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Vladimir Putin met with Vice Premier of the State Council of the People's Republic of China Zhang Guoqing. President of Russia Vladimir Putin: Mr Zhang Guoqing, friends, I am very pleased to see you and to welcome you to Russia, to Vladivostok. China has traditionally participated in this forum for many years now. I had the pleasure of welcoming the President of the People's Republic of China to it. He participated in person, spoke here, and then took part in the forum in the videoconference format. I would like to take this opportunity to ask you to convey my best wishes to the President of the People's Republic of China, with whom I have friendly work-related and personal relations. This certainly helps promote bilateral relations and ties between our countries. We know you well as a very business-like person. You headed a major company and now engage in matter of industry. As far as I know, you have already had the chance to meet with your counterparts, deputy prime ministers [Yury] Trutnev and [Denis] Manturov. The latter is in charge of the industrial block in the Government. I would like to note that thanks primarily to the efforts of our governments and business circles, Russia-China relations in this area – the area of economic cooperation – have reached a very high level. Of course, this is a derivative of what has been achieved in the political sphere, but nevertheless the results are more than good, they are excellent, and every year our trade grows by almost one third. This year, too, over the first seven months of it, the trade is up by about the same amount, I think, 24 percent – to as much as 120 billion. The goal President Xi Jinping and I have set – to reach the US$200 billion mark in trade – can be achieved very soon, already this year. I am confident that our relations will keep the current pace. We are glad to welcome you, and I would like to thank you for your decision to come and take part in the Eastern Economic Forum. Welcome. Vice Premier of the State Council of the People's Republic of China Zhang Guoqing (retranslated): Thank you, Mr President, for the opportunity to meet with you. First of all, I would like to pass on to you sincere regards and best wishes from President Xi Jinping. We also wish to offer heartfelt congratulations on the successful organisation of the 8th Eastern Economic Forum. Under the strategic direction of President Xi Jinping and President Vladimir Putin, China and Russia have deepened their overarching partnership and strategic cooperation in this new era. Our relations have maintained a consistently high dynamic. As you rightly noted, our countries have provided resolute mutual support in matters concerning our key interests. We are deepening political cooperation and trust and multiplying our mutual interests, bringing our nations closer. Our multi-dimensional practical cooperation is moving forward progressively, and the range of our bilateral cooperation is constantly expanding. Mr President, you noted the volume of our trade for the first seven months of this year, but in the first eight months of this year, the bilateral turnover reached US$155.1 billion, which is 32 percent higher year-on-year. We have every reason to believe that the goal set at the highest level, to reach US$200 billion in bilateral trade, will be achieved earlier than the end of the year. Last March, President Xi Jinping made a successful state visit to Russia, during which a new large-scale plan for developing China-Russia relations was outlined and new guidelines were set. Currently, the Chinese nation, under the true leadership of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party, centred around comrade Xi Jinping, is promoting the comprehensive Chinese modernisation focused on high-quality development. We are ready to share development opportunities and deepen mutually beneficial cooperation with our Russian colleagues. Vladimir Putin: We highly value and appreciate the fact that, as you mentioned, the President of China made his first foreign visit after his re-election to Russia. This indicates that the relations between Russia and China have reached an unprecedented and historic level in the past few years. As you said, we will continue working together.

Europeans should allow their countries to be hosts for free debate among the Russian emigrés of the 21st century. But they should resist the temptation to view the exiles as channels of influence to reform Russia.  Life as a refugee is always difficult. And being a Russian exile in Europe is difficult in its own way. You are blamed for the war you opposed. You might fight the blame, or you might own it and try to atone – either way, there is little you can do. And what you are able to do inevitably proves inadequate: it is hard to convince Europeans that Russian society does not bear blame for Vladimir Putin’s war; and you can never apologise enough to shake away the guilt. Alternatively, you might be of the opportunistic type, who arrives with a sense of entitlement in search of the good life – and also ends up disappointed by the cool welcome. Either way, you start slowly losing touch with home, while never quite agreeing with the worldview of your new neighbours.  The politically motivated exodus of Russians to Europe started slowly in around 2012 and dramatically intensified over the past year and a half. The exiles come with a panoply of views. There are those who indeed feel guilty about the war, because, as Russian citizens, they feel responsible for failing to prevent it. There are those who think of themselves first and foremost as victims of the Putin regime and refuse to be answerable for its crimes. There are those who do not bother with questions of guilt at all, but just come in search of a safe haven – for their money, perhaps, or from mobilisation. There are those who worked for the Putinist system before becoming disillusioned or falling out of favour; there are those who kept their distance from the very start. And finally, there are surely those who have not truly fled at all, but have been planted among the refugee community by the Russian special services.  Europeans and the European Union lack a common policy towards the exiles. While Ukrainian refugees will correctly remain Europeans’ priority, what should European decision-makers do about the fleeing Russians: embrace them; reject them; or put them on probation?  What should European decision-makers do about the fleeing Russians: embrace them; reject them; or put them on probation?  Some in Europe view the exiles as our best link to civil society in Russia; as a group who could be instrumental to democratising the country in the future. They suggest welcoming them, helping them, and working with them. Behind the scenes, though, many others, especially European officials working on security matters, are governed by caution: ‘We don’t know who these people really are,’ they say in private. ‘They might be anti-Putin, they might be undercover FSB. And if they are effective in their anti-Putin activities, the Kremlin might send assassins after them – which won’t help our security either.’  A third approach is to approve of Russians as long as they think and behave in particular ways. In many places the exiles are welcome as long as they conform to local expectations, which vary widely, and are maximalist in some places. A good illustration of this is the fate of TV Dozhd. Russia’s last-remaining liberal television channel moved its operations to Latvia, but soon lost its licence for its programming’s lack of Latvian subtitles, for referring to the Russian army as “our army,” and for using (probably accidentally) a map that showed Crimea as part of Russia. Consciously or otherwise, the Latvian government seems to have hoped TV Dozhd would become essentially a Russian-language Latvian television channel, taking Riga’s official line and helping to sway the views of Latvia’s extensive Russian diaspora. When TV Dozhd continued to operate as part of the Russian debate and media landscape – hence its reference to the Russian army as “ours” – it went beyond the bounds of the expectations of the Latvian authorities.  All approaches have their logic and merit. All have shortcomings too.  It is likely true that, for the time being, the exiles are Europe’s best link to Russian society. Most have friends and family in Russia, with whom they communicate on a daily basis. However, if the standoff endures, over time these links will weaken. Former friends, some of whom stayed, some of whom left, will take separate paths in life. They will be part of different debates, with different social codes. The exiles will slowly lose their authentic ‘feeling’ for Russia; they could start projecting their own hopes and fears upon reality. At that point, anyone who relies on the political analyses of the exile community alone will need to start double-checking its members’ assessments.  It is also hard to say what part the exile community can play in post-Putin Russia. To an extent this will depend on the length of time they are away. The Russians who fled the Bolshevik revolution after 1917 believed they would soon head back – and as a result lived out of suitcases for most of their lives. By contrast, those who left in the 1970s and 1980s expected never to return – but many had done so by the early 1990s. We simply do not know what the future holds for today’s emigrés.  It is also impossible to predict the influence they will have if they go back. In some societies – the Baltic states, for instance – returning exiles adapted smoothly and played important political and social roles following the collapse of the USSR. Not so in Russia – in the 1990s, the homegrown networks of post-Soviet Russian politics proved fairly impenetrable to those who had been away. This may change after Putin; or it may not.    It is unlikely that Europeans will ever have a truly common policy towards their Russian exile community. The questions of Russia and Russians are of different levels of sensitivity in different countries, and different states’ policies will always reflect that. Accepting this will make life easier for everyone, and Europe is diverse enough to welcome Russians in various ways. For instance, TV Dozhd may have moved to Latvia in the hope of being close to Russia in a town inhabited by exiles. But ultimately it may be better off in its new home in the Netherlands, where society is less instinctively suspicious of everything Russian.  Also, much of what regulates the daily life of Russian exiles – rules on visas, border crossing, residence permits, asylum – will remain in the competence of interior ministries, and thus outside the regulatory reach of the EU. Its institutions may still wish to draw up a list of recommendations or best practices, which could help member states at least streamline their actions, so that unilateral steps by some do not leave others exposed. (Think, for instance, of how the visa bans introduced by the Baltic states last year increased the migration pressure on Finland and Norway – until they too restricted the movement of Russians.) This would also help address the Kafkaesque set of regulations inside the EU faced by the exiles. But truly uniform policies across the bloc or the Schengen visa space are probably unrealistic for the time being.   Of course, the exiled Russians need to adapt to the societies where they have settled. They need to follow local rules and laws, and put up with local views about Russia – there is no avoiding that. However, their hosts should allow them to be themselves – Russian Russians – not just Russian-speaking Europeans.  Ultimately, Europeans’ approach should be to provide space for Russians without over-investing in them or instrumentalising them. Allow them space to live, safe from the Kremlin. Enable them to talk freely about Russia – painful and necessary as it is. For now, exile is the only place where there can be a Russian debate about the country’s political system, how to fix it, and how to atone for its crimes. Parts of their soul-searching may connect with the discourse in Russia, although there is no guarantee of this. But above all, Europeans should not view them as a column that will smash the Putinist regime. Do not embrace them as such, do not project your hopes onto them, and do not try to micromanage Russian politics with the help of exiled political leaders (even if they ask you to).  The rationale for welcoming Russians should be that Europe is Europe: a place that provides shelter for refugees and a home for honest debate. Europeans’ reasoning should not be rooted in any expectations about the political influence exiles will have in a future Russia – because that may never materialise. If those who departed eventually acquire such influence, it will be a welcome surprise. Above all, the more that Europeans steer clear of intra-Russian intrigues and political manipulation, the more likely it is that such influence will be worth the steadfastness of circumspection.

While it is prudent to be cautious, it may also be wise to explore cooperation in those areas where there are shared interests rather than assume that the BRICS and the West are strategic rivals on all fronts. This analysis was first published in the Global Observatory, 30 August 2023. When Jim O’Neill coined the BRIC acronym in 2001, the point he was trying to convey was that the global economic system needed to incorporate the world’s largest emerging economies. His advice fell on deaf ears and in 2009, Brazil, China, India and Russia decided to take matters into their own hands and formed the BRIC grouping. South Africa joined the group in 2010 to form the BRICS. This July, the group held its 15th summit in South Africa, where they decided to add six new members: Argentina, Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. More are likely to join in the future, including countries like Indonesia and Nigeria.  What these countries have in common is a frustration, if not a grievance, about being side-lined to the periphery of the world economy. Together, the BRICS represent approximately 40% of the world’s population. The combined size of their economies are approaching approximately 30% of the world’s GDP, which puts them roughly on par with combined size of the economies of the G7 countries, depending on whether size is measured in GDP or PPP.  More importantly, in the next few decades, the combined size of the BRICS economies will surpass that of the G7. Despite this growing parity, all the members of the BRICS, with the exception of Russia, self-identifies as being part of the Global South, i.e., they feel excluded from a global system dominated by the Global North. Their stated aim is to work towards a future system of global governance where they will have equal political and economic say in global institutions, and where no one state will dominate others. In pursuit of this aim, BRICS countries have established their own development bank, set up their own contingency reserve arrangement, are developing their own payment system, and have started to trade with each other in their own currencies.  The BRICS want to free their economies from the dollar-based international financial system. They feel exposed to United States interest rates that can have a negative effect on their economies, for no domestic reasons. The dollar-based financial system also provides the US with significant advantages in the global economy, which the BRICS see as unfair. They also feel a dollar-based financial system gives the US hegemonic influence in global affairs, through for example, exerting US jurisdiction on all dollar-based trade or investments that flow through US banks or financial institutions.  While the BRICS countries have these clear shared macro-economic interests, many of the members also have competing interests in other domains. China and India are geopolitical rivals in South Asia. Egypt and Ethiopia are at loggerheads over the Nile. Brazil, India, South Africa and the newly-added Argentina are democracies, while other countries in the group are governed by a diverse set of autocratic regimes, which could set up an irreconcilable clash of values on some issues. Many of the members of the BRICS also have close ties to the United States and Europe, including Egypt, India, Saudi Arabia and South Africa. South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, in a televised statement to the nation on the eve of hosting the BRICS summit in South Africa, explained that South Africa remains non-aligned, and he announced that in 2023 the country will also host a major United States-Africa trade meeting and an EU-South Africa summit. South Africa will also host the G20 in 2025, the first in Africa. For many countries, membership of the BRICS does thus not necessarily imply aligning themselves with one global alliance versus another, but rather cooperation in a group around a series of shared interests.  Where does this place the BRICS on the Russian war in Ukraine? The BRICS summit in Johannesburg steered clear of taking a position on the war, other than welcoming mediation aimed at resolving it through dialogue and diplomacy. Some BRICS members like Iran are clearly supporting Russia, while most others have stopped short of either supporting or condemning Russia. For many such as Egypt, the war has adversely affected their economy. Two of the BRICS members, Egypt and South Africa, are part of an African initiative to seek a mediated end to the conflict, which is perhaps the first African initiative to mediate an international conflict. Overall, however, the BRICS have their eyes on the medium- to long-term transformation of the global macro-economic and financial system, and countries like China are probably frustrated that the Russian war in Ukraine has drawn attention away from this larger objective.  Are the BRICS and the West headed for a new cold war? The shift in the center of gravity of the global economy to the East is an unstoppable fact driven by demographics and economic factors like the cost of production. At the same time, Europe and the United States will remain major economic players. In tandem with these changes in the global economy, it is clear that the global political order will become more multipolar, with China, Europe, India, and the United States representing some of the major centers of influence.  In an August 27 article, Jim O’Neil argues that the influence of the BRICS will be determined by their effectiveness, not their size. An expanding BRICS will most likely succeed in helping its members to break free from a dollar-based international financial system, but that will take several decades of incremental change before it reaches a tipping point. Whether that is a good or bad thing depends on the degree to which your economy is tied to the United States. Many of the BRICS countries, including China, Egypt, India, Saudi Arabia, and South Africa all have economies whose prosperity are closely tied to the Unites States. They will thus have an interest in a slow, stable freeing up of the international financial system, and this should give everyone that is prudent time to adapt.  The same logic also applies to changes in global governance architecture. Apart from Russia, all the other BRICS countries have an interest in making sure that changes in the global order are managed at a slow steady pace that does not generate instability. All the BRICS countries, apart from Russia, are also strong supporters of multilateralism, with the United Nations at its center. Many Western countries and BRICS members may thus have more shared interests than the doomsday headlines suggest. While it is prudent to be cautious, it may also be wise to explore cooperation in those areas where there are shared interests rather than assume that the BRICS and the West are strategic rivals on all fronts.

From a difficult accession process to full integration into the Schengen area and the Eurozone, ten years into its EU membership Croatia has been a “good EU pupil” and an example for EU candidates to follow. However, challenges remain in reaching European standards, particularly regarding administrative reforms and standards of living. When Croatia joined the EU on 1 July 2013 as the 28th Member State, it was the only European nation, except for Greece in 1981, to do so on its own. The newest EU Member’s accession was far from obvious due to complex political circumstances. Involved in the longest war in recent European history (1991-1995), Croatia was left with significant human and economic losses – 20 000 people killed and the cost of reconstruction amounting to 160 percent of GDP. The country’s difficulty to come to terms with war crime prosecutions, all of which were eventually acquitted, significantly impacted its relations with the EU. Consequently, Croatia missed the 2004 (Central and Eastern European States) and 2007 (Bulgaria and Romania) rounds of accession and, somewhat ironically, was placed in the membership package with the Western Balkan countries and later in the accession negotiations with the eternal EU candidate Turkiye. Troubled border issues with Slovenia, then already an EU Member, further compounded the accession – unnecessarily as the Court of Justice of the EU confirmed in 2020. Per aspera ad astra: a good pupil of the EU The enlargement fatigue, which came as a result of the slow integration process for new members, enticed the Member States and the European Commission to be more demanding on Croatia. In addition to the Copenhagen political criteria introduced for all new enlargements, Croatia’s membership negotiations involved an unprecedented 35 chapters with specific opening and closing benchmarks, 160,000 pages of the EU’s Acquis Communautaire, and an additional monitoring process between closing negotiations and full membership, which all led to a long accession process, just short of a decade. With hindsight, this level of scrutiny most likely helped Croatia join the Schengen area and the Eurozone on 1 January this year – ahead of several Eastern European States. With its public debt-to-GDP ratio on the downward trajectory (68.4 percent at the end of 2022), Croatia is also performing better than other Mediterranean Eurozone States. The war, for which the country never received any reparations, and then the “lost decade” between 2004 and 2013 with the Global Financial Crisis in 2008, critically slowed Croatia’s economic growth, meaning it began its membership in the EU as its poorest growth prospects. Ten years on, macroeconomic data paints a more positive picture. Croatia’s GDP growth in the second decade of its EU membership has almost tripled compared to the decade before – reaching a staggering 13.1 percent in 2021. Croatia’s EU funds absorption has also significantly improved with the country receiving €12.1 billion in total from different funds. EU membership has facilitated a number of infrastructure projects, from the Peljesac bridge, one of the EU’s largest infrastructure investments, to reconstruction following earthquakes that hit Croatia in 2020. The accession to the Eurozone has lowered borrowing costs and given impetus to exports. It is expected that it will also boost tourism. Joining the Schengen area and removing borders with neighbouring EU Member States has enabled visitors to travel faster, with record numbers of tourists expected this year. Remaining hurdles Despite stellar numbers, systemic challenges remain affecting Croatia’s microeconomic performance. Overrepresentation of employment in the public sector, high and complex taxation, and inflexible labour laws have contributed to a stifling effect on business activity. Croatia’s average net salary is about €1100, well below the EU’s average, and its GDP per capita is among the lowest in the EU, half the EU average. Croatia’s population has consequently declined by nearly 10 percent to 3.8 million since joining the EU, a significant loss for a small country of mostly its younger population. It therefore does not come as a surprise that the country’s unemployment rate has been steadily decreasing over the years – it is currently at 5.6 percent. Labour shortages are being filled by workers from Balkan countries, but also by Asian workers, a cultural opportunity and a challenge for the rather homogenous Croatian society. Among experts and the business community, Croatia is still perceived as a relatively corrupt country,  fairing only marginally better than Romania, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Several notable high-profile corruption cases in recent years demonstrates the scope of corruption. The EU-wide Public Prosecutor’s Office (EPPO), established in 2021 to investigate corruption specifically related to EU funds, recorded 23 investigations in Croatia last year, most of which concerned regional development and agricultural funds. While the different reforms are underway, the question is whether they will be sufficient to diversify the country’s economy, still largely dependent on tourism (20 percent of Croatia’s GDP) and stop the demographic hemorrhage. New horizons Since Croatia’s accession, the EU has also faced a number of challenges. From the 2015 migration crisis to Brexit, and humanitarian, energy, and economic challenges brought on by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the EU has been forced to rethink its enlargement strategy. It has recently accepted Ukraine and Moldova as new candidates for EU membership, with Georgia in the pipeline. This is in addition to the already lined up Western Balkan states. Given the persisting political tensions and socio-economic gaps, the integration of such a disparate group of countries presents a difficulty. For now, the current geopolitical situation and the ongoing war requires a cautioning of the EU’s openness. Croatia, as “good EU pupil,” can be a constructive factor in this process. It has been a strong supporter of further enlargement and with its recent experience can provide know-how and assistance. Croatia’s war, and the peacebuilding that followed, could be valuable for the post-conflict reconstruction of Ukraine. Unlike some of the EU’s “enfants terribles” among new Member States, Croatia has not challenged the rule of law or broader EU values. So far, it has proved reliable in protecting the EU external border, which is positioned on the challenging Western Balkan migration route. Much of its good reputation in Brussels can also be thanked to the country’s prime minister, Andrej Plenkovic, who belongs to a progressive line of European conservative leaders gathered in the European People’s Party (EPP) that still rules the EU, as the biggest party in the European Parliament. Given its size, geographical position, and strong European identity, Croatia’s accession to the EU has been an exception in many aspects. However, its performance over the first ten years demonstrates that exceptions can be politically wise. Much as its famous soccer team, Croatia has been in many ways punching above its weight. Its “success story” could thus give an impetus to European integration and serve as a model for future EU enlargements.

I am delighted to be back in the Land in which I was born and grew up, North Rhine-Westphalia. And I am even happier that so many of you have accompanied me here from Berlin and Bonn. I don’t exactly know whether this is a new record, but 170 participants in our joint trip to explore one of the federal states together is really quite a lot. Minister President, thank you very much indeed for the hospitality extended to us here in this, to my mind, wonderful place, the Zollverein Coal Mine Industrial Complex. North Rhine-Westphalia, as you have just heard, is indeed the most populous Land in Germany. And over the past few years and decades, or I could say over the last century and a half, it has become a real melting pot for people from a wide range of nations. Many people from a very large number of regions of the world have come together here –  thanks in the main to that part of North Rhine-Westphalia which is the focus of our trip today. For a long time, the Ruhr District was the beating heart of heavy industry, a region forged by coal and steel. Four and a half years ago, in December 2018, I was there when the last coal mine here in the Ruhr District was closed. That was one of the hardest speeches I have ever had to make in any of the positions I’ve held – to stand in front of crying miners and say to them: this piece of coal in my hands is the last piece of coal mined in Germany. It was – and everyone knew it was – the end of an era in Germany and especially here in the Ruhr District. It was not just the end of a chapter of industrial history. The hard work, and especially the work below ground, profoundly shaped the people in this region for years and decades. For these people, the crucial thing is being able to rely on each other, and that a word, once given, is kept. If you have another chance sometime to look around here, you will notice that the people who live here are vigorous, sober and pragmatic. They don’t ask where you come from or mind how smartly you can talk; what they care about is that you roll up your sleeves, do your work, and especially that you try to behave decently to others.  So you can imagine that the decline of the coal and steel industry meant a massive upheaval for the Ruhr District and its people, for the economy, but also for social structures here. But precisely in this region, a region which has seen many endings and ruptures, many new things are emerging, many new ideas are being implemented. The major transformation of an old industrial landscape that from here is almost invisible amongst all the greenery, the major transformation of an industrial landscape to a centre of science and research, a hub – if I may put it like that – for technologies of the future is well under way. This morning, at Siemens Energy in Mülheim, we were able to see for ourselves what kind of cutting-edge energy transition technologies, some of them AI-driven, are now being developed and used here in the region.   The venue for our luncheon, the former Zollverein coal mine and coking plant, is a particularly good illustration of the pride the people here in the Ruhr District take in their past, and of the devotion with which they are preserving the relics of this history and at the same time again and again turning them into something new. Once one of the most modern plants of its kind in Europe, Zollverein is today a museum, memorial and centre for culture, design, events and new technologies. A World Cultural Heritage site that not only preserves the past but also looks firmly to the future and builds that future.  As economically successful as the coal and steel era was, today we know that it was just as harmful and in many cases entirely destructive for nature and the environment. For instance, the Emscher, originally a small, gentle river, was for many decades used as an open sewer. It was a cesspool, ecologically dead, into which waste, including toxic waste, was discharged. Now, following a tremendous effort, it has been renaturalised. Later today we will be able to see and admire the result. In one of Europe’s biggest infrastructure projects, an entire river has been cleaned up, so that it is now free of wastewater, and once again home to plants and animals. But perhaps the real miracle is that this – it’s safe to say – gigantic project was completed in thirty years, and on schedule no less.  One more thing: the Ruhr District would not be what it is without football. There is little the people here care about at weekends more than this: did my team win or lose? And passions run especially high when the match is against one of the other teams from the region. Even if a club from the south of Germany has won the national championship for years now, the heart of German football beats – at least so people here say – in the Ruhr District, with its many traditional clubs and their fans, unshakeably loyal through all the ups and downs. That is why the German Football Museum was not established any old where in Germany, but here in the “Revier”, as we call the Ruhr mining area. And that is why this trip would not be complete without a joint visit to the museum in Dortmund later on.  Another very serious matter has profoundly affected the people of this region, and not only the older generation. I am talking about war. On the one hand, the Ruhr District was of course also a major centre of arms production in both World Wars unleashed by Germany. On the other, it, more than almost any other region in Germany, experienced fear, massive destruction and thousands of deaths during the intensive bombardments of the Second World War. The people here, including later generations, know exactly what war is.  And because they know, because “Never again” is deeply engraved in their hearts and minds, the Ruhr District is also a nucleus of European integration. The European Coal and Steel Community, which was intended to transform the former heavy industries of the war machine into civilian, peace-keeping industries, gradually evolved into ever greater political, economic and social cooperation, and finally into the major work of peace and freedom that is today’s European Union.   The history of this region in particular, therefore, preserves the precious knowledge that cooperation between peoples and nations is a thousand times better than war and confrontation. That growth and prosperity evolve not from enmity, but from cooperation based on common rules and principles.   That is why we Germans are pleased and proud to be celebrating 50 years of United Nations membership this year. The principles of international law that the then two German states recognised on their accession apply to all who belong to the United Nations. Only compliance with international law, recognition of the Charter of the United Nations and real and actual action in keeping with the principles of this Charter guarantee peace, freedom and prosperity for the nations. On the basis of these principles, we extend the hand of cooperation to all states represented here.  There is of course a reason why I am saying this: The Russian attack on Ukraine is a break with everything for which the United Nations stands, for which Europe and Germany stand. The inviolability of borders, of a country´s sovereignty and self-determination, of human dignity and peace – all this, as we are seeing day in, day out, means nothing to Putin. Today I would like to thank all those who are condemning and have condemned Russia’s aggression at international level. We must not tolerate the attack against a sovereign neighbouring state, the violation of borders, land grabs, the displacement of millions of people. The international community must not accept all this. And we urgently need this international community, and the common rules this international community sets itself – not only now, but for all the new challenges of this century that are yet to come.  We have all seen that no country on its own can secure a humane future. We are all dependent on partnership and cooperation, particularly in our joint efforts in the fight against climate change. That is why we are endeavouring, that is why German and European policy is endeavouring, to intensify existing partnerships and establish new, just partnerships and alliances that will benefit all sides. Let me say this quite clearly: what we need is not deglobalisation. What we need, in my view, is even closer connectivity aimed at making the world a better place. Because we will only be able to overcome the global challenges if we work together.  I wish you and all of us a pleasant rest of the day with lots of enjoyable experiences, interesting insights and, hopefully, valuable encounters. This evening, right at the end of our trip, we will be experiencing another truly glorious part of North-Rhine Westphalia that will surprise you. What we will be seeing is referred to here as the Versailles of Westphalia. I can only say: look forward to it!

Landlocked in the heart of Central Asia, Kazakhstan is involved in regional partnerships and, pragmatic, claims to be a facilitator with balanced relations, even if the pressure to take a stand between Russia, China and the European Union is strong. This cocktail is the challenge of so-called middle power (or bridge) countries, developing multi-factor diplomacy, here constrained by geography and made possible by the country’s resources. Moreover, the development and identity of the five Central Asian countries are built around the imperative of cooperation, given the geographical position and the small number of citizens (75 million for the five countries).  The 2023 edition of the Astana Forum, formerly economic and renamed Astana International Forum, was structured around four themes: foreign policy and international security, international development and sustainability, energy and climate change and economy and finance. This forum supports the development of international action: dialogue of international themes, with the desire to propose answers, desires to become a reference on the world scene without forgetting a public relations dimension. This has resulted in Kazakhstan’s diplomacy being described as ‘niche diplomacy’ (for uranium exchanges) or multi-vector diplomacy[1]. Since February 2022, the Belt and Road Initiative, China’s connectivity project, no longer pass through Russia. Kazakhstan is at the centre of the EU-funded Asia-Europe Transport Road (or Trans International Transport Road). This is one example where the economy, originally considered by Joseph Nye as a resource of hard power, becomes a factor of attractiveness and image for a country. In terms of analysis, considering a continuum – not a strict dichotomy – between hard power and soft power allows for more flexibility between projects and resources. This multilateral institutional program connects the rail freight container transport networks of China and the EU. The multimodal transport structure connects the Caspian and Black Sea ferry terminals with the rail systems of Asian and European countries. The route starts from Southeast Asia and China, crosses Kazakhstan, the Caspian Sea, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Turkey. The so-called middle corridor is present in the speeches and in the initiatives and funding of the European Union and China. This land logistics link between the China and EU trading zones goes beyond transport to digitation of data and complying with European Union and UN standards. Therefore, several models are facing together depending on the view of China or the Union. Beyond this situation, what are the challenges for this middle power and in the broader context of countries that voluntarily and reasoned choose an identical approach and positioning? A successful solution for a middle power means choosing specific negotiating topics in the international space, being agile and flexible, and knowing how to build coalitions to defend them. In the context of multilateralism, it is necessary to structure actions for a convergence between its interests and those of the partners rather than on an ideology. This is one of the conditions for becoming credible, for developing its discourse and, ultimately, to be perceived by the international community as a country with positive contributions. And beyond this community, by the public, which comes down to finding its place on the world map in the long term, when the country becomes known and better identified. Diplomacy becomes public, because it consists of informing, or even dialogue with public opinion. Thus, the Astana Forum presents a middle power capable of building a regional dialogue with experts, politicians, and international actors, which contributes to the construction of legitimacy and the ability to influence through contacts, cooperation and media coverage. Being a middle power also means being courted in alliance competitions whose number and formats become exponential, which generates as many acronyms as possible, here China + C5 and EU + C5. Two recent summits, beyond content and photos, tell the stakes. The China-five Central Asian summit took place in May 2023 in Xi’an, China with the signing of 54 multilateral agreements. The meeting of the European Union and the five Central Asian countries took place at the beginning of June in Cholpon Ata, Kyrgyzstan. These are the five countries being courted no doubt with strong pressure to choose one or the other alliance, hence the tensions and questions of cooperation already mentioned. Moreover, contradictions exist between the possibilities and wills of the middle powers and the driving force of international institutions, structures with more rigid rules, including, for example, the Security Council. A new paradigm is emerging: the role of coalitions. Finally, middle-power countries must balance their national interests, common international challenges such as climate change, and building alliances and coalitions. Claims of middle powers, alliances and coalitions and connectivity programs may be shaping the geopolitics of tomorrow.

“The world is not just Europe and America,” Iran’s foreign ministry spokesperson declared on April 10, 2023, implicitly echoing the views championed for years by the senior leadership of the Islamic Republic regarding the ostensible rise of China and Russia. Indeed, the moment when Iran shifted from a traditional balancing relationship between East and West to decisively embrace Russia and China occurred on May 8, 2018, when the Trump administration withdrew the United States from the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA). The U.S.’s decision to abandon the nuclear deal deeply disillusioned the Iranian leadership about any possibility of a rapprochement with Washington. Tehran had initially agreed to sign the JCPOA with the Obama administration based on the expectations that its promises to substantially reduce its nuclear program would be recompensed by the lifting of a substantial portion of U.S. economic sanctions.  Consistent with its long-held objective of maintaining distance from Washington, Tehran was pleased that the JCPOA, as agreed, had permitted it to avoid normalizing relations with its adversary while still reaping the economic benefits by being able to resume oil exports and welcome foreign investment. Yet following the U.S. withdrawal from the nuclear deal, Iran concluded that Washington’s policy toward Tehran is unreliable and the American political class could not be swayed. The Iranian leadership was further disillusioned by the Europeans’ limited ability or willingness to preserve the 2015 agreement. Moreover, the convergence of additional domestic factors — such as pressure from hardliners to bolster the country’s defensive and offensive military capabilities, the weakening state of the economy, and looming challenges to the continuity of the political system — led to intensive debates about the direction of Iran’s foreign policy. Though the foreign and defense policy bureaucracy made the decision to reorient Iranian relations more fully toward China and Russia as early as 2019, it had to wait until the Hassan Rouhani government completed its term in August 2021 before taking any concrete steps in this direction. A clear indication of that decision can be traced to the constant stalling tactics used by the Rouhani delegation during the talks with the U.S. and the broader international community on potentially reviving the JCPOA. The pivot to the East took on a more noticeable character following the inauguration of President Ebrahim Raisi on Aug. 5, 2021. The Raisi presidency led to higher levels of policy compatibility in the totality of the Iranian political system, but even more importantly, it resulted in the executive branch rank and file being staffed with devotees, loyal administrators, and 1970s-era revolutionaries. This was a necessary move following the Rouhani presidency, during which somewhat liberal administrators permeated the bureaucracy. Since the Islamic Revolution, Iran’s legislative and judicial branches have consistently demonstrated their loyalty to the status quo. However, following each change of president, the executive branch has had the opportunity to fill some 11,000 administrative positions throughout the country with like-minded individuals. Now, with the inauguration of the more conservative Raisi government, all three branches are committed to maintaining the current inertia and coherence of the Islamic Republic. Iran is now pursuing a two-tiered foreign policy: a vigorous and determined shift toward Russia and China on the one hand, while, on the other hand, making incremental concessions on its nuclear program to give the impression that another deal can be struck to replace the JCPOA. The former approach is being implemented with almost zero fanfare and the latter with extensive publicity. Iran has been steadfast in its Eastward turn even though this shift does not enjoy the support of the general public or the professional and educated classes in particular. As such, all debate and discussions regarding the country’s foreign policy orientation have been restricted to tightly knit circles within the top ruling elite. Still, it is possible to deduce three broad reasons for Iran’s growing alliance with China and Russia: 1. A refusal to capitulate to or make vast concessions to the United States;2. The valuing of security concerns as more important than economic development needs; and3. The desire to see continuity of the political system.Avoiding capitulating to the United StatesIran has a long-standing policy of avoiding normalization with the United States. Throughout the post-revolutionary period, Tehran has deliberately avoided any moves toward rapprochement except in the face of imminent danger or a potential U.S. military operation against the Islamic Republic. The underlying calculus maintains that normalization with Washington would lead to profound consequences for the current Iranian political system, from disrupting its internal politics to overwhelming its economy and reshaping its culture. First of all, there is a deep-seated fear in Tehran that once American companies, educational institutions, and civil society organizations become active in the country, the Iranian leadership would gradually lose much of its grip on power. Anti-American sentiment also provides the revolutionary class with a common identity and keeps more internationally minded, moderate, or pragmatic groups out of positions of authority. Even following the JCPOA agreement and prior to the inauguration of U.S. President Donald Trump, the dominant perception in the Iranian capital was one of despair since most of the economic sanctions on the country remained intact. The ambiguous future of sanctions, combined with the possibility of spill-over effects on regional issues, created an atmosphere of uncertainty within the corridors of power in Iran. Another factor that dampens hopes for change in U.S.-Iranian relations is Washington’s long list of demands not only with regard to Iran’s foreign policy and nuclear program but also about the nature of its political system and internal conduct. A final facet standing in the way of improved bilateral relations — and closely related to the first — is the Iranian revolutionary class’s belief that rapprochement with the United States would inevitably result in undesired substantial changes in the political system. Any long-lasting improvement in the relationship would require not just policy change but also a redesign of state structures. In line with this thinking, concessions on the nuclear program would be inadequate; Iran would ultimately need to fully capitulate to the U.S., reviving bitter memories of the 1953 American-British coup d’état. The Farsi word for submission, tasleem, was, thus, widely used in the revolutionary state media and television to characterize Washington’s ostensible expectations from Tehran in the realization of the JCPOA. With its vast stake in the political and economic spheres of the state, Iran’s revolutionary class was not prepared to abandon power or open the political floodgates by making structural concessions to the U.S. and facilitating a possible takeover of the country by liberal presidential candidates. The disillusionment in the aftermath of the JCPOA agreement fostered a Raisi-type conservative presidency, an essential prerequisite to the consolidation and continuity of the revolutionary Iranian polity.Precedence of security concerns over economic developmentAt no point in its history has the Islamic Republic prioritized domestic economic development. Continued reliance on energy exports has furnished the state and its elites with a stream of income to maintain this system. Iran’s activist foreign policy antagonizes a large number of neighboring and external countries, yet the leadership considers it essential to protecting the state. For many decades, Iran’s national security doctrine has articulated a hedging strategy of relying on Shi’a and/or anti-Western enclaves in the Middle East to expand its territorial influence vis-à-vis major Arab countries, Israel, and the United States. Turkey is perhaps the only major country in the region with which Iran has been able to manage a stable relationship over the long term. In recent years, Tehran has additionally militarily aligned itself with a major outside power — Russia. Furthermore, Iran’s drone and missile capabilities as well as its geopolitical influence in much of the region have served as a dependable deterrence strategy. Such a conceptualization of national security, threat perceptions, and statecraft have left little room to pursue economic development in a globalized economy. This sharply contrasts with regional neighbors such as Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Israel, and the United Arab Emirates, which have deliberately been concentrating their energies on economic diversification, high-tech industries, renewable energy, and attracting foreign direct investment (FDI). The economic rise of China and Russia’s military and political capabilities have provided a wide range of opportunities for numerous developing countries, including India, Indonesia, Brazil, Nigeria, South Africa, and Mexico, to diversify their foreign and economic policies. However, while drawing on the support they can obtain from Beijing and Moscow, most still strive to maintain a balance between the West and the East. These countries benefit from European and American financial and technological sectors and earn sizeable profits by selling in their markets. But since national economic development is not a priority for the Iranian leadership, and it devotes a large proportion of its energies toward domestic and national security, even a complete political and economic pivot away from the West will not jeopardize Iranian state-owned industries nor affect the already-sidelined private sector and dwindling consumer markets. Indeed, Western companies and banks have also removed Iran as a potential market due to U.S. and European sanctions. Ultimately, Iran’s pivot toward the East will reduce its economy to selling fossil fuels to China and a few other Asian-Pacific countries in exchange for commodity imports. And it is unlikely that these consumers will turn around and invest in Iranian industries due to the sanctions restrictions currently in place. The only conceivable investment opportunities would perhaps be in the form of barter, wherein Iran might export petroleum in exchange for infrastructure development with no financial transactions involved. Furthermore, the timing of the Iranian leadership’s decision to reduce the country’s political and economic reliance on the West in general and Europe in particular was critical: Namely, that strategic choice was made ahead of the looming leadership transition at the top to avoid possible dissenting views when Iran’s third supreme leader takes over. Closer relations with Russia and China promise to not only de-risk Iran’s foreign economic relations but also help maintain an optimum level of progress on the nuclear program as a strategic component of the national security doctrine.Continuity of the political systemIran’s anti-Americanism is considered a highly treasured geostrategic asset in Moscow. In a sense, Iran is Russia’s southern Belarus. From a historical perspective, all permutations of the Russian state over the last two centuries, from the Russian Empire to the Soviet Union to the Russian Federation today, have pursued a similar policy of trying to keep Iran out of the Western orbit. But the Russian-Iranian military partnership that developed in Syria and solidified over Ukraine — specifically covering military hardware, cyber software, and digital surveillance tools that Iran has no hopes procuring through cooperation with the West — has also furthered Tehran’s leverage vis-à-vis Israel and the United States. Iran is expected to receive 24 Su-35 fighter aircraft from Russia in addition to S-400 air-defense systems. And the relationship is developing in both directions. Tehran has also supplied Moscow with low-cost drones and weapons systems. Additionally, the two countries are cooperating in the energy sector, with Russia reportedly having delivered 30,000 tons of diesel fuel to Iran in February and March 2023; yet given Russia’s technological limitations in the energy sector, it is not clear whether these projects will eventually and efficiently materialize. Though relations with Russia have undoubtedly expanded in the military domain since the invasion of Ukraine, one can also deduct other Iranian motives to further solidify relations with Moscow. There are at least two crucial reasons behind Iran’s desire to tighten its cooperation with Russia and move from a transactional to a strategic bilateral relationship. First is Tehran’s need to secure intelligence on Israeli and American operations against Iran. And second is the desire to draw on Moscow’s potential political and intelligence assistance during the transition period to the third supreme leader of Iran. Such expectations can be met with or without Vladimir Putin in the Kremlin since they fulfill fundamental Russian interests vis-à-vis Iran and the West. Iran has reached a point where it can no longer depend on increasing internal control and expanding regional deterrence to maintain a status quo conducive to preserving the political system. Israel’s traditional “periphery doctrine,” of reaching out to non-Arab countries to build security partnerships, has now expanded to the South Caucasus and Central Asian regions. Moreover, most Arab neighbors of Iran today maintain normal or at least not overtly antagonistic diplomatic relations with Israel, which has improved American leverage with regard to Tehran as a result. Facing limited foreign policy options, including diminishing hopes of reaching a modus vivendi with the United States through reviving the JCPOA and a lasting divergence in relations between Russia and the West, Tehran has had to succumb to Moscow. This was not only to procure new military hardware but also to secure its position in a shifting regional matrix, deter potential future threats to its internal security, and safeguard the continuity of the political system. In this evolving context, as long as Russian interests remain opposed to those of the West, Moscow will likely do whatever is necessary to protect the Islamic Republic of Iran. Unlike Russia’s more strategic and long-term calculus vis-à-vis the Islamic Republic, China confines itself to mostly political and commercial relations with Iran and appears to cautiously act in parallel to the U.S. in the Middle East rather than in opposition to it. Beijing has immense short-term and long-term commercial and technological interests in maintaining peace and cooperation with Israel as well as with major Arab countries, such as Saudi Arabia and the UAE. Moreover, petroleum imports from Iran can easily be substituted in a global glut. That said, Beijing’s mediation role between Iran and Saudi Arabia highlights that for China, good relations with the Islamic Republic provide useful political leverage when navigating the region as well as in its global rivalry with the United States.Challenges aheadThis article attempted to explain Iran’s calculations behind politically and economically pivoting toward Russia and China, founded upon the assumption that the deep state in Iran is prioritizing continuity and issues of succession in the political system. Almost all matters of state are overshadowed by these medium- to long-term concerns — a set of priorities that Iranian leaders have, in fact, held for centuries. The question facing the government today, however, is how the revolutionary domestic apparatus can strive to survive the myriad sources of domestic and foreign challenges, including the Islamic Republic’s stand-off against the Western world. In contrast to the United States and Europe, Russia and China are not concerned with Iran’s internal political system, constitutional structures, or governmental machinery. Of its three main adversaries, namely, the U.S., Israel, and Saudi Arabia, Iran recently concluded that a rapprochement with Saudi Arabia is a possibility, having made a complete U-turn on this in March 2023, with the help of Chinese mediation. Iran had learned the hard way to compromise with the Saudis, given the latter’s instrumental political and financial role among Iranian minorities inside the country as well as Iranian opposition groups in Europe and the U.S. In order to mitigate this influence, Tehran apparently decided to make concessions on Yemen in return for reduced Saudi support for the Iranian opposition. Of all the points of leverage at Iran’s disposal in the Middle East, Yemen appears to be the least valued, especially compared to Lebanon, Iraq, and Syria. Evidently, the Iranian leadership’s incremental moves toward China and Russia stem from an unwillingness to redefine the underpinnings of the country’s national security doctrine. Not only does Iran’s current foreign policy orientation not run in opposition to Beijing’s or Moscow’s overall international outlook, but in many ways, its anti-Western predisposition in a critical region of the world serves the two powers in their difficult relationships with the United States. By aligning with Russia and China in the security and commercial spheres, Iran feels it has acquired an insurance policy against any potential negative resolutions emanating from the United Nations Security Council. And even more consequentially, with an eye toward the potentially turbulent looming period of leadership transition and succession, Tehran may feel comfortable with relying on Moscow and Beijing for security, political, intelligence, and financial support. But a major challenge confronts the political system: Will the Iranian public, professional and intellectual groups, and the country’s slim private sector — all deeply accustomed to Western ideas, systems, and customs — be willing to embrace and adapt themselves to this Eastward shift that was formulated by Iran’s political and security elites? Perhaps the social and political atmospherics that emerge as the Islamic Republic’s third supreme leadership seeks to consolidate its power will reveal the durability of this unbalanced geopolitical reorientation.

Putin’s plan is to wait out what he sees as inevitable changes in the West and Ukraine. These days, however, Russia’s elites are liable to see defeatism in inaction.Nothing is happening in Russia. At least, that’s the impression given by Vladimir Putin over the past six months. On some level, the president has been extremely active, secretly micromanaging the war effort and publicly pretending to be dealing with routine matters from meetings on the economy to the launch of a tram line in the occupied Ukrainian city of Mariupol. Yet there are no presidential initiatives in the works for adapting the country to the new wartime reality and all that it involves.  Putin has stubbornly remained disengaged in this sense, despite drone strikes on the Kremlin, mercenary boss Yevgeny Prigozhin’s crusade against the Defense Ministry, and even Ukraine’s looming counteroffensive. He prefers to give lectures on history and offer optimistic assessments of Russia’s economic prospects—and pessimistic ones of the West’s. This doesn’t mean, of course, that there really is nothing happening in Russia: quite the contrary. But what is happening has far less to do with the president’s plans or strategic interests than it does with the corporate interests of individual departments and figures. What is happening is largely a response to the worsening conditions facing Russia. Take the digitization of Russia’s system for issuing conscription notices, a move forced by the difficulties surrounding conscription during a war that is not going according to plan. Or how repression has deepened, in an attempt at self-preservation by the system amid fast-growing geopolitical risks and fears of defeat. Repressive inertia and self-aggrandizement by major institutions such as the FSB and the defense and finance ministries have driven many recent decisions, including the return of ideology. Justice Minister Konstantin Chuichenko has spoken openly about the possibility of introducing a new official ideology that would extend to education, cinema, theater, and poetry. This process has long since ceased to be under Putin’s direct control and is now developing independently of him, albeit with his passive consent. Here and in other important debates, Putin’s voice is absent. Should Russia’s borders be closed? Should those who have already left have their rights restricted? Who is to be exempted from mobilization? How are those designated as “foreign agents” by the state to be punished? What should be done about Prigozhin? How should the country respond to incidents like drone strikes and attempts to assassinate “ultra-patriots”?   The stances of parliamentarians, party leaders, cabinet ministers, military bloggers, and the security services on these and other matters are all well known. Yet Putin says nothing, intervening only to take steps such as retreating from the key Ukrainian city of Kherson, suspending Russia’s participation in the New START nuclear agreement, or pulling out of the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe. Even in his long-awaited address to the Federal Assembly, he merely listed measures already taken by the government. Today, Putin is just about the only person in Russia who is not increasingly engaged in politics, from former president Dmitry Medvedev, State Duma speaker Vyacheslav Volodin, and Security Council head Nikolai Patrushev to Prigozhin, the war bloggers, and television hosts. It is as though the president has recused himself, devoting himself to secret military and geopolitical matters, the details of which are known to few. This is not a sign of fear or weakness. Rather, it reflects Putin’s growing messiah complex. At present, literally all his political hopes and plans hinge on external changes that are out of his control. Putin has no instruments or resources with which to change the situation in his favor. Yet he believes that the world will change all the same and deliver him Kyiv’s capitulation.  Putin’s plan is to wait out what he sees as the inevitable transformation of the West and Ukraine. Any fear of a Ukrainian counteroffensive has given way to the conviction that little will change on the battlefield, beyond minor setbacks that he is prepared to tolerate. The calculation in the Kremlin is that absent a military breakthrough, Ukraine’s elite will fracture, leading to the emergence of a “party of peace” (i.e., capitulation), while in the West, internal divisions will force cuts to military and political support for Kyiv. Putin’s hopes cannot be dismissed as completely baseless, but his problem is that this approach is anathema to Russia’s restless political class. For all its loyalty and pliability, it has evolved dramatically during the war. These days, Russia’s elites are liable to see defeatism in inaction. All of this creates the conditions for the political ambitions of parastatal actors to soar. Despite their reputation for being instruments of the Kremlin, they are gradually building political capital and may one day run out of patience with the regime and challenge it. Already, Putin is struggling to explain what exactly he is waiting for.    In the first months of the war, many took notice of how the once-marginal pro-war “ultra-patriots” had matured politically and come to dominate the information space. Today, the officious hawks, such as Medvedev, Volodin, and Patrushev, are losing their place in Russian politics to the angry patriots, including Prigozhin, former Donbas commander Igor Strelkov, and the war bloggers. Compared to each other, the former seem like opportunists and armchair generals, while the latter, having emerged in combat conditions, look much more like the real thing.  The regime is not under threat so long as Putin’s ratings remain stable, and besides, the mechanism of power is still completely under his control. Yet his public paralysis and refusal to assume responsibility for the resolution of the most pressing problems facing Russia cannot but render him and his courtiers politically irrelevant and create a vacuum to be filled by the ultra-patriots. The day may come when Putin finds himself dependent on a once harmless bunch made dangerous by his opacity and inaction.

Russia’s annual Victory Day holiday on May 9, when the country marks the Soviet victory over Nazi Germany in World War II, was expected to be a fairly low-key affair this year. Just three days before the festivities, which included a military parade on Red Square, only one high-ranking guest was due to attend: Kyrgyz President Sadyr Japarov.  On the eve of the parade, however, it emerged that the presidents of four other Central Asian nations had also arrived at the last minute, along with Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan and Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko. For over a year now, following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine last February, the Central Asian leaders have tried to avoid the issue of the war. So why have they now risked both their reputations and their safety (after all, there were drones flying over the Kremlin the week before the parade) to attend Moscow’s military festivities in what is being seen by many as a gesture of support for Russia? Even before the war, the Central Asian presidents preferred to celebrate May 9 in their own countries: any holiday that unites the nation is seen as a way of strengthening their relatively young statehood. Some also tried to use the Soviet-era holiday to make the point that the major victory of the 20th century had not been achieved by Russia alone. Each of the Central Asian capitals held its own military parade and competed with Russia and among themselves to stump up the most lump-sum payments for veterans. Sometimes their leaders still attended the parade in Moscow – that was never a problem. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine changed everything. Russian President Vladimir Putin began to use Victory Day to justify his aggression, comparing Russia’s historic fight against the Nazis to its current so-called “special operation” against the Ukrainians.  This year’s parade inevitably resulted in images of the Central Asian leaders sitting alongside Russian troops who have been fighting in the war and applauding Putin’s speech about a “sacred struggle for the motherland.” Those images will make it much harder to insist that the countries of Central Asia do not support Russia's aggression against Ukraine. This conclusion was, of course, perfectly clear to those involved, which is why the Central Asian presidents did not initially intend to be there, as evidenced by official statements. Two weeks before the parade, Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev announced that on May 9, he would commemorate those killed in World War II in the capital Astana, while Uzbek President Shavkat Mirziyoyev ordered a fireworks display in Tashkent on May 9, with the clear intention of attending himself. Nor did Moscow itself even intend to invite anyone at first. On April 24, Putin’s spokesman Dmitry Peskov said that since it was not a big anniversary this year, no “special invitations” had been sent to anyone. Only Japarov’s visit was planned in advance: both the itinerary and the makeup of the impressive official delegation were made public. It seems, therefore, that everything in Russia is now conducted like a special operation – even invitations to a parade. “Special invitations” were issued one after another just a few days before the parade in the form of phone calls from Putin, as reported on the websites of Tajik President Emomali Rahmon on May 5 and Turkmen President Serdar Berdymukhamedov on May 7. Mirziyoyev and Tokayev’s attendance, meanwhile, was announced with photographs of them exiting their planes in Moscow. In all likelihood, with the exception of Japarov, the Central Asian presidents initially managed to politely decline the invitation to Moscow. But when Putin called them, it became not only difficult to do so, but also dangerous. All of the Central Asian nations are proud of their multi-vector foreign policy, and relations with the West are just as important to them as with Moscow or Beijing. Now that Russia and the West are on the verge of war, it has become far trickier for Central Asia to maintain its partnerships with both sides. The last few years have shown that when the West imposes sanctions against a country, they are observed by everyone, including China. Accordingly, since the invasion, Central Asia’s leaders have tried to strike a balance. None of them have recognized the territories annexed from Ukraine as part of Russia, but nor have they publicly criticized Putin or condemned the war. They have all agreed to comply with sanctions, yet have made no real efforts to stop Russia from using their territory to circumvent the restrictions. It’s a precarious balance. Much to Moscow’s annoyance, Western delegations have repeatedly traveled to Central Asia to advise local authorities on sanctions compliance, and have threatened secondary sanctions for failure to comply. Moscow has responded with veiled and asymmetrical threats, such as halting exports of Kazakh oil to Europe or prohibiting the import of products from Eurasian Economic Union countries, supposedly over GMOs. Central Asia’s leaders are left to decide for themselves how much of this is coincidence, and how much a response to their statements and actions. Therefore, the deciding factor in the presidents’ visit to Moscow was likely that the West’s actions are predictable, while Moscow’s are not. Quite simply, taking part in Moscow’s Victory Day celebrations may have looked bad, but Washington and Brussels were unlikely to impose sanctions simply for attending a parade, while the potential consequences from Moscow of refusing to attend were hard to predict. There were also pragmatic reasons for visiting Moscow. Contrary to expectations, far from severing ties with Russia, Central Asia actually drew closer to it in 2022. The reality is that it can be profitable to be located next door to a giant, isolated economy and diplomatic pariah. Firstly, Central Asian companies have made record profits from the disappearance of Western imports from the Russian market. Exports from all five Central Asian countries to Russia soared in 2022. Secondly, Central Asia is becoming a financial hub for Russians moving their savings out of Russia. Last year, more than $770 million was transferred from Russia to Kazakhstan – an almost sevenfold increase from 2021. Transfers to Uzbekistan, meanwhile, more than doubled to $17 billion. Thirdly, Central Asia is now the focus of far more international attention than ever before, with Western countries trying to persuade the region not to help Russia in any way, and Moscow trying hard to stop it from drifting away. Recognizing that this attention is largely the result of their proximity to Russia and will not last forever, Central Asia’s leaders are trying to milk the current situation for all it is worth. Accordingly, individual actions should not be interpreted as either definitive support for Russia or a move to sever relations with it. Central Asia’s political elites view the invasion of Ukraine through the prism of their own interests, top of which is the preservation of their own regimes. For this reason, they will continue to show loyalty to Putin, attending parades with him and periodically praising Moscow in public speeches. It might look like an attempt to have it both ways, but this is the survival strategy the Central Asian regimes consider most likely to work.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has turned neighboring Moldova into a tinder box. Its border with Ukraine stretches for over 1,200 kilometers, and Russian missiles have entered Moldovan airspace on more than one occasion. Moscow has threatened to prevent Moldova from becoming another “anti-Russia,” while making fearmongering accusations that the Ukrainian army has plans to seize Moldova’s breakaway region Transnistria. The direct military threat to Moldova, however, receded after the Ukrainian army defeated Russia in Kherson, and the Moldovan government appears to have successfully adapted to the new situation and restored relative stability. Despite historically strong pro-Russian sentiment, the vast majority of Moldovans now agree that cooperation with Moscow has become too toxic, while the allure of EU integration—such as the opportunity to work there—is more tempting than anything Russia has to offer. Chisinau is accordingly taking increasingly decisive measures in its fight against Russian interference.  A state of emergency has been in effect in Moldova ever since Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022, affording the government and law enforcement agencies additional powers. So far, the authorities have not resorted to radical measures, but the fact that the state of emergency is extended every two months shows that they are seriously concerned about the threat of destabilization. Throughout the past year, Chisinau has condemned Moscow for the war, but avoided direct confrontation, and was initially reluctant to actively oppose Russian interference. Moldovans welcomed Ukrainian refugees, but declined Kyiv’s requests to sell it six MiG-29 fighter jets, which was a bitter pill for Kyiv to swallow, considering that the Ukrainian army had thwarted Russia’s attempts at the start of the war to carve a corridor through Ukraine to Moldova’s Moscow-backed breakaway region, Transnistria. If it were not for Ukraine’s counterattack, then Moscow would likely have already taken control of Moldova and installed a pro-Russian president there: Russia’s rhetoric about the illegitimacy of the current Moldovan leadership is getting louder and louder. It is unlikely that Moldova, neither a large nor wealthy country, would have been able to put up much of a fight. Chisinau’s caution is understandable: after all, there are 1,500 Russian troops stationed in Transnistria, both as peacekeepers and as guards for Soviet-era arms depots. Moldova only joined anti-Russian sanctions this spring. Before that, the government demurred, citing the country’s dependence on the Russian economy, even though Moldova’s main trading partner has long been the European Union. Last year, almost 60 percent of Moldovan exports went to the EU, while less than a quarter went to the entire Commonwealth of Independent States, including Russia. And while exports to the EU increased by a third in 2022, those destined for Russia decreased by about the same amount. Even Moldova’s long-standing and almost complete dependence on Russian gas supplies has significantly weakened during the past year, largely due to the actions of Russia itself. Last October, Russia’s Gazprom reduced gas supplies to Moldova from 9 million to 5.7 million cubic meters per day in a payment dispute.  Moscow also reduced gas supplies to Transnistria, which almost left Moldova without electricity, since until 2022 up to 70 percent of electricity supplied to the rest of Moldova came from Transnistria and its regional power plant, which runs on Russian gas. The rest was supplied by Ukraine. Due to the reduction in gas supplies, Transnistria stopped selling electricity to Chisinau, while Kyiv also stopped exports due to the Russian missile strikes against its energy infrastructure, which had caused severe energy shortages across the war-torn country. Soon afterward, Chisinau reached an agreement with Tiraspol, Transnistria’s de facto capital. Chisinau agreed to send its own Russian gas supplies to Transnistria in exchange for the resumption of electricity supplies from the latter. To meet its domestic requirements, Moldova began buying gas from the EU, which by January 2023 had enabled it to save $330 per 1,000 cubic meters compared with Russian prices thanks to the relative stabilization of the European gas market.  In the spring, Ukraine resumed electricity exports, and the Transnistria power plant returned to its prewar capacity. The energy crisis hit Moldovan consumers hard, but prod Chisinau to establish alternative gas suppliers, including Romania and Greece, with plans to add Azerbaijan to that list. This energy diversification has strengthened the Moldovan government’s position in its relationship with Moscow. By this spring, following the resignation of the government and a subsequent reshuffle, Moldova had begun to toughen its stance on Russia. New Prime Minister Dorin Recean was previously a national security advisor and interior minister, and his appointment was a signal that security issues are Chisinau’s top priority right now. A few days before the reshuffle, President Maia Sandu said that Ukrainian intelligence had intercepted a Kremlin plan to organize a coup in Moldova through opposition protests and the involvement of foreign mercenaries. It’s hard to verify the claims, but what is certain is that Russia has always had extensive influence in Moldova, and has traditionally enjoyed the support of about half the population. Even now, polls show that while the majority of Moldovans condemn the Russian invasion of Ukraine, about 30 percent still admire Putin. Since last fall, the Shor party has been leading Moldovans in anti-government protests, officially against high utility prices. Russian propaganda portrays the protests as anti-European and nationwide, and describes the party’s head, the fugitive oligarch Ilan Shor, as the leader of the Moldovan opposition. But in reality, the protests only attract a couple of thousand people, and those participants do not hide the fact that they are paid to attend.  Ilan Shor fled to Israel after being sentenced to fifteen years in prison in Moldova for his role in laundering $1 billion in three Moldovan banks. A change of regime in Chisinau to a pro-Russian government would allow him to avoid prosecution and return to Moldova. Many believe that the Kremlin has offered him precisely these guarantees. The Moldovan government was concerned by the protests, but did not dare to take tough action: the Shor party has six seats in parliament, and freedom of assembly is enshrined in the constitution. But the reports of Kremlin plans to destabilize Moldova, and then the emergence of a document titled “Strategic Goals of the Russian Federation in the Republic of Moldova,” which spelled out a plan for regime change, forced Chisinau to act more decisively. The new Moldovan cabinet has appealed to the Constitutional Court to declare the Shor party illegitimate for promoting the interests of a foreign state. Meanwhile, in response to the opposition rallies, Sandu has called on Moldovans to assemble on Chisinau’s main square on May 21 in support of EU integration. About 60 percent of Moldovans are in favor of their country’s accession to the European Union. The reshuffled government has also stopped the broadcasting of Russian TV channels, and stepped up its efforts to publicly refute dubious Russian claims, such as that Ukraine is preparing to occupy Transnistria. The powers of the Information and Security Service, Moldova’s main intelligence agency, have been expanded, and a number of Russian officials—including President Vladimir Putin—have been banned from entering the country. Chisinau’s position on Transnistria has also become tougher. In February, the Moldovan parliament amended the law to make separatism an offense punishable by jail time, prompting outrage in Tiraspol. Chisinau insists that the amendments will not be applied retrospectively: only to future manifestations of separatism. Still, it is not yet clear how the new law will work in practice, so for now, Transnistrian officials prefer not to be seen in Chisinau. Russia’s actions have also prompted a public discussion in Moldova about the country’s armed forces, which will not be able to put up much resistance to a serious security threat. At the Munich Security Conference in February, Sandu asked NATO countries to provide Moldova with air defense systems. The government has not yet abandoned neutrality, but is making it clear that it is ready to turn to NATO for help in the event of an escalation. Chisinau’s course toward more resolute resistance to the Kremlin doesn’t mean that the country will be able to rid itself of its dependence on Russia overnight, of course. Nor will Moscow relinquish its foothold inside the country without a fight. Most likely, the Kremlin will continue to interfere in Moldovan political life by financing pro-Russian parties, portraying NATO as a threat, and accusing Sandu of trying to drag Moldova into the war. It’s possible that the pro-Russian forces will be able to take advantage of the country’s socioeconomic problems to put in a decent showing in the next elections. Even that scenario, however, will not result in fundamental changes to Moldova’s foreign policy. Russia’s aggression against Ukraine is helping to consolidate Moldovan society in favor of EU integration and emancipation from Moscow. No matter who ends up leading the country in the future, they will not be able to ignore that consensus.