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In retrospect, there was perhaps nothing surprising about Russia’s decision to invade Ukraine on Feb. 24, 2022. Vladimir Putin’s intentions were, after all, hiding in plain sight and signaled in the months running up to the incursion. What could not be foreseen, however, is where the conflict finds itself now. Heading into its third year, the war has become bogged down: Neither is it a stalemate, nor does it look like either side could make dramatic advances any time soon. Russia appears to be on the ascendancy, having secured the latest major battlefield victory, but Ukrainian fighters have exceeded military expectations with their doggedness in the past, and may do so again. But as a foreign policy expert and former journalist who spent many years covering Russia, I share the view of those who argue that the conflict is potentially at a pivotal point: If Washington does not continue to fully support President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and his military, then Ukraine’s very survival could be at risk. I believe it would also jeopardize America’s leadership in the world and global security. How the conflict develops during the rest of 2024 will depend on many factors, but three may be key: supplies, information and political will. The supplies race Russia and Ukraine are locked in a race to resupply its war resources – not just in terms of soldiers, but also ammunition and missiles. Both sides are desperately trying to shore up the number of soldiers it can deploy. In December 2023, Putin ordered his generals to increase troop numbers by nearly 170,000, taking the total number of soldiers to 1.32 million. Meanwhile, Ukraine is said to be looking at plans to increase its military by 500,000 troops. Of course, here, Russia has the advantage of being able to draw on a population more than three times that of Ukraine. Also, whereas Putin can simply order up more troops, Zelenskyy must get measures approved through parliament. Aside from personnel, there is also the need for a steady supply of weapons and ammunition – and there have been reports that both sides are struggling to maintain sufficient levels. Russia appears particularly eager to boost its number of ballistic missiles, as they are better equipped for countering Ukraine air defense systems despite being slower than cruise missiles. Increasingly, Moscow appears to be looking to North Korea and Iran as suppliers. After Kim Jong Un, the North Korean leader, visited Russia in 2023, the U.S. accused Pyongyang of supplying Russia with ballistic missiles. Iran, meanwhile, has delivered to Russia a large number of powerful surface-to-surface ballistic missiles and drones. Ukraine, meanwhile, is dependent on foreign military equipment. Supplies were stronger at the beginning of the war, but since then, Ukraine’s military has suffered from the slow, bureaucratic nature of NATO and U.S. deliveries. It wasn’t, for example, until the summer of 2023 that the U.S. approved Europe’s request to provide F-16s to Ukraine. Ukraine needs more of everything, including air defense munitions, artillery shells, tanks and missile systems. It is also running short of medical supplies and has seen hospital shortages of drugs at a time when rampant infections are proving resistant to antibiotics. Perhaps the biggest factor that remains in Russia’s favor when it comes to supplies is the onerous restrictions placed on Ukraine from the West, limiting its ability to attack Russian territory with U.S. or NATO equipment to avoid a wider war. For example, the Ukrainian military had a High Mobility Artillery Rocket System with a 50-mile range that could hit targets inside Russia, but it modified the range to keep the U.S. military satisfied that it would not cross a Russian red line. If this policy could be relaxed, that might be a game changer for Ukraine, although it would raise the stakes for the U.S. The information war The Ukraine conflict is also a war of messaging. To this end, Putin uses propaganda to bolster support for the campaign at home, while undermining support for Ukraine elsewhere – for example, by planting stories in Europe that cause disenchantment with the war. One outrageous claim in the early weeks of the war was that Zelenskyy had taken his own life. The rumor came from pro-Russia online operatives as part of an aggressive effort to harm Ukrainian morale, according to cybersecurity firm Mandiant. More recently, in France, stories appeared that questioned the value of assistance to Ukraine and reminded the public of the negative impact of Russian sanctions on the French. Stirring dissent in this way is a classic Putin play to raise doubts. And investigative reporting points toward a disinformation network being run out of the Kremlin, which includes social media bots deployed on Ukrainian sites spreading stories of Zelenskyy’s team being corrupt and warning that the war would go badly. Given that Putin controls the Russian media and is quick to crack down on dissent, it is hard to really know what Russians think. But one reputable polling agency recently reported strong support in Russia for both Putin and the war in Ukraine. Ukrainians, too, still support the fight against Russia, polling shows. But some war fatigue has no doubt lowered morale. There are other signs of domestic strain in Ukraine. At the end of 2023, tensions grew between Zelenskyy and his top military commander, General Valery Zaluzhny who had complained about weaponry. Zelenskyy ended up firing the military chief, risking political backlash and underscoring that not all is well in the top chain of command. Should disunity and war fatigue continue into the war’s third year, it could serious impair Ukraine’s ability to fight back against a resurgent Russian offensive. The politics of conflict But it isn’t just domestic politics in Ukraine and Russia that will decide the outcome of the war. U.S. politics and European unity could be a factor in 2024 in determining the future of this conflict. In the U.S., Ukraine aid has become politicized – with aid to Ukraine becoming an increasingly partisan issue. In early February, the Senate finally passed an emergency aid bill for Ukraine and Israel that would see US$60.1 billion go to Kyiv. But the bill’s fate in the House is unknown. And the looming 2024 presidential elections could complicate matters further. Former president Donald Trump has made no secret of his aversion to aid packages over loans, calling them “stupid,” and has long argued that Americans shouldn’t be footing the bill for the conflict. Recently, he has made bombastic statements about NATO and threatened not to adhere to the alliance’s commitment to protect members if they were attacked by Russia. And uncertainty about American assistance could leave Europe carrying more of the financial load. European Union members have had to absorb the majority of the 6.3 million Ukrainians who have fled the country since the beginning of the conflict. And that puts a strain on resources. European oil needs also suffer from the sanctions against Russian companies. Whether these potential war determinants – supplies, information and politics – mean that the Ukraine war will not be entering a fourth year in 12 months time, however, is far from certain. In fact, one thing that does appear clear is that the war that some predicted would be over in weeks looks set to continue for some time still.

Azerbaijan was expelled from the Council of Europe’s Parliamentary Assembly over its handling of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and its many democratic shortcomings. Geopolitical concerns and the urgency of natural gas cooperation are likely to prompt reengagement and repair strained relations. In a significant turn of events on 24 January, the Council of Europe’s Parliamentary Assembly (PACE) voted by 76 to 10 to expel the Azerbaijani delegation from the organisation. Anticipating the results of the vote, the Azerbaijani delegation preemptively withdrew from PACE in an attempt to save face. While the PACE report in the aftermath of the vote highlighted longstanding concerns regarding democratic processes, including issues with conducting free and fair elections, ensuring freedom of speech, and addressing human rights abuses, central to the expulsion were developments in the Nagorno-Karabakh region that angered some PACE members. Particularly, the PACE report criticized Azerbaijan’s lightning offensive in September 2023 that saw the country gain control of Khankendi (known as Stepanakert in Armenian), the capital of the region, leading to the mass exodus of all 100,000 Armenian residents to Armenia. Azerbaijan characterised this move as an “anti-terror operation,” a designation that has stirred controversy. In the lead-up to 7 February presidential elections, President Ilham Heydar oghlu Aliyev further escalated tensions with the Council of Europe by issuing threats to withdraw Azerbaijan from various European institutions, including the Council of Europe and the European Court of Human Rights. The elections, which resulted in Aliyev’s landslide victory, deepened the rift between Azerbaijan and Europe. Observers from the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) claimed that the elections “lacked genuine pluralism and critical voices were continuously stifled.” Garnering a staggering 92.4 percent of the votes, Aliyev’s victory was seemingly uncontested, with his opponents widely perceived as token candidates rather than serious contenders. The main opposition parties opted to boycott the elections altogether, citing an unfair political climate. Prior to the election, the Azerbaijani government intensified its crackdown on independent media outlets, exemplified by the detention of top editors from Abzasmedia, an independent news outlet, on trumped up charges. While recent events may suggest a significant downturn in Azerbaijan’s relations with Europe, they do not necessarily signify a permanent rupture in bilateral ties. For the past two decades, Azerbaijan’s relations with the EU have been characterised by tough bilateral negotiations rather than a one-sided affair dominated by EU’s agenda. Azerbaijan seeks close cooperation with the EU but on its own terms, aiming for a more balanced relationship that respects its sovereignty and interests. This stance has been facilitated by Azerbaijan’s increasing leverage on energy and geopolitical affairs, which has enabled it to push back against the EU’s unilateral policymaking. Thanks to Europe’s reliance on Azerbaijani natural gas and Azerbaijan’s secular and stable leadership, European policymakers have historically viewed it as a strategic ally in the volatile South Caucasus region. Throughout the 2000s, despite its authoritarian governance, Azerbaijan’s secular regime was considered an asset in Western geopolitical strategies, particularly in the US-led global war on terror and in managing tensions with Iran. In recent years, the relationship between the EU and Azerbaijan has taken on a somewhat conflicting character. On the one hand, there has been a noticeable trend of smooth and deepening cooperation in matters relating to energy. Azerbaijan’s strategic position as a significant energy supplier has fostered closer ties with the EU in the realm of energy security and resource diplomacy, a dynamic that has been propelled by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022. However, this cooperation stands in stark contrast to the simmering tensions and periodic conflicts over issues pertaining to democracy and human rights. Indeed, the EU’s efforts to promote democratic values and human rights have often clashed with Azerbaijan’s domestic policies, leading to friction and discord. As one scholar noted, “Azerbaijan has been a forerunner in resisting the EU’s agenda,” demonstrating a resilience that has tested the EU’s transformative power to its limits. In the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine which has seen Russian exports to Europe cease entirely, and European gas prices surge to astronomical levels, the EU signed an MOU with Azerbaijan in July 2022 to double Azerbaijan’s gas exports over the next 5 years. During her visit to Azerbaijan for the occasion, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen called Azerbaijan “a key partner in our efforts to move away from Russian fossil fuels,” elevating the strategic leverage of Azerbaijan vis-à-vis Europe. However, the EU’s gas situation began to stabilise by 2023 as liquefied natural gas (LNG) imports from the United States and Qatar surged, complemented by the expansion of renewable energy sources and nuclear power. This diversification strategy, coupled with efforts to enhance energy efficiency, contributed to a notable drop in gas prices to pre-war levels by February 2024. Last December, the Azerbaijani government announced that it was on track to double its gas exports to Europe by 2027. However, significant challenges persist, particularly regarding the actual commitment from European buyers to purchase the additional gas promised by Azerbaijan. As of now, the consortium overseeing gas exports from Azerbaijan has secured commitments for only 1.2 billion cubic meters per year, a far cry from the 10 billion cubic meters needed to achieve the stated goal of doubling exports. Azerbaijan’s reliance on leveraging gas exports as a means to gain influence over Europe is not a sustainable long-term strategy. In a region where Russia and Iran assert aggressive expansionist policies, Azerbaijan requires Western partners to effectively counterbalance them. With the impending conclusion of the Russian peacekeeping mission in 2025, and Azerbaijan’s desire to see them depart, aligning with Russia at the expense of Europe would not serve Azerbaijan’s best interests. Thus, there are indications that President Aliyev’s harsh anti-European rhetoric may have been more of a temporary populist manoeuvre rather than a fundamental shift in Azerbaijan’s approach to the EU. Azerbaijan not only relies on energy cooperation with the EU but also seeks to avoid being associated with Russia and Belarus within the European community of nations. Furthermore, Azerbaijan’s comparison of itself with its smaller neighbours, Georgia and Armenia, both of which have made significant strides towards European integration, underscores the reputational risks of distancing itself from European institutions. Recognising the need for damage control, the Azerbaijani government will be inclined towards reengaging with the EU and the European Commission. President Aliyev’s statements indicate a desire for Azerbaijan to re-join the PACE. Significant democratic progress is unlikely in Aliyev’s Azerbaijan. However, the regime might entertain releasing some of the recently jailed journalists as a cosmetic change in a bid to return to PACE.

As its constituent states emerged from the ruins of the Soviet Union, Central Asia has often struggled to balance both its inter-state hostilities and surrounding international geopolitical competition. While all five states have adopted remarkably different means to navigate this challenging context, largely the region has proven victim to the excesses of authoritarian and despotic regimes. The inheritance of a distorted Soviet-era centralisation and the prevalence of lucrative natural resource deposits has facilitated this unfortunate state of affairs across the region. Uzbekistan is no exception in this regard, with an increasingly hardline hyper-presidential system. Covering much of the land between the Caspian sea and the Pamir Mountains, the region’s most populous country is emerging into a critical regional player. Under both leaders since independence, the country has attempted to balance its geopolitical profile to ensure state and regime security. It has attempted to ensure this whilst perpetuating an economic system and domestic political establishment that ensures the perpetual poverty of the population. Faced with both an increasingly challenging regional environment and greater interest from external parties, the future Tashkent carves out for itself has critical implications for that of the region. Politics and Poverty in Uzbekistan – Uzbekistan’s domestic politics are defined fundamentally by hyper-centralisation. The geographical unitary power structure, with minimal rates of devolution are indicative of this approach. The tendencies for hyper-centralisation are clearly inherited from the Soviet era. State power is highly concentrated in the executive branch. Ostensibly Uzbekistan is a democratic country, constitutionally allowing for a proliferation of distinct political parties. However, requirements of state-registration severely curtail the development of regional parties, with every new party requiring a minimum number of signatures throughout the whole country. This highly bureaucratic system for party registration ensures there is no effective opposition within the Olij Majlis (Uzbek Parliament). The shadows of Soviet history also appear within the economic construction of the state. Nearly all major strategic industries remain under the control of state-owned companies. This has ensured skewed economic development, producing a significant bias for the more urbanised and industrialised eastern regions of the country, whilst leaving peripheral regions perpetually poverty-stricken. Police barriers along inter-urban roads and mandatory population registration restrict internal economic migration. The environmental destruction of the Aral Sea has left Karakalpakstan the most deprived and destitute of all these peripheral regions. As the singular grantee of an autonomous status from Tashkent, the area holds a unique position within the domestic Uzbek political establishment. This is in spite of the consistent efforts by the government to complete the centralisation of the state. In 2022, attempts to revoke the region of its autonomous status resulted in protests that saw 18 people killed, and hundreds more wounded or detained. Despite Mirziyoyev decision to pull back on this, the violent reaction towards the protests indicates the great degrees of subjugation and desperation the region remains under. Despite the better attempts by propaganda to ensure the image of the State as the singular guarantor of peace and security, frustration is felt everyday through the lack of substantial opportunities and persistent security sweeps . Foreign Policy of Karimov – Islam Karimov quickly rose to power from the collapse of Soviet rule. Prior to independence, Uzbekistan was characterised by very few nationalist popular movements, with independence really occurring as a sudden moment. Indeed, the initial reluctance was shown to break from the Soviet Union. From Moscow, Karimov inherited a highly centralised political establishment. This provided the blueprint for the hyper-presidential system he doggedly maintained throughout his presidency. The most important foreign policy directive for Karimov was to ensure a strategic balance of larger powers. Despite ostensibly securing the maintenance of the country’s sovereignty, the most important motive for Karimov was the preservation of his personal regime. This focus on strategic balancing primarily emerged from a structural paranoia. Perceived regime threats became especially pertinent with the rise of the ‘Colour Revolutions’. Tashkent’s relation with the US declined dramatically following American support for these movements in analogous states (Georgia, Ukraine, Kyrgyzstan). The direct US criticism of the state’s role in the Andijan massacre, ensured Karimov saw deepening relations with DC as a threat to regime survival. The Andijan massacre saw 700 civilians killed by security forces over fears of rising Islamist movements. Re-engagement with Russia escalated during its aftermath as Moscow promised to reject all calls for independent investigation. Foreign Policy of Mirziyoyev – Following the death of Karimov in 2016, Mirziyoyev quickly positioned himself as the state’s successor. The initial months of Mirziyoyev’s presidency were treated with a great deal of excitement from those wishing for reform. He publicly vowed to address the states dismal human rights record, beginning with reforms for the rule of law and transparency in courts. Most importantly he abolished the practice of forced labour for large swathes of the population in the country’s vast cotton fields, a practice representing one of the greatest instances of slave labour in the modern world. This potential era of reform was quickly brought to an unfortunate end. Following an 87.1% majority in a snap election last year, Mirziyoyev initiated a series of reforms that extended the presidential term limit from five to seven years and removed term limits. Since coming to office, Mirziyoyev has pursued a distinctly expansive and open approach to foreign relations, especially compared to his predecessor. Whereas both can be defined by pragmatic use of strategic balancing, the methods both presidents have used to achieve this have been remarkably differently. Indeed, Mirziyoyev considered his predecessor’s foreign policy as a major economic and security constraint for the state. Whilst Karimov focusses on utilising a singular larger power at one time, Mirziyoyev sees greater utility in a simultaneous multilateral approach. This has had a notable regional effect, as Uzbekistan has engaged with neighbours previously ignored in the state’s foreign policy. For example, a visa program has been initiated for short term stays for Kyrgyz people living in the cross-border communities in the Fergana Valley. As with other Central Asian states, many ethnic Uzbek communities remain separated from Tashkent due to the complications of drawing post-Soviet border demarcations. Where this has caused significant regional hostilities, most notably with the consistent violence across porous Kyrgyz-Tajik border, Uzbekistan has chosen to not claim any of these communities. The new president has also initiated new strategic engagement with Tajikistan, with which relations remained frozen for two decades due to water security issues. Uzbekistan has further expanded its close allies, with a Turkish-Iranian-Pakistani summit held in Tashkent last year. In this regard, the new foreign policy initiated under the presidency of Mirziyoyev represents an expansion of multilateral relations without focussing too much on the pursuit of one singular relationship. The Future of Uzbek Strategic Balancing – The future of Uzbekistan’s foreign policy is dependent on how it manages its strategic partnerships moving forward. Mirziyoyev has made important moves to increase regional outreach. However, the most important relations still pertain to the larger powers. A Sino-Russian rivalry over Uzbekistan has long been predicted by analysts. In the immediate picture, China appears to be the more lucrative option for the President. Offering financial aid and infrastructure investment bereft of the implied threats to regime survival that initially undermined Tashkent’s relation with Washington. Russia continues to suffer financial restrictions from the ongoing Ukrainian invasion. Remittances from migrant workers, an agreement that previously held significant mutual benefit, have declined rapidly. Indeed, the most important human factor in relations now appears to be the mass emigration of Russians leaving to avoid the Moscow draft. Last year, US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken also completed a large diplomatic effort to draw Central Asian leaders closer to the US and to ensure these states aren’t used by Russia to evade Western sanctions. It is unlikely that Uzbekistan will take a hardline stance against Russian aggression, but the declining utility of Moscow as a strategic partner does indicate a shift of relations. In this regard, Uzbekistan will continue to retain its relations with Russia, but will enlarge and diversify its portfolio of engaged actors. Following the Mirziyoyev foreign policy pursued so far, beneficial relations with regional neighbours will remain an important development but the manner in which Tashkent manages its larger partnerships will be critical to the country’s future.  More about this: Bibliography – • Anceschi, Luca. "Integrating Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy Making: The Cases of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010): 143-158 • Dadabaev, Timur. "Uzbekistan as Central Asian Game Changer? Uzbekistan’s Foreign Policy Construction in the Post-Karimov Era." Asian Journal of Comparative Politics 4, no. 2 (2019): 162-175 • Gulyamova, Lola. The Geography of Uzbekistan: At the Crossroads of the Silk Road. Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2022 • Laruelle, Marlene. Constructing the Uzbek State: Narratives of Post-Soviet Years. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books, 2017 • Spechler, Dina Rome and Martin C. Spechler. "The Foreign Policy of Uzbekistan: Sources, Objectives and Outcomes: 1991-2009." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010): 159-170 • Yilamu, Wumaier and SpringerLink (Online service). Neoliberalism and Post-Soviet Transition: Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. Cham: Springer International Publishing, 2018 References- 1 Yilamu, Wumaier and SpringerLink (Online service). Neoliberalism and Post-Soviet Transition: Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. Cham: Springer International Publishing, 59 2 Yilamu, Wumaier and SpringerLink (Online service). Neoliberalism and Post-Soviet Transition: Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. Cham: Springer International Publishing, 59 3 Gulyamova, Lola. The Geography of Uzbekistan: At the Crossroads of the Silk Road. Cham, Switzerland: Springer, 2022, 152 4 Spechler, Dina Rome and Martin C. Spechler. "The Foreign Policy of Uzbekistan: Sources, Objectives and Outcomes: 1991-2009." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 165 5 https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/jul/04/uzbekistan-regional-state-of-emergency-deadly-unrest-karakalpakstan-autonomy 6 Laruelle, Marlene. Constructing the Uzbek State: Narratives of Post-Soviet Years. Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books, 2017, 72 7 Yilamu, Wumaier and SpringerLink (Online service). Neoliberalism and Post-Soviet Transition: Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. Cham: Springer International Publishing, 48 8 Spechler, Dina Rome and Martin C. Spechler. "The Foreign Policy of Uzbekistan: Sources, Objectives and Outcomes: 1991-2009." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 164 9 Anceschi, Luca. "Integrating Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy Making: The Cases of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 145 10 https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2015/5/12/uzbekistan-10-years-after-the-andijan-massacre 11 Anceschi, Luca. "Integrating Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy Making: The Cases of Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 152 12 https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2018/10/14/on-the-reform-path-uzbekistan-opens-up-after-years-of-isolation 13 https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/7/10/uzbek-president-re-elected-for-seven-year-term-in-snap-election 14 Dadabaev, Timur. "Uzbekistan as Central Asian Game Changer? Uzbekistan’s Foreign Policy Construction in the Post-Karimov Era." Asian Journal of Comparative Politics 4, no. 2 (2019): 165 15 Spechler, Dina Rome and Martin C. Spechler. "The Foreign Policy of Uzbekistan: Sources, Objectives and Outcomes: 1991-2009." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 160 16 Spechler, Dina Rome and Martin C. Spechler. "The Foreign Policy of Uzbekistan: Sources, Objectives and Outcomes: 1991-2009." Central Asian Survey 29, no. 2 (2010), 160 17 Dadabaev, Timur. "Uzbekistan as Central Asian Game Changer? Uzbekistan’s Foreign Policy Construction in the Post-Karimov Era." Asian Journal of Comparative Politics 4, no. 2 (2019): 167 18 https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/11/9/pakistan-turkey-iran-leaders-visit-central-asia-in-diplomatic-push 19 Dadabaev, Timur. "Uzbekistan as Central Asian Game Changer? Uzbekistan’s Foreign Policy Construction in the Post-Karimov Era." Asian Journal of Comparative Politics 4, no. 2 (2019): 170 20 https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/27/world/asia/blinken-china-russia-ukraine-war.html?searchResultPosition=9 News Sources – https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2018/10/14/on-the-reform-path-uzbekistan-opens-up-after-years-of-isolation On the Reform Path: Uzbekistan opens up after years of isolation (2018). https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/11/9/pakistan-turkey-iran-leaders-visit-central-asia-in-diplomatic-push Pakistan/Turkey/Iran Leaders visit Central Asia in Diplomatic Push (2023) https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/7/10/uzbek-president-re-elected-for-seven-year-term-in-snap-election Uzbek President re-elected for Seven Year Term in Snap Election (July 2023) https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/5/12/uzbekistans-president-seeking-to-extend-grip-on-power-analysts Uzbekistan’s President Seeking to Extend Grip on Power: Analysts https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2015/5/12/uzbekistan-10-years-after-the-andijan-massacre Uzbekistan 10 Years After the Andijan Massacre https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/27/world/asia/blinken-china-russia-ukraine-war.html?searchResultPosition=9 In Central Asia, Blinken Will Urge Distance from Russia, and Ukraine War (2023) https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/jul/04/uzbekistan-regional-state-of-emergency-deadly-unrest-karakalpakstan-autonomy Uzbekistan Imposes Regional State of Emergency after Deadly Unrest –  

There is very little drama in Russia’s upcoming presidential election this weekend. We all know Vladimir Putin will win. The only real question is whether he will receive more than 75% of the vote. It could be tempting to see these results as a sign of the strength of the Russian system. Recent gains by the Russian army in Ukraine seem to further support this. But my own research – soon to be published in a forthcoming book – shows the election results and Russia’s military gains in Ukraine hide a much more problematic reality for the country. Russia’s system of government is not only undemocratic, rights abusing and unpredictable. It is also increasingly dysfunctional, trapped in a cycle of poor quality and weak governance that cannot be solved by one man, no matter how much power he has. The constitutional dark arts The weakness stems from the hyper-centralisation of power in Russia around the president. This centralisation is the product of an increasingly common logic that I call the “constitutional dark arts”. This logic generally holds that democracy and rights protection are best guaranteed in a constitutional system that centralises authority in one elected leader. This line of thinking is present in many populist, authoritarian countries, such as Hungary and Turkey. The foundation of this kind of system in Russia is the 1993 Constitution. It was drafted by then-President Boris Yeltsin and his supporters (many in the West) as an expedient for dismantling communism and implementing radical economic reforms. As such, it contains a number of rights provisions and democratic guarantees, alongside provisions that centralise vast power in an elected Russian president. Yeltsin (and his Western supporters) described this system as democratic because it made the president answerable to the people. They also argued that rights provisions would allow courts to limit any abuses by the centralised state. These reformers hoped Yeltsin could use this concentrated power to build democracy in Russia. Thirty years later, however, we can see how this use of the “constitutional dark arts” backfired spectacularly. Since 2000, Putin has ruthlessly deployed this centralised authority to eliminate any checks on power. He has also transformed elections, the media and the courts from sources of accountability into mechanisms to project the image of strong presidential power. The upcoming presidential election is just the most recent example. Poor quality governance in Russia Although this centralised system has allowed Putin to dominate politics, it fosters weak and poor governance, particularly outside Moscow. At least two factors are at play. First, centralised decision-making in Russia is often made using incomplete or false information. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 is an example. It was based on intelligence that the operation would be over quickly and Ukrainians would likely welcome Russian forces. Second, centralised directives are delegated to under-resourced, incompetent and weak institutions. Russia’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic was disastrous, in large part due to the poorly resourced regional authorities who were overwhelmed by a crisis of this scale. This dysfunction has been a central message of the political movement led by the opposition leader Alexei Navalny. Before his death last month, Navalny and his team harshly criticised the corruption and weakness of the Russian regime and its inability to fix roads, provide health care and adequately pay teachers or doctors. This message was potent, making Navalny the first opposition politician to build a broad coalition that spanned Russia’s 11 time zones. This broad coalition frightened the Kremlin to such an extent that it led to Navalny’s poisoning in August 2020. Although it remains to be seen how his political movement responds to his death, this central criticism of the government remains one of its most potent messages. Although it’s impossible to get independent polling on domestic issues during the Ukraine war, it does appear Putin and his administration are concerned about this weakness. In his February 29 address to parliament, Putin tacitly acknowledged these problems, promising new national projects to improve infrastructure, support families and enhance the quality of life. These kind of promises, however, are unlikely to be implemented. Putin has traditionally promised these kinds of changes around presidential elections. But, when it comes to implementing them, Russia’s regional sub-units are often given no resources to do so. With so much money now going to the war, it is unlikely the latest set of promises will be any different. An increasingly dysfunctional Russia With Putin soon to start his fifth presidential term, this centralisation and personalisation of power is only going to increase. Externally, this centralisation is likely to produce an increasingly unpredictable Russia, led by a man making decisions on the basis of an increasingly paranoid world view and incorrect or manipulated information. As former German Chancellor Angela Merkel once described Putin, he is really “living in another world”. This is likely to lead to more foreign policy adventurism and aggression. It will likely foster harsher repression of any dissenting voices inside Russia, as well. We are also likely to see an increasingly dysfunctional Russia, one in which roads, housing, schools, health care and other infrastructure will continue to deteriorate, particularly outside of Moscow. This extends to the military, which remains weak despite its recent battlefield gains. For instance, Russia’s overly centralised command structure has decimated the officer class and led to stunning losses of equipment. Although Russia has managed to muddle through by relying on its vast human and industrial resources, these systemic problems are taking a serious toll on its fighting capacity. Despite escalating repression, these problems pose an opportunity for a democratic challenger, particularly when Putin is inevitably replaced by another leader. Russia’s dysfunctional government is also an important reminder for Western media, policymakers and commentators. While it should not serve as a reason for complacency, highlighting Russia’s poor governance is an important tool in combating the Kremlin’s carefully curated image of power and control.

Twenty-five years ago, Russian president Boris Yeltsin chose his fifth and final prime minister, Vladimir Putin. In a decade marked by financial crisis, disastrous war, corruption, and Yeltsin’s lengthy illness, the term of the prime minister was always limited. They were the target when anything went wrong in the Russian Federation, as it often did. The latest choice was not expected to last long either. A former head of the Federal Security Services, he had served earlier in a desk job in Dresden for its predecessor, the KGB, a position that ended abruptly with the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 and the collapse of the East German Communist state. Putin may have remained obscure, but prior to his appointment as Prime Minister he managed to attach his career to the popular mayor of St. Petersburg, Anatoly Sobchak. Putin was appointed deputy mayor, but Sobchak lost his campaign for re-election in 1997 and was later accused of corruption. He died suddenly of a heart attack in 2000. Putin’s sudden rise culminated with the unexpected resignation of Yeltsin at the end of 1999. He became acting president until the elections of March 2000, and then won easily with only one serious opponent, Communist Party leader Gennady Zyuganov. Putin restarted the war in Chechnya, which had ended with a treaty in 1997 that left the status quo in place. The new war was conducted ruthlessly. The Chechen capital Grozny was erased and several other towns were completely destroyed. The Chechens mounted an effective terrorist campaign outside of their territory. In October 2002, about forty Chechen terrorists attacked a Moscow theatre, holding some 700 people hostage. Russian special forces, on Putin’s orders, stormed the theatre after gas was pumped into the auditorium. All the terrorists died, but so did over 100 attendees. Putin’s ruthlessness was evident. There would be no compromise with terrorists. In 2004, the Chechen president Akhmad Kadyrov was assassinated. Putin wanted Kadyrov’s son, Ramzan, who had switched sides in the war and offered his services to Putin, to succeed him but he had to wait three more years for him to reach the minimum age of 30. Domestically, Putin was fortunate. After a disastrous decline in the late 1990s, oil and gas prices began to rise. The Russian economy recovered. Putin accepted the credit. He removed those oligarchs of the Yeltsin era who refused to stay out of politics; the others became part of his regime. He also gradually began to reassert Russian regional dominance. In several former Soviet republics this was the era of “color revolutions” with popular leaders replacing corrupt figures, often holdovers from the Soviet era. In Ukraine’s Orange revolution protests, Viktor Yushchenko, a pro-European leader defeated pro-Kremlin Viktor Yanukovych after a rerun of the third round of the election. To the south, Mikeil Saakashvili came to power in Georgia with similar goals. Putin’s response was to work more closely with Belarus, a reliably ally under Aliaksandr Lukashenka, and to promote the Collective Security Treaty Organization as a counter to expanding NATO. Aside from Belarus, most of the Central Asian states were included. Alongside this, relations with the West began to decline. Though Putin had some common ground with US president George W. Bush – both were faced with terrorism linked to militant Islamic groups – he resented having to kowtow to the United States as the sole world policeman. He believed the West had fomented the color uprisings. In 2008, after NATO forces colluded with the formation of Kosovo, Putin claimed that the territorial agreements that ended the Second World War had been violated. Russia openly backed two breakaway regions of Georgia – Abkhazia and South Ossetia – and invaded the small Caucasian state in the same year, occupying Gori and other towns. In that same year, Putin completed his second term as president, the maximum under the Russian Constitution, and switched positions with his Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev, thirteen years his junior, a diminutive figure whom the West bizarrely regarded as a reformer and a liberal who would moderate Russian policies. The period 2008–12, with Putin in the background, saw one major success. After an insipid presidency marked by foreign travel and symbolic concessions to Ukrainian nationalism, Yushchenko fell from power in 2010 receiving just 1.5% of the popular vote. Yanukovych, the former governor of Donetsk, was finally president. Still, there was strong opposition to Putin’s return to power in 2012 (having amended the constitution to allow himself to do so), led by former deputy prime minister and governor of Nizhny Novgorod Boris Nemtsov. Mass protests took place in Moscow and several other cities. Putin was again triumphant, well ahead of Zyuganov and maverick nationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Russia faced another crisis in Ukraine in 2014. After Yanukovych decided not to sign the Association Membership with the EU in Vilnius, mass protests began in Kyiv’s Maidan. Yanukovych tried to break them up by force on November 30, which catalyzed a mass movement. By February, Yanukovych had fled and over 100 protesters were dead. In March 2014, Putin began his invasion of Ukraine by occupying Crimea. Russia also backed a separatist revolt in the Donbas, Yanukovych’s home area, with two small breakaway republics announcing their metamorphosis into “people’s republics.” They were largely unrecognized, even by Russia but they remained in place for the next eight years, after Ukraine’s ramshackle army failed to recapture them. Putin’s third term also saw the assassination of Boris Nemtsov, who was walking outside the Moscow Kremlin with his Ukrainian girlfriend. A Chechen gang was the main suspect, possibly on the orders of Kadyrov. Russian agents had already assassinated several other troublesome figures: the courageous journalist Anna Politkovskaya, who monitored the Chechen war in diary form; and Russian defector Aleksandr Litvinenko, poisoned with polonium-210 in London by a former member of the FSB. After 2014, Putin appeared to cast off any illusions that he was approachable, moral, or confined by the usual protocols of a world leader. He began to regard the West as degenerate and in decline, and democracy as a failed experiment. He became extremely rich through his links with oligarchs, and powerful through his siloviki (those authorized to use force against civilians), a holdover from his days as head of the secret police. A hierarchical structure emerged, Putin, his Security Council (including his powerful Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov), his United Russia party that controlled the Duma, and the masses. Using social media, the Russian leadership disseminated a world perspective that anathematized the Americans, NATO, “Gay Europe,” the West, which sought to control the world and reduce Russia to a second-rate power. There were some followers in unexpected places: admirers in the West, some of whom met regularly in discussions of the Valdai Club, some in academia who refused to shed their earlier admiration for Putin’s strong leadership, Viktor Orban in Hungary, and eventually President Donald J. Trump in the United States. By now Putin had developed a vision for his country and the future: a restoration of empire, the ‘Russkiy Mir’, that would include most of Ukraine, Belarus, and later other lands of the Baltic States, Georgia, and Moldova. But it must start with Ukraine, the sacred heartland of the Russian state and Crimea, where it all began in 988 with Prince Vladimr of Kiev (formerly known as Volodymyr of Kyiv). To ensure a righteous foundation and a renewed sense of identity, Putin turned to the ‘Great Patriotic War’, the time when the Soviet Unon had thrown back the Nazi hordes and liberated democratic Europe. The collaborators of that era were linked to his contemporary enemies: Ukrainian and Baltic nationalists. Russian historians began to revise a narrative of the war centred on the Holocaust of the Jews. In the new version, Russians were the main victims of Nazi Genocide. This delusional and twisted interpretation of the past pushed Putin into an expanded war in February 2022, one calculated to destroy the Ukrainian state founded in 1991. That attempt failed because the Ukrainian army was much stronger and backed by the population. But it is still in progress and has costs tens of thousands of lives. The emperor is now crowned again for another six years. Legally he can remain in office until 2036, when he will turn 84. By then Russia may be even larger, but with fewer people as population decline continues, advanced by wars and with resources depleted as oil and gas supplies dwindle. In such a scenario, Russia will continue to be ruled by a physically declining tyrant, still feared by his timid associates. They have seen what happens to those who cross his path. But Vladimir Putin is not immortal and, in that sense, his time in history is little more than the tick of a clock.

With the possibility of a second Trump presidency looming, it is high time to Europeanise NATO’s defence plans Lest anyone had missed the point, Donald Trump has now provided helpful clarification of his attitude towards America’s NATO allies – and specifically those that fail to spend the benchmark 2 per cent of their GDP on defence. If elected he would, he declared at a campaign rally, “encourage” Russia “to do whatever the hell they want” to underspending NATO allies. Reacting to a storm of protest from European leaders, he was happy to repeat himself: “Look, if they’re not going to pay, we’re not going to protect. OK?”. Nowadays, it is less easy for complacent Europeans to shrug off such observations as typical Trumpisms. They have evidence that Trump redux would be likely to apply his malevolent instincts much more efficiently than he did in his chaotic first term as president. And the chances of him having the opportunity to do so are increasingly likely: he has now steamrollered the opposition in the early Republican primaries, and is ahead of Joe Biden in the polls. No one can any longer ignore the real possibility that in less than a year’s time the occupant of the White House could toss the whole responsibility for keeping Ukraine in the fight against Russia into European laps, whilst insisting that from here on in they see to their own defence. It would therefore hardly be premature if Europeans began to explore how each other views the situation; to make contingency plans; and even to take some precautionary steps. The two key challenges are obvious. The first is how to get more weapons, and especially ammunition and air-defence missiles, to Ukraine. Since Russia’s invasion, Europeans have done better at this than might have been expected – but they have not done as well as the need now demands, and not nearly enough to support Ukraine if the United States withdraws its aid. The EU, and especially the European Commission, have played a prominent role here, providing financial incentives for member states to donate from their own stocks and to expand production facilities. But talk of moving European defence industries onto a war footing has yet to be realised; and although the commission will shortly unveil proposals for an ambitious European defence industrial strategy, this can only succeed if member states evince more enthusiasm for collective action than they have so far shown. Only three months ago France, Germany, Italy, and Spain jointly warned the commission to stay off their turf and respect national “prerogatives” on defence. The second key challenge that Europeans should be facing up to is how they would defend themselves without US backing against a Russia that had – the possibility can no longer be discounted – imposed a humiliating ‘peace’ on Ukraine. The “dormant NATO” plans being proposed by right-wing US think-tanks foresee a wholesale withdrawal of US ground forces from Europe. But Europeans have huge psychological difficulties in bringing themselves to discuss the US as they would any other foreign power, even in situations where their own strategic interests are manifestly different from those of the superpower. NATO’s disastrous involvement in Afghanistan, for instance, would never have dragged on for so many fruitless years had not its European members studiously avoided any collective discussion of a campaign which each saw exclusively through the prism of its own bilateral relations with the US. Compounding these challenges is the fact that there is no institutional setting in which Europeans could confer. Their task is, in effect, to Europeanise NATO’s defence plans, but this can hardly be discussed in NATO. That organisation, after all, is where European militaries gather to be told what to do by Americans, but the current US administration can scarcely be expected to lead a discussion premised on its own defeat in the November presidential election. The EU has neither locus nor credibility in military operational matters. The reality is that, if a strategy for defending Europe without the Americans is to emerge, this can only be on an ‘intergovernmental’ basis – through bilateral and minilateral discussion amongst Europe’s main defence players. At the alliance’s 2022 Madrid summit, NATO doubled down on its strategy of forward defence. Russia’s war on Ukraine has demonstrated that we are in a technological era in which defensive systems have the advantage over the traditional means of attack. Destroying massed Russian armour turned out to be relatively easy; getting Russians out now that they have dug themselves in is the devil’s own job. So in Madrid allies resolved to reinforce NATO’s “enhanced forward presence” – boosting in-place forces in eastern and central Europe. But predictably, Europeans have been happy to leave this largely to the Americans, who reinforced their presence in Europe with an additional 20,000 troops. The challenge for European chiefs of staff and defence planners now is to work out how, if the need arises, to substitute for US in-place forces in the frontline states; what capabilities and defensive infrastructure will be needed to halt any assault at the borders; and how to organise the communications and data networks necessary to form an effective system that ties together disparate sensors and missile, drone, and artillery assets. Such planning is now an urgent requirement, not just as a matter of military preparedness, but for psychological reasons. Europe’s frontline states have long felt their western European allies lack not only US military credibility, but also a serious understanding of the scale of Putin’s threat. Europeans will only hang together under a second Trump presidency if they are ready to trust each other, and specifically if the most vulnerable states see a real prospect of western European states putting many more of their bodies on the line as in-place forces. The last couple of years, in which predominantly eastern European states have agreed to purchase an astonishing $120 billion of weapons from American contractors, suggests a fatal tendency to believe that maybe Trump can be propitiated by such largesse. Fortunately, the return of Donald Tusk as Poland’s prime minister has substantially increased the odds of Europeans hanging together even in a Trump 2.0 scenario. The foreign ministers of France, Germany, and Poland (the Weimar Triangle) have just met to discuss strengthening Europe’s efforts. If, as expected, the British Labour party returns to government later this year, then the United Kingdom would be an obvious addition to this group. Indeed, a necessary one: it is hard to envisage a credible European defence of the continent that did not clutch in Europe’s second nuclear power. Keir Starmer has made clear his ambition to restore defence ties severed by Brexit. There is no time to waste: the prime minister-in-waiting could usefully make an early trip to Paris to initiate conversations with the UK’s closest continental ally.

That there is a miscommunication between Paris and Berlin is something that is already being unreservedly acknowledged even among the power leaders in the two capitals. The rift caused by the war in Ukraine is the arena in which tensions are being played out. But there are underlying factors that have contributed to making this gap a major concern for the European stability. We point out the following: The strategic factor Geography determines strategic choices. Germany has always looked to the East as a pole of concern, but also as a pole of opportunity. The former has almost always outweighed the latter. Wars have historically conditioned coexistence with Rusia, regardless of the political regime that has existed in each historical stage. There is one incontrovertible fact: Germany has never won a war against Russia. On the other hand, when talking about peace, German interests have prevailed. Hence in Berlin (or in Bonn, during the first Cold War) there has always been a tendency towards appeasement towards Moscow. Earlier, Hitler wanted to postpone the inevitable confrontation with Stalin’s Russia with a tactical, not a strategic pact (in 1939), a move to gain time and consolidate his domination of Western Europe. With the victory of the Soviet Union, Germany endured the division of the country for almost half a century, a punishment even more humiliating than the previous ones. The western part prospered, and the eastern part stagnated. However, this underhand triumph did nothing to facilitate the reconciliation. Willy Brandt understood this very well when he launched his ‘Ostpolitik’ (Eastern policy) in the early 1970s. The initiative caused concern in Washington, not so much because it was opposed to a thaw it shared, but because of the risk of losing control of the process. There was also some reluctance in Paris. De Gaulle and his heirs had always maintained an open channel of cooperation with Moscow but were distrustful of German overtures. With the crisis of the Soviet system, Franco-German tensions surfaced again. A united and strong Germany awakened the ghost of three devastating wars for France. The Chancellor at that time, Kohl was Gorbachev’s main supporter and acted as a fundraiser for a Soviet Union that was falling apart at the seams. Germany’s repeated commitment to peace and European integration did not seem to be a sufficient antidote to the vision of an Eastern Europe, ‘germanized’ by the economic weight of the new political and territorial power. Germany’s actions in the Yugoslav wars, initially perceived in Paris as ‘dynamiting’, contributed to increase those fears. After the failure of the democratization trial in the ‘new’ Russia, largely caused by a predatory capitalism encouraged from the West, Germany continued to cultivate very close relations with Moscow to prevent an undesirable drift in the Kremlin. Until the successive crises in Ukraine have brought this strategic project to a halt. In France, there has always been an interest in an autonomous relationship model with Moscow, whether in collaboration with Germany or the United States, but in no way subordinate. Gaullist nationalism has survived, both on the right and on the left. Somehow, the French elites have tried to avoid Paris from playing a secondary role in relations with the Kremlin, whether in cooperation or confrontation. Hence Macron (‘more papist than the Pope: more Gaullist than the General’), will attempt a risky mediation game with Putin after the phantom intervention in Crimea and the more obvious one in the Donbas, in 2014; and eight years later, when the invasion of Ukraine was consumed. There has been much speculation about the true intentions of the French president’s trip to Moscow. Macron is anything but naive. Perhaps it was indeed the inevitable need of the Elysée Palace to leave its mark. Now that any conciliation with Moscow seems distant, Macron takes the lead among the ‘hawks’ and pretends to forget that he once wanted to look like a ‘dove’, by suggesting that, although there is no allied consensus, sending soldiers to Ukraine cannot be ruled out to prevent a Russian military triumph. Of all Macron’s gambits, this has been the most or one of the riskiest. And the one that has provoked the most irritation on the other side of the Rhine [1]. Since February 2022, Germany has buried the various branches of the ‘Ostpolitik’, a task falling to a Social Democratic chancellor, perhaps the most unremarkable and least suited for high-level leadership. Olaf Scholz announced the ‘zeitenwende’ (translatable as “change of era, or time”). Half a century of rapprochement with Russia was called into question. The economic equation (energy raw materials in exchange for machinery and capital goods) in bilateral relations was dissolving under the weight of Western sanctions against Moscow. Moreover, the pacifist post-Hitler Germany committed to a military effort of $100 billion (to start with), aimed rejuvenating, strengthening, and expanding the Germany military apparatus. But in everything there is a limit, or a red line. Germany has not been shy with Putin, despite being the European country most harmed by embargoes, limitations and constraints in the Russian oil and gas consumption. Economic war was accepted as inevitable in Berlin. However, caution has been exercised, particularly in the supply of arms to Ukraine. Nonetheless, Germany is, after the United States, the largest net contributor to Kiev’s arsenals [2]. Let’s not forget that. France has also taken its precautions in pressuring the Kremlin, as has the US, despite the rhetoric and the cold war propaganda prevailing for the past two years. That is why Macron’s latest ‘provocation’ has annoyed Berlin so much. Moreover, as usual in his boasts, the French president added insult to injury by suggesting that Ukraine’s delicate fragility demanded more “courage” and less timidity from the allies [3]. Scholz replied with diplomatic and bureaucratic discretion, without any outbursts, recalling that NATO’s decisions ruled out ‘boots on the ground’ (sending troops to Ukraine). But his Defense Minister, Pistorious, could not resist returning the favor and admonishing him for his new moral lesson. The foreign ministers of both countries attempted to ‘diplomatically’ solve the crisis days later, but did not risk holding a joint press conference in order not to show that the political wound between Berlin and Paris was still open. The leak of a meeting of senior German military commanders, spied on by Russian agents, further clouded the atmosphere [4]. Another element unchanged since the Cold War: Berlin may support the European autonomous defense project, but it has never ceased to consider it as subordinate to NATO. The American nuclear umbrella is untouchable, then and now. And not even an eventual (and only speculative, for now) strategic availability of the French nuclear arsenal is capable of changing that axiom [5]. Political factors Apart from strategic considerations, domestic political factors have also played a role in this latest crisis. Macron faces the European elections with the apprehension of a seemingly inevitable victory of the far-right ‘Rassemblement National’. It was once considered a pro-Russian party and even generously funded by the Kremlin. In recent years, the party’s chairwoman has tried to distance herself from the Kremlin but has not entirely succeeded. And Macron wants to exploit this supposed vulnerability of a woman he has defeated twice in the presidential elections, but who seems destined to occupy the Elysée Palace in 2027 if she achieves successful results in this year’s European elections. In this week’s parliamentary debate on the bilateral security agreement with Kiev, Marine Le Pen ordered an abstention. She made it clear that she supports the Ukraine resistance, so that there would be no doubt about her change of attitude towards Russia. But he saw in the initiative of the President’s party a clear intention for electoral gain. Divisions were evident on the left: rebels and communists voted against, while socialists and ecologists voted in favor, but the latter rejected the suggestion of troops deployment. Scholz also faces a challenge from the far right, with elections this autumn that could consolidate the dominance of the AfD (Alternative for Germany) in the eastern states (Eastern Länder). This party has won over citizens who do not have such negative memories of the GDR, but in its rise, it has also bitten into the social democratic base. The chancellor does not want to appear too hostile to an electorate that does not participate in the anti-Russian discourse. Institutional factors In this Paris – Bonn clash, as in previous ones, the structure of the respective political systems also exerts a disturbing influence. The French political system is presidential; the German one is parliamentary. In France, the President has exclusive and personal authority over foreign policy. He does not even need his own majority (in this case, the minority that supports him) to formulate his international proposals. In Germany, by contrast, the Chancellor has to negotiate foreign policy with the coalition partners, and even on rare occasions when there has been a single-party majority government, the Bundestag has exerted considerable influence. Personal factors Finally, personal style is also not to be dismissed. It is not unusual for the Elysée Palace and the Chancellery to be inhabited by like-minded characters. The French President is conditioned by the aura of a political system that relies on an exalted figure and demands real, but also impactful, leadership. Both being and appearing so. The Chancellor, on the other hand, is a sort of ‘primus inter pares’, no matter how prominent. Therefore, since 1945, the personal stature of German leaders has always been framed in firm structures that prevent hyper-leadership. It is the Chief’s (Fuhrer) chastisement. This limitation (historical and political) is sometimes reinforced by a purely personal style. At present, the gap is perhaps the widest in the last eighty years. A French President who likes to talk and a Chancellor who is perhaps the most discreet since the post-war period. De Gaulle and Adenauer cultivated little personal relationship, but neither intended to. Pompidou and Brandt never got along particularly well, although the German took great care that his growing popularity did not irritate in Paris… until the Guillaume scandal ended his career. Giscard and Schmidt gave their cooperation a technical character, forced by the oil crisis following the wars in the Middle East. Mitterrand and Kohl raised the tone of the bilateral relationship but did not always adjust their personal dynamics. The German was the longest-serving post-war chancellor and so, the most mediatic, but the Frenchman never renounced, on the contrary, the solemnity with which the office was exercised. Merkel played down Sarkozy (and later Hollande), but not to highlight her personal qualities, but to put them at the service of Germany’s undisputed economic leadership in post-Cold War Europe. Macron wanted to put an end to this French ‘inferiority’, with difficulty. It is not clear that he succeeded against a retreating Merkel, but he thinks he has it easier with the unremarkable Scholz. Notes [1] “France-Allemagne, un tándem secoué par l’épreuve de la guerre en Ukraine”. PHILIPPE RICHARD & THOMAS WIEDER. LE MONDE, 9 de marzo. [2] “German Chancellor pledges to boost [ammunition] production for Ukraine”. DER SPIEGEL, 5 de febrero (versión en inglés). [3] “Le débat sur l’envoi de soldats en Ukraine révèle les profondes differences de vision de la guerre parmi les allies”. LE MONDE, 6 de marzo. [4] “Now It’s Germany’s turn to frustrate Allies over Ukraine”. THE NEW YORK TIMES, 4 de marzo. [5] “Dans cette nouvelle ère où l’affrontement a remplacé la cooperation, la question de la dissuasion nucleaire reprend tout son sens”. SYLVIE KAUFFMANN. LE MONDE, 7 de febrero.

The overall picture of the Friday’s large-scale terrorist attack in a Moscow’s suburb is finally acquiring some clarity. The attack on the Crocus City Concert Hall in Moscow’s satellite town of Krasnogorsk was conducted by four men of Central Asian origin, who were heavily armed with automatic rifles and incendiaries. The attackers started shooting when they stormed through the entrance killing unarmed security personnel and then proceeded through the lobby to the music room itself. There were no political statements or demands; as it later turned out, terrorists were not even sufficiently fluent in Russian. No hostages were taken, the goal of the attackers was quite simple—to kill as many people as possible and to inflict as much damage as possible to the concert hall itself. With more than 6.200 unarmed people caught in the building, this task was easy enough. The attackers were shooting at pointblank range, reloading their rifles and throwing incendiary checkers in all directions. After having put the building on fire they departed through the same central entrance and left the scene in a closely parked car. Many people were killed by the shooting, many suffocated by the smoke in condensed rooms and hallways, yet other perished when the glass-and-steel roof of the concert hall finally collapsed. With rescue operations and fire-fighting efforts still under way, the number of deaths was climbing over the weekend going to 137, including small children. More than a hundred and fifty victims remain in hospitals and the odds are that the final death toll will be higher. The attackers tried to escape in the direction of Russia’s border with Ukraine, but their car was intercepted by special forces and all the four men were arrested already in the morning of Saturday. Russia’s President Vladimir Putin declared March 24 a day of national mourning. However, even now, three days later, there are still some essential parts of the story that remain unclear and open to public discussions. The most important question is about who really stands behind the Friday attack. It is hardly possible to imagine that a few terrorists could have acted on their own, without a strong institution or a network behind them. In course of the first interrogations, they actually confessed that they were essentially nothing more than disposable ‘guns for hire’, that is to say that they were paid to do the job. By the way, the offered price was not that huge—slightly more than US$5.000 per person. However, the detained terrorists turned out to be incapable or unwilling to properly identity their alleged employers and customers. One of the most popular versions regarding the latter, which is now in broad circulation in the West, links the terrorist attack to the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS, an organization recognized as terrorist and its activities banned in the Russian Federation). This version is based on the assumption that ISIS or, more specifically, ISIS-K (the Khorasan branch of the Islamic State operating in Afghanistan) has very many reasons to be unhappy with Moscow’s activities in places like Syria, Libya or even with Russia’s cautious support for the Taliban regime in Kabul. In September of 2022, ISIS-K claimed responsibility for the suicide bomber attack of the Russian Embassy in Kabul, which fortunately produced no victims. The terrorist organization demonstrated its operational capabilities in early January of 2024, when two ISIS–K attackers carried out twin suicide bombings in Kerman, Iran, during an event mourning the US assassination of Quds Force leader Qassim Soleimani. This version of who stands behind the atrocious terrorist attack is particularly convenient for the United States and its NATO allies since it points at the Western long-term enemies and rules out any, even hypothetical Western responsibility for the tragedy in Moscow. However, there are some apparent soft spots in this narrative. First, the pattern of the attack in the Crocus City Hall was very different from the ‘standard mode’ of ISIS operations. The Friday attackers were not religious fanatics, suicide bombers, or indoctrinated shooters ready not only to kill, but also do die pursuing their ‘holy mission’. The ultimate and uncompromised ISIS fanaticism has been demonstrated on many occasions, for instance, during a large-scale terrorist attack in Paris on the 13th of November, 2015. But this was not the case in Moscow last Friday—the attackers desperately tried to escape and to save their live. Second, it would be somewhat counterintuitive for ISIS to target Moscow at this particular moment, when Russia has taken a clearly pro-Palestinian position on a very sensitive for everybody in the Moslem world issue of the Israeli military operation in Gaza. It would be more logical to look for targets among the staunch advocates of Benyamin Netanyahu. Even if ISIS decided to stage a terrorist operation in Moscow, they would have probably targeted one of local synagogues, as they have already tried earlier. The alternative version, which is floating around in Russia, is that the real sponsors and instigators of the attack should be looked for in Kyiv. The version implies that since Ukraine is currently losing to Russia on the battlefield and has no opportunities to reverse the course of the conflict in its favor, terrorist attacks remain one of the very few remaining options that are still open for the Ukrainian leadership to make its case in an ‘asymmetrical’ way. This version can be also regarded as self-serving, since it unquestionably destroys the international reputation of Ukraine. Still, it should not be dismissed without consideration. After all, the terrorists tried to escape Russia through the Russian-Ukrainian border and were captured only a hundred miles away from the border. It seems that they should have at least secured some advance arrangements with appropriate partners in Ukraine, who would allow them to enter the Ukrainian territory safely and find shelter on the Ukrainian soil. Moreover, in Russia they consider a ‘Ukrainian involvement’ in the recent terrorist attack to be a logical continuation of what Ukraine has already been doing for a long time. On many occasions, Moscow accused Kyiv of sponsoring and even of directly organizing diverse terrorist activities deep in the Russian territory, including acts of economic sabotage and assassination attempts against prominent politicians, journalists and opinion leaders. The ongoing investigation should help clarifying the issue of the customers and instigators. However, it is clear that even if a Ukrainian trace is finally confirmed and proved by the Russian side, the West will still continue to deny any connections between Kyiv and the terrorist act in Moscow. The odds are that the Western leaders will continue to reject any piece of evidence that the Russian side might bring to the table. If so, the terrorist attack in Moscow will remain an open file for a long time—just like the file of the Nord Stream pipeline explosions in September of 2022. Another important question that remains unanswered is about the warning of the terrorist act that the United States sent to Russia a couple of weeks ago. In Washington they now claim that they did their best having informed Moscow of a high probability of a large-scale terrorist attack on the Russian soil a couple of weeks ago. However, in Russia they argue that the information from Washington was very general, unclear and therefore not really usable. There are thousands and thousands of popular public spaces in Moscow, and if the warning did not contain any reference to specific probable targets, the net value of the warning was limited at best. Moreover, in Moscow they accuse the United States and NATO of assisting Ukraine with planning its own sabotage and reconnaissance operations, including multiple strikes against civilian targets, which are defined in Russia as acts of state terrorism. This indirect polemics between Washington and Moscow raises a bigger question: is an efficient international cooperation in fighting against terrorism possible in the era of intense geopolitical competition? Is there any hope for success, when this competition in itself turns out to be a fertile soil for terrorism? The current trends are not very reassuring. Though the world has not recently witnessed terrorist acts similar to 9/11 events in New York and in Washington, hundreds of civilians died in the massive attacks in Paris and in Madrid, in Bagdad and in Berlin, in Beslan and over Sinai, in Gamboru (Nigeria) and in Mumbai (India), with new names added to this tragic list every so often. Large-scale terrorist attacks are now few and far between in the United States, but there have been more of them in Europe, let alone in the Middle East and in Africa. Why, then, is the goal to wipe out terrorism not achieved so far? In the first place, the international community has failed to agree on a common definition of terrorism’s origins, driving forces and character. What some actors explicitly dub as “terrorist” may look like a national liberation struggle for others. Bring up the issue of terrorism in Kashmir in a conversation with Indians and Pakistani, only to see there can hardly be a common denominator in this matter. Talk to Israelis and to Palestinians on how they define terrorism, and you will find striking differences as well. The United States routinely accused the Islamic Republic of Iran of sponsoring terrorism, but looking from Tehran you are likely to define the above-mentioned US assassination of Genal Qassim Soleimani as an unquestionable act of international terrorism. Throughout history, many self-confident leaders have attempted to draw a line between ‘bad’ terrorism and ‘good’ terrorism, aspiring to manage and to use terrorists as convenient foreign policy tools. However, this arbitrarily drawn line between ‘bad’ and ‘good’ terrorists has always got blurred, and former seemingly obedient and efficient servants have again and again revolted against their short-sighted masters. Second, any success in the fight against terrorism entails a high level of trust between the interacting parties—simply because they would have to exchange a lot of sensitive and confidential information. In today’s world, trust is thin on the ground. An apparent and mounting deficit of this resource is not only present in the relations between Moscow and Washington; it also takes its toll on the relations between Beijing and Tokyo, between Riyadh and Teheran, between Cairo and Addis Ababa, between Bogota and Caracas, and the list goes on. It would be tempting to try to somehow ‘insulate’ the fight against international terrorism, separating it from the overall geopolitical competition. However, it is practically impossible since any international cooperation on terrorism is inextricably linked to the very core dimensions of national security. Third, international terrorism is far from an issue that is set in stone. It is gradually changing and evolving to become more resilient, sophisticated, and cunning. The recent events at the Crocus City Conference Hall is a clear indication of how much damage can be inflicted by a relatively small, but well-armed and well-prepared group of militants. Similar to a dangerous virus, the terrorist threat is mutating, generating ever new strains. Another lesson that we should learn is that the modern highly urbanized and technologically advanced post-modern civilization—be it in Russia, in China, in Europe or in the United States—is extremely vulnerable to terrorist attacks. Rapidly changing and increasingly complex social and economic infrastructure, especially in large metropolitan areas, is an enabling environment for hard-hitting terrorist attacks. Besides, international and civil conflicts—like the one raging in Ukraine—drastically heighten the accessibility of modern arms for would-be terrorists. Such conflicts inevitably generate large numbers of trained fighters with a lot of combat experience, access to sophisticated weapons and, sometimes, with severe mental problems. These fighters are easy prey for recruiters from international terrorist networks, or they turn into dormant ‘lone wolves’, who could go hunting at any moment. One should not dismiss the kind of terrorism bred by anonymous mavericks and amateurs rather than the sort represented by well-known transnational extremist movements—individualists are the hardest to track and neutralize, while plans of amateurs are harder to reveal. The current progress in military technology, coupled with other trends in the contemporary international arena, portend a new spike in terrorist activities in the coming years Add to this a comprehensive setback in the resilience of global economy, which may be fraught with more social tensions and an inevitable rise of pollical radicalism and extremism in a broad range of countries. An obvious foretelling: In this “nutrient broth”, the virus of terrorism, which has not been wholly eradicated, stands all the chances for an “explosive” growth. Taking terrorism off the agenda is only possible if humanity effects a transition to a new level of global governance. It is either that the leading powers are wise and energetic enough for this, or the tax that international terrorism imposes on our common civilization will be progressively higher. First published in Chinese in the Guancha.

HR/VP blog – Defence was at the centre of the last European Union Council. This was the culmination of intense work on EU’s security and defence with the preparation of the European Defence Industrial Strategy and the creation of a new fund to step up our military support to Ukraine. We took stock also of the progress made in implementing the Strategic Compass. Power politics are reshaping our world. With the Russian war of aggression against Ukraine, the war that has flared up again in the Middle East, coups in the Sahel, tensions in Asia… we witness at the same time the return of ‘old’ conventional wars and the emergence of ‘new’, hybrid warfare characterised by cyberattacks and the weaponisation of anything, from trade to migration. This deteriorating geopolitical environment is putting Europe in danger, as I anticipated when presenting the Strategic Compass, the new EU Defence and security strategy, in 2022. Four years ago, when we were facing the COVID-19 pandemic, many said that the EU was living a Hamiltonian moment because we decided to issue a common debt to alleviate the consequences of this crisis as Alexander Hamilton did after the US independence war. We are now probably entering a Demosthenes moment, in reference to the great Greek politician mobilising its fellow Athenian citizens against Macedonian imperialism 2400 years ago: we are finally becoming aware of the many security challenges in our dangerous environment. What are we doing to address these multifaceted threats? The month of March marks two anniversaries: the third of the creation of the European Peace Facility (EPF) and the second of the adoption of the Strategic Compass. These tools have been central to our geopolitical awakening during the last years. It is the right moment to reflect on what has been done and where we are heading on security and defence. Supporting Ukraine militarily in an unprecedented way The European Peace Facility (EPF) is an intergovernmental and extra-budgetary EU fund. It was established in 2021 to allow us to support our partners with military equipment, which was not possible via the EU budget. We started with €5 billion, today the financial ceiling of this fund stands at €17 billion. While it was not originally created for this purpose, the EPF has been the backbone of our military support to Ukraine. So far, we have used € 6.1 billion from the EPF to incentivise the support to Ukraine by EU Member States and, with them, the EU has delivered in total € 31 billion in military equipment to Ukraine since the beginning of the war. And this figure is increasing every day. Thanks to these funds, we sustained our military support to Ukraine. Among other actions, by this summer, we will have trained 60.000 Ukrainian soldiers; we have donated 500.000 artillery shells to Ukraine and by the end of the year it will be more than 1 million. Additionally the European defence industry is also providing to Ukraine 400.000 shells through commercial contracts. The Czech initiative to buy ammunition outside the EU comes in addition to these efforts. However, it is far from being enough and we have to increase both our capacity of production and the financial resources devoted to support Ukraine Last Monday at the Foreign Affairs Council, we have decided to create a new Ukraine Assistance Fund within the EPF, endowed with € 5 billion, to continue supporting Ukraine militarily. I have also proposed last Wednesday to the Council to redirect 90% of the extraordinary revenues from the Russian immobilised assets into the EPF, to increase the financial capacity of the military support for Ukraine. Reinforcing our global security and defence partnerships But the European Peace Facility does not only help Ukraine. So far, we have used it to support 22 partners and organisations. Since 2021, we have allocated close to €1 billion to operations led by the African Union and regional organisations, as well as the armed forces of eight partner countries in Africa. In the Western Balkans, we are supporting regional military cooperation, as well as Bosnia and Herzegovina and North Macedonia. We are also supporting Moldova and Georgia in the Eastern neighbourhood, and Jordan and Lebanon in the Southern Neighbourhood. Since the beginning of my mandate, we have launched nine new missions and operations under our Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP). The last one, Operation ASPIDES in the Red Sea and Gulf region to protect commercial vessels, has been set up in record time. With operations Irini in the Mediterranean, Atalanta near the Horn of Africa and our Coordinated Maritime Presences in the Gulf of Guinea and the Indian Ocean, we are becoming more and more a global maritime security provider. We launched also last year two new civilian missions in Armenia and in the Republic of Moldova. However, our missions in Niger had to be suspended due to the military coup and our military mission in Mali has been put on hold. We are currently reconsidering the form of the support we can offer to our partners in the region: in this context, we have set up last December a new type of civilian-military initiative to help our partner countries in the Gulf of Guinea fight the terrorist threats stemming from the Sahel. We have also reinforced our cooperation with NATO in various key domains such as space, cyber, climate and defence and critical infrastructures. We have broadened and deepened our network of tailored bilateral security and defence partnerships with Norway, Canada, as well as countries in the Eastern neighbourhood (Georgia, Moldova), Africa (South Africa, Rwanda), Indo-Pacific (Japan, Republic of Korea, Australia) and Latin America (Chile, Colombia). The first Security and Defence Schuman Forum in March last year, bringing together security and defence partners from more than 50 countries, was a success. We will build on this when we meet for the next Schuman Forum on 28 and 29 May. Enhancing the capacity to react to crises abroad One of the main deliverables foreseen by the Strategic Compass was the creation of a new EU Rapid Deployment Capacity to be able to quickly react autonomously to crisis situations, for instance to evacuate Europeans in case of an emergency like in Afghanistan in August 2021 or in Sudan in April 2023. It will become operational next year, but to prepare for it, we organised the first ever EU military Live Exercise last October in Cadiz, in Spain. It involved 31 military units, 25 aircrafts, 6 ships and 2,800 personnel form Member States’ armed forces. A second Live Exercise will take place at the end of the year in Germany. A new Crisis Response Centre is also now operational in the EEAS to coordinate EU activities in case of emergencies, including the evacuation of European citizens. We are also strengthening our military and civilian headquarters in Brussels. Investing more in defence together and boosting the EU defence industry At home, we need also to invest much more and help our defence industry to increase its production capacities. There is no other solution if we look at the magnitude of the defence needs for Ukraine but also for our Member States that need to replenish their stocks and acquire new equipment. EU Member States are already spending significantly more on defence with a 40 % increase of defence budget over the last ten years and a € 50 billion jump between 2022 and 2023. However, the € 290 billion EU defence budget in 2023 only represents 1.7% of our GDP under the 2% NATO benchmark. And in the current geopolitical context, this could be seen as a minimum requirement. However, the global amount of our expanses is not the only figure we have to follow carefully. To use our defence expenses efficiently, we have also to take care of filling gaps and avoiding duplications. As I have already said in many occasions, we need to spend more but also better, and better means together. In 2022, the European armies have invested 58 billion in new equipment. For the fourth year in a row, it exceeded the benchmark of 20 % of the defence expenses. However, only 18% of these defence investments are currently done in a collaborative manner, far below the 35% benchmark set by EU Member States themselves in 2007. Since the start of the Russian war of aggression, 78 % of the equipment bought by EU armies came from outside the EU. We are also lagging behind in our investments in Research and Development. That is the reason why I presented earlier this month together with the Commission the first-ever European Defence Industrial Strategy. We need to incentivise much more joint procurement, better secure our security of supplies, anchor the Ukrainian defence industry in Europe and organise a massive industrial ramp-up. We also need to catch up on new military technologies like drones or Artificial Intelligence. With its innovation hub, the European Defence Agency will continue to play a key role in these efforts. To succeed, we will need to ensure much better access to finance for the European defence industry, notably by adapting the European Investment Bank lending policies. We should also foresee issuing common debt to help finance the major necessary investment effort in defence capabilities and defence industry, as we did to face the COVID-19 crisis. However, we have still a lot of work to do to reach an agreement on that subject. Finally, we will also need to reinforce our defence when it comes to hybrid and cyber threats, foreign information manipulation and interference and resilience of our critical infrastructure. As detailed here, a lot has already been done in recent years, however I am very much aware that a lot more remains to be done to match the magnitude of the threats we are facing. We need a leap forward in European defence and European defence industry.

In mid-February, the leader of Moldova’s breakaway region of Transnistria, Vadim Krasnoselsky, summoned deputies “of all levels of the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic”. The purpose of their meeting, he announced, would be to discuss “pressure from the Republic of Moldova that is violating the rights and worsening the socioeconomic situation of Transnistrians”. The meeting was set for February 28, the day before Vladimir Putin’s “state of the union” address. This was taken by some – including the influential Washington-based thinktank the Institute for the Study of War – to signal an intention to announce that Transnistria would formally declare its intention to join Russia. The Transnistrian congress met as planned. But its resolution, while full of praise about Transnistria and complaints about Moldova, fell well short of expectations. In the end, the assembled deputies merely appealed to Russia – as well as the Interparliamentary Assembly of States Parties of the Commonwealth of Independent States, the UN, the EU, the Organization of Security and Co-operation in Europe, and the Red Cross – to protect Transnistria and prevent an escalation of tensions with Moldova. Transnistria declared independence from the Moldovan Soviet Socialist Republic in 1990, as the dissolution of the Soviet Union was gathering pace. A brief violent conflict ended with a Russian-mediated ceasefire in 1992. This ceasefire mandated negotiations on the reintegration of Transnistria into Moldova, which included, among others, Russia and Ukraine. Efforts to agree on a deal proved futile over the following three decades and have completely stalled since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Thus, the Transnistrian region of Moldova has remained in a limbo state for more than 30 years now. Its separate identity is not even recognised by Russia and it remains formally part of Moldova. This limbo state has contributed to fears – in Moldova and the west – that Russia has territorial ambitions in the region. These have worsened since the invasion of Ukraine two years ago. Talk of Kremlin-backed plots to destabilise the country is not uncommon. In the event, the Russian president failed to mention Transnistria even once in his state of the union address the day after deputies had gathered in Transnistria. With the initial “excitement” of a potential crisis around Moldova gone, the predominant view among regional and international analysts was that this was a storm in a tea cup rather than a full-blown crisis. This is also the view of Moldova’s foreign minister, Mihail Popșoi. In an interview with Politico at the beginning of March, a month after taking office, Popșoi said that “the probability that the Russians would be able to advance and reach our territory is much lower now than it was two years ago”. Russian ambitions But this is, at best, only half of the more complex geopolitical context in which Moldova finds itself. Wedged between Ukraine and Romania, a member of Nato, Moldova’s future prospects are heavily intertwined with the outcome of the war against Ukraine. At present there appears to be little chance of Russia expanding its land bridge to Crimea all along the Black Sea coast to the Ukrainian border with Moldova. But that’s not to say that the Kremlin has completely given up on this ambition. Just days after the deputies’ meeting in Transnistria, the Russian foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, complained about Moldovan violations of Transnistria’s rights. He alleged Moldovan discrimination against the Russian language as well as economic pressure on the Russian enclave. This eerily echoes Russian justifications for the invasion of Ukraine both in 2014 and 2022. Transnistria is not the only card Russia is playing. Four days after Lavrov’s comments, Putin met the leader of the Gagauzian region in Moldova, Yevgenia Gutsul, at the so-called World Youth Festival, which was held near the Russian Black Sea resort of Sochi at the beginning of March.    Gutsul – and other powerful Russian allies including the fugitive Moldovan oligarch Ilan Shor, who was convicted of fraud in the “theft of the century” of US$1 billion (£792 million) from three Moldovan banks a decade ago – have been fomenting protests against the Moldovan government since September 2022. These protests reflect many ordinary Molovans’ existential fears over a cost-of-living crisis that has engulfed one of Europe’s poorest countries since the COVID pandemic and has worsened since the Russian aggression against Ukraine. Moldova’s European aspirations At the same time, the Moldovan president, Maia Sandu, has proposed a referendum on joining the European Union. Sandu, who faces a reelection campaign later this year, hope that this will boost her popularity among Moldova’s generally – but not unequivocally – pro-European electorate. Wanting to capitalise on popular discontent with economic conditions in Moldova, Russia has been supporting Shor’s protests and linking the unrest to Sandu’s pro-European foreign policy. Relying on allies in both Gagauzia and Transnistria, Moscow’s aim is primarily the destabilisation of the country ahead of presidential elections at the end of 2024 and parliamentary elections in the spring of 2025. In this context, even non-events such as the resolution passed by the Transnistrian deputies at the end of February are useful to Moscow. They increase uncertainty not only in Moldova but also among the country’s western allies. And this feeds into a broader narrative in which a status quo that has been stable for decades is suddenly questioned – with potentially unpredictable consequences. There is no evidence that the Kremlin has any concrete plans, let alone any capabilities, for military action against Moldova. Nor does it need to, as long as it has local allies to do its bidding against the country’s president and her government. This does not give Moscow a lot of leverage in its war against Ukraine but it is helpful in the broader efforts to weaken support for, and from, the European Union. The more Russia can peddle a narrative that connects European integration with economic decline and constraints on language and cultural rights, the more division it can sow – and not just in Moldova, but potentially also in other EU candidate countries from the western Balkans to the south Caucasus.