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How cyber operations support the state system. ' North Korean units are primarily concentrating on political and economic espionage and the procurement of foreign currency. Disruptive attacks are currently rather unlikely. ' The funds generated are primarily used for the political and economic stabilization of the state and the expansion of nuclear and conventional military capabilities. ' To date, around three to six billion US dollars (excluding unreported cases) have been gained through the use of cyber resources. ' The activities can be countered by detecting and publicizing North Korean procedures as well as reconnaissance of potential target institutions. ' North Korean units act opportunistically and flexibly. It is to be expected that the attacks will continue despite countermeasures. At present, there is no significant threat to Germany. In recent years, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea (DPRK) has increasingly instrumentalized cyber and information space to implement its state policy agenda, exploiting the entire spectrum of possible operational targets: Sabotage and disruption, signaling, political espionage, economic espionage, foreign currency procurement and propaganda. According to Kim Jong-un, cyberattacks function alongside nuclear weapons as an "all-purpose sword" to achieve the regime's goals. Goals and Impact DPRK units have repeatedly launched disruptive attacks to sabotage and disrupt enemy systems in order to force political concessions from South Korea and the US or as an instrument of political signaling: so far unsuccessful. Notable examples in this context were various operations against IT systems in South Korea, such as Operation Dark Seoul1 and Ten Days of Rain, which led to widespread disruption in the country. No comparable activities were observed after 2014; it can be assumed that offensive cyber activities had little impact as a means of coercive diplomacy. It can therefore be assumed that any operations outside of a military scenario will not be carried out by the DPRK for the time being. So far, political espionage has primarily been directed against South Korean civilian and public institutions as well as international organizations and foreign individuals. The aim of the operations is to obtain strategically and security policy-relevant information. In recent years, for example, there has been an attack against eleven UN Security Council members in order to obtain information on sanctions resolutions.2 International think tanks and journalists have also been compromised in order to obtain information on foreign assessments of the DPRK's situation.3 The aforementioned activities continue and are flexibly adapted to the regime's political interests. It cannot be assumed that North Korea will refrain from political espionage. With regard to economically motivated espionage activities, the DPRK carries out operations to generate information on economically relevant sectors. In the past, the main target was international defense companies with the aim of gaining technical information for the development of modern weapons systems, including nuclear weapons.4 However, during the Covid-19 pandemic from 2020 to 2022, the state also attacked vaccine manufacturers abroad to enable the DPRK's self-sufficient vaccine production. Economic espionage is similar to political espionage in its calculations and is geared towards the strategic goals of the state leadership. It is to be expected that the DPRK will carry out more attacks against satellite technology companies in the future in order to underpin recent efforts to produce space-based weapons and reconnaissance systems. Financially motivated attacks to obtain foreign currency have been observed since around 2011. Initially, the actors' approach was primarily aimed at low-threshold targets such as gaming platforms. From 2015, however, there was an increase in the quality and quantity of activities. The DPRK attracted international attention with complex attack campaigns against financial institutions: Compromising the international SWIFT payment system and attacking the ATM payout mechanism, as well as the WannaCry global ransomware campaign.5 The attacks against the financial sector generated approximately two billion US dollars, and the ransomware activities led to the encryption of 230,000 systems in 150 countries. In response to the operations, the DPRK's approach was exposed by internationally cooperating cyber security institutions and appropriate protection mechanisms were provided. As a result, the lucrativeness of the attacks was significantly reduced and the DPRK had to realign its strategy. Since then, attackers have increasingly focused on non-governmental cryptocurrency platforms, which are still proving to be a profitable and preferred target. These platforms often have low security standards and attract less public attention than a bank if they are compromised. As part of the operations, the DPRK hackers gain access to digital bank accounts and transfer the cryptocurrency to a North Korean wallet. The currency is then laundered through various mechanisms and converted into fiat currency. Since 2015, the DPRK has been able to generate an estimated three to six billion US dollars in this way. However, it can be assumed that the number of unreported cases is much higher. In 2020, 1.7 billion US dollars are said to have been gained through malicious attacks. Apart from the use of the WannaCry malware,6 no financially motivated attacks against German targets are known. Motives The DPRK does not have an official cyber doctrine that provides insight into the strategic calculations of the state leadership. However, the regime's motives can be deduced from the political situation of the state, the specifics of cyberspace and the official state goals. Pyongyang sees itself as immanently threatened by the US military presence and alliance with South Korea. This is a key driver for the execution of disruptive attacks. In the event of a military conflict, cyber means can be used as an instrument of asymmetric warfare. In peacetime, cyberspace is used by the regime to carry out attacks against other states without risking escalation with conventional weapons systems. This strategy of "a thousand pinpricks" serves to demonstrate power, generate urgently needed financial resources and legitimize the state leadership in both domestic and foreign policy terms. Due to economic insufficiency, international sanctions and a high demand for imported goods, the North Korean state is dependent on foreign currency to maintain its internal economy, finance luxury goods for the elite and further expand its nuclear and conventional armaments capabilities. The regime has been using clandestine and illegal methods to obtain foreign currency since 1970. In this context, cyberattacks now appear to be the most lucrative instrument for counteracting the economic deficit. On the one hand, this can be attributed to the decline in conventional methods. For example, counterfeit money production, smuggling and modern slavery of North Korean citizens abroad have been intensively combated by the international community.7 In addition, a correlation can be seen between the increased investment in the nuclear weapons program and the rising quantity and quality of cyber operations. Procurement tactics in cyberspace are difficult to prevent due to the opacity and immateriality of the domain. Actors can operate undetected and largely unpunished as well as plausibly deny accusations. Furthermore, the cost-benefit ratio is in the attackers' favor. Active countermeasures (such as hackbacks) against the DPRK are largely ineffective, as North Korea offers hardly any attack surface due to its low level of digitalization. It is suspected that the USA has occasionally disrupted North Korea's attack infrastructure, but without any discernible success. To gain a theoretical insight into the state's motivation, the Songun Doctrine (military first), which has determined the regime's political actions since 2009, is essential. The doctrine prioritizes the nation's readiness to defend itself in the face of perceived threats. State resources are primarily invested in the DPRK's defense apparatus, with the nuclear weapons program at its core. The basic idea behind the Songun Doctrine is the interaction between a strong military and economic prosperity. According to the doctrine, a strong arms industry should generate sufficient financial resources through exports of military equipment and at the same time guarantee the territorial integrity of the state. The country's elites, which also include the cyber units, are officially primarily active in the defense sector. It is therefore in line with the doctrine that the majority of investments and industrial espionage operations serve to promote the military. Organization The organization of the North Korean cyber groups cannot be clearly determined due to various contradictory statements. However, it is known that the cyber units are subordinate to the Korean People's Army, whose commander-in-chief is the "Supreme Leader" Kim Jong-un. The majority of the known actors are said to be based in Bureau 121 of the General Bureau of Reconnaissance (RGB) military intelligence service. The units assigned here include the Lazarus Group, Bluenorrof and Kimsuky.8 It is also possible that parts of the cyber apparatus are subordinate to the Ministry of State Security. Of central importance alongside the RGB is Bureau 39, which is said to be responsible for the conventional generation of financial resources. Due to the common objectives of the organizations, it can be assumed that there is operational cooperation. Recently, a change in the organization and responsibilities of the actors has been observed. While in the past the groupings operated independently of each other, a merging of the units has been evident since 2022. There has been an exchange of responsibilities and instruments between the players, which suggests a changed (division of labor), more efficient and resource-saving cooperation. The training and further education of the units takes place both at universities in the DPRK and in China.9 A key feature of the North Korean cyber organization is the strategic deployment of units disguised as IT specialists abroad. The actors operate from their respective locations, which makes attribution more difficult and reduces state costs. Outlook The North Korean regime will continue to pursue operations in cyberspace in order to achieve state objectives and will probably do so even more in the future. Financially motivated operations and espionage in particular are now an essential instrument of state policy. The fundamental motives are also anchored in the DPRK's doctrinal system. The country's missile and nuclear program requires high levels of investment and technical information. At the same time, the state is increasingly under pressure due to its economic problems. It is therefore difficult to predict how the regime's volatile and impulsive policies will develop in the future. If attacks on digital accounts, crypto marketplaces or digital financial flows continue to prove lucrative, it cannot be assumed that Pyongyang will abandon the procurement of foreign currency through targeted cyber operations. Cooperation between DPRK units and political allies such as Russia, China or Iran has not been observed at times. Inter-state cooperation in cyberspace requires a high degree of coordination and operational integration, which is rather unlikely given the regime's current political interests. The DPRK's activities in cyberspace have not yet posed any particular threat to the Federal Republic of Germany. However, even the slightest erosion of the current tense diplomatic relations between the DPRK, South Korea and the USA could have devastating consequences for the global security situation. In 2019, the United Nations already initiated corresponding steps such as intensified sanctions, public naming and shaming and increased transnational cooperation in order to curb the impact of the attacks and their political effects.10 It is likely that fluctuating cryptocurrency prices or increased platform security measures could counteract the attacks. The security authorities have so far concentrated on the detection and publication of North Korean TTPs (Tactics, Techniques and Procedures). This approach and the wide dissemination of attacker-related information has sometimes proven to be the most effective means of mitigating attacks. However, due to the great importance for state doctrine and finances, it can be assumed that the DPRK will adapt its methods and look for new ways. It is therefore currently important to monitor the approach, strengthen the resilience of the attack targets and prevent the procurement methods in the digital and kinetic space as best as possible with international partners. At present, DPRK actors are only of limited relevance to Germany. Few significant attacks against regional targets have been observed to date. There is currently no indication of a future operational prioritization for Germany. More about this: 1 https://cyber-peace.org/cyberpeace-cyberwar/relevante-cybervorfalle/operation-troy-darkseoul/. 2 Vgl. https://media.defense.gov/2023/Jun/01/2003234055/-1/-1/0/JOINT_CSA_DPRK_SOCIAL_ENGINEERING.PDF. 3 Vgl. https://www.zdnet.com/article/north-korea-has-tried-to-hack-11-officials-of-the-un-security-council/. 4 Ein Beispiel hierfür ist der Angriff gegen einen russischen Produzenten von ballistischen Raketen. 5 In 2017 erfolgte eine massive Ransomwarekampagne unter dem Namen WannaCry, bei der Systeme verschlüsselt und lediglich gegen eine Lösegeldsumme von 300 US-Dollar wieder entschlüsselt wurden. 6 Die sich selbst replizierende Ransomware infizierte 2017 Teile der deutschen IT und richtete merklichen Schaden an. Es ist davon auszugehen, dass die DVRK die Kontrolle über die rapide Distribution verloren hatte und die Angriffe gegen Deutschland Spill-Over-Effekte waren. 7 VN Dokumente: S/2019/691; S/2022/668; S/RES/2397. 8 Lazarus und Bluenoroff sollen für komplexe finanziell motivierte Operationen und Kimsuky für politische und wirtschaftliche Spionage zuständig sein. Zudem wurde Lazarus für unterschiedliche disruptive Angriffe verantwortlich gemacht. 9 Universitäten in China sind u. a. das „Harbin Institute of Technology“. 10 VN Dokumente: S/2019/691 S/2022/668; S/RES/2397. ISBN 978-3-98574-215-8 © 2024 The Author(s). This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. The terms on which this article has been published allow the posting of the Accepted Manuscript in a repository by the author(s) or with their consent.

Nigeria needs a change of direction, not a change of government. With Nigeria plunged into a full-blown crisis due to a worsening economic climate, a cross-section of Nigerians, desperate for a quick turnaround and certain that the Bola Tinubu administration has lost the plot, have started clamoring for a coup d’état. So loud has been the agitation, especially on social media, that Chief of Defense Staff Christopher Musa came out last week to warn those behind it that “the law will come after them,” and that “the armed forces of Nigeria are here to protect democracy.” It is an interesting paradox that the same generation of Nigerians who have consistently put their bodies on the line in defense of democracy are the ones now apparently demanding military intervention. The paradox is resolved as soon as it is realized that though seemingly divergent, both the hunger for democracy and the incipient yearning for khaki rule are united by the same impulse. That impulse is, not to put too fine a point on it, a government that delivers and is the thread that runs through the ongoing ferment in Nigeria and the spectacle in Western and Central Africa where, defying expectation, throngs of young people took to the streets to welcome assorted coupists. Nor is the impulse unique to young people in Africa. If, across Western democracies, the electorate appears to be souring on liberal democracy (“just half of Europeans aged 16-26 believe democracy is the best form of government”), populist appetite for strongman rule has noticeably increased in places like Hungary, the Philippines, El Salvador and, whisper it, among a key segment of the American electorate. While it is true that the Nigerian situation has some local wrinkles—for instance, there is no gainsaying that lingering resentment at the outcome of last year’s presidential election is an important subtext to the current discontent—this does not make it any less illuminating as an illustration of growing popular disenchantment with liberal democracy. Instructively, too, the concern on the streets has reverberated among the political elite, resulting in a trenchant, if misguided, insistence on a return to “African democracy.” Nigerians have good reason to be irate, having seen scant return on their emotional and physical investment in democracy since the inception of the Fourth Republic in 1999. Indeed, one reason the clamor for military rule has grown is precisely because an increasing number of people see no improvement in their material situation, and therefore little justification in defending a regime that, from their standpoint, has only favored a narrow band of elites. For the average Nigerian, the only difference between civilian and military rulers is in their accoutrements. While this diagnosis is beyond dispute, it cannot be emphasized enough that military rule is the wrong prescription, and in the Nigerian case would mark a tragic regression after twenty-five years of civilian rule. The reasons are not far-fetched. In the first place, since the security aspect of the current crisis owes largely to the failure of the armed forces to contain the Boko Haram insurgency and rampant banditry, handing over the reins of political power to an institution that could not even discharge its constitutional duty of protecting the territorial integrity of the country would be tantamount to rewarding failure. If the Nigerian military cannot do even that for which it was trained, how can it be expected to accomplish that for which it lacks the expertise, never mind the temperament? Furthermore, no matter the underlying frustration, the clamor for military intervention ultimately boils down to a refusal to face the arduous task of institution building. Nigeria faces a clear challenge: ensure that budding democratic institutions put down roots, and where such institutions are absent, inaugurate new ones. That this is nonnegotiable can be gleaned from the history of the advanced economies, and military intervention at this crucial moment will only interrupt a social process that the country must have to pass through. The desire for military intervention also calls to mind the fantasy of “developmental dictatorship,” specifically the idea that what will ultimately right the ship in Nigeria and other African countries in a similar position is the intervention of a beneficent dictator who, knocking a few heads together and dispensing with all the inconveniences of the rule of law in the process, puts the country on the path to development and promptly steps aside. In Nigeria, this fantasy—the utopia of “a shirtless (Jerry) Rawlings driving a bulldozer,” as a Nigerian commentator puts it—has always existed cheek-by-jowl with agitation for popular rule, accruing popularity during moments of economic and political stress. It is often forgotten that this Faustian bargain often leaves societies with a lot of dictatorship and very little development. Lastly, the fact that the majority of the people currently championing the return of the military were either too young or had not been born during the last military era in the country points to an all-important generational dimension. The chasm between members of this generation and Nigerians for whom the terror of military rule is eternally fresh is one of the drivers of political division and misunderstanding in the country. For every member of the younger generation legitimately chafing at the lack of progress under successive civilian administrations, there is a member of the older generation, particularly Nigerians in their fifties and sixties, who cannot forget that the first thing military rule will abolish, together with all the other political freedoms that young people have come to take for granted, is the right to protest about how one is governed. While elected representatives may be petitioned or pelted as the case may be, unelected soldiers cannot, since martial law is the exact antithesis of the rule of law. There is no denying that, on the whole, liberal democracy has failed Nigerians, making their sense of grievance understandable. That said, Nigerians cannot afford to cut their nose to spite their face. While the problems besetting the country cannot be solved by a single administration, a democratic government in which people argue, write at the top of their voices, debate, and sometimes throw the odd punch, offers the best prospect. If that system can work elsewhere, there is no reason why it should not work in Nigeria. Of the many desiderata for democratic flourishing, the most vital, and, as it happens the one that is glaringly absent in Nigeria, is a democratic temperament. If the experience of the advanced democracies teaches us anything, it is that this temperament is acquired ever so slowly and starts to burgeon only after a period of patient and deliberate cultivation. Taking the long view, Nigerian intellectuals should step in to educate Nigerians—especially members of the younger generation—about the evils of military rule.

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.

After comments made by the US presidential candidate, Donald Trump, some Europeans are considering the possibility of acquiring nuclear weapons. They should think again. On 10 February, former United States President Donald Trump recounted a conversation with an unnamed European counterpart in which he stated that he “would not protect” them from a possible Russian attack because they failed to allocate two percent of their gross domestic product to defence, and thus fell short of North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) spending targets. Such delinquency would lead Trump to “encourage [Russia] to do whatever the hell they want.” Given Trump is the probable Republican candidate at the election in November, and currently polling ahead of incumbent President Joe Biden, these comments have triggered concern among European leaders, including German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock, Polish Defence Minister Wladyslaw Kosiniak-Kamysz, as well as NATO Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg. These concerns were exacerbated on 9 February when Danish Defence Minister Troels Lund Poulsen warned that Russia might militarily challenge NATO’s mutual defence article within the next three to five years, considering “new knowledge.” Some are now calling for the expedited integration of European defence capabilities to the point of acquiring nuclear weapons. This conversation was initiated by European Union (EU) parliamentary vice president Katarina Barley who perceives a joint nuclear deterrent as part of Europe’s path toward to an eventual joint EU army. Her fellow social democrat, former German foreign minister Sigmar Gabriel concurs, as does German Finance Minister Christian Lindner. However, others – such as chancellor Olaf Scholz, Defence Minister Boris Pistorius, or Marie-Agnes Strack-Zimmermann, who chairs Germany’s parliamentary defence committee – deem a European nuclear option “unrealistic.” According to political scientist Karl-Heinz Kamp, “debate about European nuclear weapons is a very German debate.” Nonetheless, non-Germans have also chimed in, including the chair of the EU Military Committee Robert Brieger – who argues in favour of European nuclear weapons – and Stoltenberg, who opposes them. Until recently, discussion of a European nuclear deterrent was unthinkable. Current debate fluctuates between proposals for joint EU nuclear procurement, merging existing capabilities, and individual European states acquiring nuclear weapons. Indeed, there are many barriers to all of these options, including the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), and the ongoing stationing of American nuclear warheads on European soil. One suggestion might propose that the two existing European nuclear powers, namely the United Kingdom and France, could increase their stockpiles and integrate them into a joint framework. However, this is also unrealistic as the cost of these two powers expanding their stockpile would be exorbitant. For instance, Britain is already projected to spend 34 percent of its military budget on maintaining its existing nuclear arsenal. Moreover, it is unlikely that the UK would participate in an EU nuclear weapons program post-Brexit. European states would do well to consider Australia’s pursuit of nuclear-powered submarines through the AUKUS agreement to inform their own ongoing debate. While these submarines will not carry nuclear warheads, regional powers such as Indonesia did question AUKUS’ legitimacy, considering Australia’s commitment to non-proliferation. Certainly, the outright pursuit of nuclear warheads by the EU would be legitimately challenged in the same way. To acquire nuclear weapons, European states would have to withdraw from the NPT which would, no doubt, undermine the international rules-based order that they wish to preserve. Furthermore, it would be hypocritical of Europe to insist on non-proliferation, for instance toward Iran through the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JPCOA) or other states which might wish to acquire nuclear weapons, such as Saudi Arabia or South Korea, but then become a proliferator itself. This would set a dangerous precedent, potentially perceived as a “go ahead” by other states who wish to acquire nuclear weapons. Similarly, it is questionable whether the US would tolerate nuclear proliferation in Europe. Certainly, the US has the means to prevent the pursuit of nuclear weapons, as seen in 2009 and 2010 when it allegedly employed the Stuxnet computer virus to sabotage Iranian enrichment centrifuges. Even if the US were to abstain from sabotaging European efforts, it would nonetheless constitute a rupture in the transatlantic alliance. That Trump would only be president for four years, were he to return to the White House, it is short-sighted to sacrifice the important postwar alliance structure which has hitherto guaranteed peace in Europe, in favour of a potentially calamitous undertaking. Furthermore, it is questionable whether the EU as a whole, with its slow-moving bureaucracy, could acquire nuclear weapons in a timely manner. This question would likewise apply if individual European states were to pursue independent nuclear capabilities, as none appear in a position to do so with expediency. While current discussions about European nuclear weapons emphasise the need to deter Russia, the reality is that such weapons cannot be acquired overnight. Their acquisition would likely take years, if not decades, and Europe must deter aggressors today. A fruitful caveat of these debates has been the suggestion to integrate European arms procurement. As the second anniversary of Russian’s invasion of Ukraine passes, Armin Papperger, the chief executive of Rheinmetall – one of Europe’s biggest defence contractors – warned that the continent requires at least a decade to be able to defend itself from a sophisticated aggressor. Presently, European governments procure arms individually through their respective national bureaucracies. A more efficient mechanism would be an integrated, EU-wide procurement processes, for instance through the Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO). Ultimately, such procurement integration could pave the way for a joint European defence force. US presidents have rightfully criticised Europe for not abiding by the two percent rule, as President Barack Obama did. However, European states have drastically improved in this regard. While only four NATO states met the two percent target in 2017, today eleven do, and another 18 members are inching closer to it. Next month, EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen plans to present a new European defence industrial strategy that aims to increase defence spending, improve interoperability, and establish joint procurement of conventional arms. This shows that Europe can adapt – when the political will to do so exists. Ultimately, Trump’s comments, and the prospect of his return to the presidency, have triggered an overdue conversation in Europe. While a possible second Trump administration would be comparatively short-lived, Europe must consider how it plans to defend itself without the American nuclear umbrella. On the road toward greater integration, collective defence will be of paramount importance. However, European states, largely embodied by the EU, should shy away from a precarious nuclear option. Rather, its resources should focus on the procurement of conventional arms and ammunition, and not on expensive Cold War era weaponry.

Around 1.5 million Palestinian civilians are currently squeezed into the southern Gaza city of Rafah after repeatedly being forced by Israeli bombardment and ground assaults to evacuate further and further south. The town, which originally had a population of 250,000, is now host to more than half of Gaza’s entire population. They are sheltering in conditions the UN’s top aid official has called “abysmal”, with disease spreading and famine looming. In a military onslaught the International Court of Justice has ruled a plausible case of genocide, Israel has so far killed over 29,000 Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. Now there are increasing fears Israel’s expected ground assault on Rafah could push civilians across the border into Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula. Originally designated as a “safe zone”, Rafah is now being targeted by Israeli airstrikes, as well. Those fleeing the violence have nowhere safe to go. However, Egypt, the only country aside from Israel that has a border with Gaza, has rebuffed pressure to accept Palestinian refugees displaced by Israel. Reports have indicated that Israeli officials have tried to lobby international support to compel Egypt to accept refugees from Gaza. Egyptian President Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, however, has been adamant in refusing to allow humanitarian corridors or the entry of large numbers of Palestinians into Sinai. He has called it a “red line” that, if crossed, would “liquidate the Palestinian cause”. In recent days, the UN’s High Commissioner for Refugees, Filippo Grandi, has validated Egypt’s position. Grandi said displacing Gazans to Egypt would be “catastrophic” for both Egypt and the Palestinians, who, he indicated, would likely not be allowed to return. Why Egypt is opposed to the idea There are a few reasons for Egypt’s opposition. The first is that Egypt does not want to be seen to be facilitating ethnic cleansing through the permanent resettlement of Palestinians outside of Gaza. In October, a leaked document from Israel’s Intelligence Ministry included recommendations to forcibly transfer of Gaza’s population of 2.3 million out of the territory and into tent cities in Egypt’s Sinai Desert. Government ministers Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir have also both openly advocated the expulsion of Palestinians from Gaza to make way for their replacement by Israeli settlers. Further, in January, a conference in Israel calling for this very plan was attended by 11 members of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s cabinet and 15 additional members of parliament. While Netanyahu last month said Israel has “no intention of permanently occupying Gaza”, he hasn’t shut down talk from his ministers about it. When asked about the conference in January, for example, he said everyone was “entitled to their opinions”. Sisi is also conscious of the strong surge of sympathy the Egyptian public has demonstrated for the Palestinians and the support they have shown for his opposition to any displacement of people across the border. This is due to feelings of solidarity with the Palestinian struggle, as well as an awareness of the lessons of history. Recalling 1947-49, when an estimated 750,000 were either expelled or forced to flee their homes by Zionist forces during the war surrounding the creation of the state of Israel, Egypt doesn’t want to be seen to be enabling another Nakba, or “catastrophe”. The total number of refugees created by the Nakba now stands at around 6 million. According to the UN, about a third live in refugee camps, Israel having denied their right to return to their homeland. Significantly, in November, Israel’s minister for agriculture, Avi Dichter, declared: “We are now rolling out the Gaza Nakba,” adding, “Gaza Nakba 2023. That’s how it’ll end.” Egypt’s complicated relationship with Hamas Another key concern for Egypt is its security. If Palestinians were resettled in Sinai, it could make the Egyptian territory a new base from which to launch resistance operations. This could drag Egypt into a military conflict with Israel. In addition, Sisi has only just managed to clamp down on Islamist insurgents in North Sinai in recent years and is presumably concerned that an influx of refugees could be destabilising. Finally, Sisi likely believes Hamas could mount opposition to his regime. After overthrowing President Mohamed Morsi in a military coup in 2013, the Sisi regime cracked down on the Muslim Brotherhood and repressed all dissent. This extended to a demonisation of Hamas, which grew out of the Muslim Brotherhood’s Palestinian branch. Between 2014 and 2016, the Egyptian military bombed and flooded tunnels linking Gaza with Egypt, at the same time as accusing Hamas of colluding with the Muslim Brotherhood against the state. It has also enforced Israel’s blockade of the Gaza Strip. Having said that, the relationship is not straightforwardly antagonistic. Hamas and Egypt have co-operated on counterinsurgency operations against the Islamic State in Sinai. Egypt has also played a role in mediating current and past ceasefire negotiations between Hamas and Israel. However, the latest rounds of negotiations have gone nowhere, leaving Egypt to nervously ramp up its warnings around any Israeli moves on the border. Egypt and Israel have had a peace treaty since 1979, and their relationship has become stronger with Sisi in power. However, Egypt has threatened to suspend the peace treaty if Rafah is invaded. Where does this leave the people of Gaza? Netanyahu has vowed to push ahead with a ground incursion of Rafah in the coming weeks. Concurrently, Egypt has moved to fortify its border and, according to reports and satellite images, begun building a walled buffer zone of about 21 square kilometres in the Sinai. This suggests Egypt is preparing for a potential removal or exodus of Palestinians. While it isn’t entirely clear whether this is being done in co-ordination with Israel or as a “contingency” measure, the zone would condemn Gazans to yet another densely packed open-air prison with dire human rights implications. As much as states like Egypt and Jordan have strengthened their rhetorical opposition to Israel in the past few months, neighbouring Arab countries have done little to seriously pressure Israel to halt its military operations or significantly improve aid access to the Gaza Strip. In fact, Egypt’s intermittent closures of the Rafah crossing have delayed the entry of desperately needed aid into Gaza. There are also reports Egyptian authorities are demanding thousands of dollars in bribes from those desperate to leave via Rafah, deepening a sense of cynicism, despair and, ultimately, abandonment.

The news of the death of Alexei Navalny, a symbol of the political opposition to Vladimir Putin's regime, in a prison 60 kilometers from the Arctic Circle, has shocked Western public opinion, but comes as no surprise. Since coming to power in 2000, Putin has resorted to the physical elimination of his political opponents as a tool to stay in power and terrorize the opposition. First he used it against the oligarchs who enriched themselves during Boris Yeltsin's two presidential terms. Then journalists, such as Anna Politovskaya, who criticized him and reported on the Chechen war, were murdered. Then Boris Nemtsov on the Kremlin bridge in 2015, while numerous other opposition politicians were imprisoned. Since the beginning of the war in Ukraine, several people who opposed the invasion have "committed suicide". Navalny, who had already in 2020 been poisoned with novichok, a chemical nerve agent to whose use only high-ranking government or military officials can have access, had defined Putin's United Russia party as that "of criminals and thieves". He was also the driving force behind the massive anti-regime demonstrations during the winter of 2011-2012 (the largest so far), over alleged electoral fraud in regional elections. The most defiant figure to Putin's regime, Navalny has paid with his life for the one message he insisted on sending to Russians: that they should fight for freedom. Navalny's death is yet another symptom of what is really happening in Putin's Russia. The next presidential elections will be held March 15-17. Putin is certain to win them. The disappearance of the political opposition to the Russian regime has not translated into a mass protest of the population nor - more importantly - into a vote against the government. Boris Nadezdin, baptized by Western journalists as "the candidate for peace" will not be able to run in the elections because the Russian Supreme Court has upheld the decision, taken by the Central Electoral Commission, to invalidate 100,000 signatures endorsing his candidacy, under the generic pretext of "irregularities". Nadezdin advocates an immediate truce and a transition to peace negotiations in trilateral format involving Russia, Ukraine and the West. According to him, the decision on the fate of the territories annexed by Russia should be based on the will of the people who lived there before the conflict. The war in Ukraine, now entering its third year, is the cause of the breakdown of relations between Russia and the West and Russia's growing dependence on the "axis of the sanctioned" (North Korea, Iran and China). Ukraine is losing on the battlefield due to lack of ammunition and war fatigue affecting both its own population and its allies. The prospect of Donald Trump's victory in November this year further darkens its future, as NATO countries will not be able to overcome an eventual suspension of U.S. military aid to Ukraine, as the alliance's secretary general has warned. The war is turning into a competition between the Western and Russian military industries. If Europe does not wake up, Ukraine and its allies will lose everything that Kiev has so far gained, thus fulfilling Russia's goal of turning its neighboring country into a failed state. The Western allies had managed to provide Ukraine with significant political, military and economic support during the two years of war. However, it is not so clear that they are prepared for a long war nor for the containment and deterrence of Russia, although it is well known that investing in deterrence is always cheaper than investing in open warfare. Navalny's death, Putin's electoral victory and the long duration of the war in Ukraine are the fateful triangle that the Kremlin now opposes to the West, a triangle strengthened by the shameful silence of the majority of the Russian population, a silence that is a consequence of the tyranny and information manipulation carried out by the regime, but also of its political apathy.

President Vladimir Putin's promise to restore order in Russia following the Wagner mercenaries mutiny has been fulfilled. In just a few months, Yevgeny Prigozhin had been sidelined. The Kremlin regained control of the private security market to ensure that previous experiences – "clumsy", in Putin's words[1] – will not be repeated. The official line is now well-established. It claims that the issue of private military companies (PMCs) has never existed in Russia because these activities have never been legally regulated. And it implies that transparency is back and that Russian diplomacy's foreign operations on the African continent and in the Arab world are unconcealed. Since the 2010s, Russian private military companies have worked with regimes that came to power through armed insurrection (Central Republic of Africa, Niger, Mali) and have intervened in the Middle East, particularly in Syria. Mercenaryism has been an unresolved issue in Russia for almost a decade. The option of following the American model was rejected: it would not have been in keeping with Moscow's tradition to expose state security to the laws of the free market. Since the time of the Tsars, it has been accepted that any question of national security should be dealt with at the highest level in the Kremlin and nowhere else. When the Wagner company was established in 2014, the authorities did not interfere because of the relationship of trust that existed between President Putin and Prigozhin. The approach may have been illegal, but it had the merit of being realistic. The Russian army needs men. The days of Soviet-era overstaffing are over, and the security apparatus needs to be strengthened with manpower. The country also needs courage. Wagner has shown that far from bureaucratic red tape, a simple company of mercenaries can accompany Russian diplomacy in the Middle East and Africa, helping to increase its strategic depth. President Putin followed the Wagnerian dynamic by signing a decree [N°370-17.07.15] authorizing the creation of a mobilization reserve for his armed forces a year later. The BARS (Special Army Combat Reserve)[2] are nothing more than the reserve units that exist throughout the world. This would have been the end of the story, were it not for the fact that there is a grey area in this project, at least one that is specific to Russia. The BARS are not just battalions. Some have the financial backing of major Russian companies. Transneft, a wealthy oil pipeline construction and management company,[3] is the financial backer of the BARS-20 battalion, commanded by Sergei Dedov. Employees of the company, particularly security guards, were offered the chance to join the battalion as "volunteers" rather than "mercenaries" in return for a pay rise. Some were sent to fight in Ukraine. The exact number of deaths is unknown, but memorial videos are available on social networks.[4] The confusion was compounded when it emerged that the list of reserve units included private military companies (PMCs) such as Olkhone and Troie, which are legally banned but still listed for military intervention if necessary. A plan to legalize security companies was mooted in 2018 to address this discrepancy but was quickly rejected. Although the Kremlin made no official statement, it can be assumed that it wanted to retain control over these unregulated and highly lucrative activities – the Russian security market is worth billions of dollars[5] – while taking advantage of the operational ease of ambiguity. Legalization would have led to restrictions that would have hindered the operational flexibility needed in "grey" operations. Russia officially has 27 private military companies.[6] After the disappearance of Wagner's boss in a plane crash in June 2023, Moscow decided that all players in the security market, without exception or privilege, must register with the Ministry of Defense. As of 1 July, they must keep detailed records of their activities, as well as an inventory of their personnel and equipment.[7] Mercenaryism remains formally banned, unless the "volunteers" are part of a Russian army operation (Ukraine, Syria) or the men operate in close coordination with Kremlin’s diplomacy. In the event of a breach, security companies are liable to a fine and risk being dissolved. To show the public that nothing will be the same after the Wagner affair, Moscow launched a communications operation with the Chechen militia Akhmat, which has gone to the Defense Ministry to declare its activities. The Kremlin wants to send the message of a return to normality. Official semantics now speak of "volunteer units" rather than "mercenaries."[8] It trivializes the phenomenon by providing aid and support to "volunteers" deployed in foreign theaters. The Defenders of the Fatherland Foundation, headed by Anna Tsivileva and apparently set up under the aegis of the Russian Ministry of Defense, provides administrative and human support to soldiers returning from the front. Their injuries are considered and they are now receiving appropriate follow-up care. The Russian PMCs still exist, but they have fallen into line. State of Play The new map of Russian military companies is organized around an entity called Redut-Antiterror, also known as "R Centre" or "Redut." Its name is no coincidence. It refers to the Patriotic War of 1812, when the Russians halted the advance of Napoleon's armies using fortifications known as “redoubts.” These redoubts contributed to the defense of Moscow. At the outset, Redut was to be a security company like any other, no more and no less than a competitor to Wagner, which dominated the security market at the time. Redut was founded by billionaire Gennady Timchenko in 2006 or 2008, depending on the source,[9] a time when the fate of mercenary companies was being played out in Moscow's chic restaurants, at the tables of retired military officers, businessmen with links to the oligarchs and influential personalities who were able to obtain tacit approval from the Kremlin to carry out such activities. At first sight, Redut is nothing special. It's a simple PMC (private military companies). Its first employees were former soldiers from the 106th Airborne Division, the 56th Airborne Battalion, the 2nd Special Forces Brigade of the GRU (military intelligence) and the 173rd Special Forces. These are classic, experienced profiles often used to screen recruits. Redut recruits Russian citizens aged between 21 and 50, and the jobs on offer are varied: reconnaissance officers, Vasilek mortar gunners, snipers, medical instructors, logisticians, drivers, etc. Salaries vary between $1,300 and $1,900 per month when the mercenary works in Russia and can reach $5,000 in foreign operations.[10] Although this is slightly higher than what Wagner charges, it can be considered normal for this type of work. Redut is based in Kubinka, near Moscow, next to the 45th Brigade of the Russian Armed Forces. This is where the mercenaries train. But on closer examination, Redut is not a PMC like the others. It defines itself as a "military-professional union." This may seem like an odd name, as it brings together two antinomic words, "military" and "union." But that's exactly what it is. At the very beginning, when Redut was founded, the idea was to create a collaborative organization that would unite Russia's PMCs in the same way that a trade union is a point of convergence for different companies. It was understood that each PMC would retain its autonomy, staff, hierarchy, and funding. By joining Redut, they agreed to work together on an ad hoc basis, pooling their human and material resources to carry out specific tasks. When the mission is over, everyone goes back to their own barracks. In the 2010s, this idea met with mixed success. At the time, Wagner dominated the security market thanks to generous subsidies. Prigozhin was in such a position of superiority that he didn't see the point of such an initiative. The fall of the Wagner empire brought the concept back into the limelight. The Kremlin has seen fit to promote the organizational model. It has three advantages: a) PMCs become allies in winning contracts rather than competitors; b) the risk of one company establishing a dominant position is virtually eliminated; c) the authorities simplify their chain of command. Should the Kremlin issue a request, for example, to recruit X new volunteers for the operation in Ukraine, it asks Redut, and they will come from the various Russian PMCs that have applied for the operation. A team of investigative journalists has uncovered this highly unusual organization, reminiscent of the "operations rooms" of armed groups in the Middle East. At the heart of the organization is Redut. Around Redut, the PMCs come and go. [11] They are classified by geographical origin, name, or company affiliation. This is a hodgepodge of disparate groups such as the Siberian Brigade, groups from the Don (Aksai Battalion), formations from the Union of Donbass Volunteers, Gazprom PMCs, and other small, virtually unknown groups such as the Borz Squad or the Imperial Legion. In the Field When a mercenary leaves his original PMC to join Redut, the "Military-Professional Union," he joins new units, which have common names: Ilimovtsy, Hooligans, Wolves, Marines, Axes.[12] The system is deliberately flexible and malleable, and therefore very opaque. It's hard to know who is who, who is fighting for what, who is operating under what identity. The administrative procedures are not clear either. Sometimes a mercenary who signs up to fight in Redut signs a contract on a sheet of paper bearing the abbreviation "RLSPI," the initials of the Laboratoire Régional de Recherches Sociales et Psychologiques. According to the investigative website Idel.Realities, the name is a cover for the secret activities of Unit 35555, which is linked to Russian military intelligence.[13] This labyrinth of truth and untruth, approximation, and mystery are parts of the Redut system. Some of the PMCs involved in the system are easily identifiable. This is the case of the Russian fossil fuel giant Gazprom, a strategic company that, in February 2023, created a private military company called Gazprom PMC, officially to protect its industrial infrastructure in Russia and abroad.[14] The details of the financial package are interesting. The main shareholders are PJSC Gazprom Neft (70% of the capital) and the private security company STAF-CENTER (30%), a company co-founded by former KGB officers Andrey Kuratov, Andrey Timofeev, and Andrey Gavrilov. Other PMCs are little known because they have only recently been created, such as the "Russian Volunteer Corps," which was created in Mariupol in February 2023.[15] This unit brings together fighters who support Russia's attack on Ukraine. There is also Convoy, founded in Crimea by Sergei Aksenov, which also fights to defend Russian interests. In the past, the life of a mercenary was a jealously guarded secret. Today, thanks to social networks, it is possible to find out about the daily life of these men, who belong to the most modest and certainly the most confidential of all private military companies. The Convoy Telegram channel describes the daily life of these men on the front line in Ukraine. Here are a few examples: 13.10.2022 A mercenary shoots a video presenting his kit bag. VIDEO. 14.10.2023 "Our fighters inflicted fire damage on the personnel and equipment of the 126th Armed Forces Defense Brigade in the Berislav region." 22.10.2023 An anonymous mercenary's birthday is celebrated with a photo. 25.10.2023 "Our fighters also struck exposed concentrations of enemy personnel in the areas of Aleshkinsky Island and the small railway bridge over the Dnieper. Enemy drones were shot down by Russian air defenses in the Peschanovka area. Over the past 24 hours, more than 110 shells have been fired by Ukrainian forces along the left bank of the Kherson region." To get a better idea of the profile of this type of mercenary, to "humanize" the fate of those men who decide one day to take up arms, it is worth taking a look at the case of "Shaman," alias David Honda, born in Khakassia, one of many mercenaries. His story reflects this new generation of Russian mercenaries.[16] When he applied to join Redut, he lied. David Honda claimed to have graduated from the Krasnoyarsk branch of the Higher Police School in 2004, but there was no such school that year. He explained that his non-Russian-sounding surname was given to him by the French Foreign Legion, where he claimed to have served. There is no indication that this information has been verified. Honda went to fight in Syria. He was sent to the outpost of the 23944 military unit in Khmeimim. This base is the nerve center of the Russian operation, commanded at the time by Colonel-General Alexander Zhuravlev. In 2019, the end of the Islamic State group's territorialization was accompanied by a reorganization of its spheres of influence, and there was much fighting. David Honda was killed in unknown circumstances on 15 June 2019, aged 42. A few weeks later, his body was returned to his family in a zinc coffin, accompanied by a certificate stating, "cerebral hemorrhage due to a fragmentation explosion." The document was signed by Syrian forensic doctors, Brigadier General Ghassan Ali Darwish and Brigadier General Shafik Abas, head of the Zaghi Azraq rehabilitation hospital. A Mysterious Commander While it is very clear that Redut operates under the authority of the Russian presidency and the Ministry of Defense, there are still doubts about the company's direction. Since August 2023, Russian sources have claimed that Andrey Troshev, a retired colonel and former executive director of Wagner PMC, has joined Redut's management team.[17] This choice, which has not been denied by Moscow, seems credible. The officer is no stranger. A veteran of the wars in Afghanistan and Chechnya, Troshev is a graduate of the military artillery school in Leningrad. He left the army in 2012 to join Prigozhin's team. He was decorated with the “Hero of Russia,” the country's highest award. If confirmed, the appointment would be a shrewd move. It would weaken the current management of Wagner, who no longer has the scent of Putin's sanctity about it, and would strengthen the management skills of Redut, who is now the Kremlin's point man on "volunteer" or "mercenary" issues, depending on your point of view. What is certain is that Vladimir Putin and Andrey Troshev know each other, as newsreels and photographs taken in the Kremlin during an official ceremony confirm. Wagner's setbacks did not interrupt the meetings. On 29 September 2023, Troshev was officially hosted at the presidential palace. Putin gave him a mission: "You will be responsible for training volunteer battalions capable of carrying out various combat missions, especially in the area of the 'special military operation' [in Ukraine]." According to Dmitri Polyansky, Russia's permanent representative to the UN, Redut receives no state support.[18] The statement is very clear about there being no direct or indirect link. However, several sources indicate the opposite. In July 2022, a recruiter with the call sign "Kibarda" working at the Trigulyai (Tambov) training center stated that "Redut is a company of the Main Intelligence Directorate."[19] The usually well-informed Russian researcher Anton Mardasov has obtained information that tends to confirm the existence of organic links between Russian military intelligence and Redut. An investigative article by the Warbook journalism platform agrees. It argues that Redut is "fully controlled by the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces."[20] There is every reason to believe that the Kremlin has reorganized the private military sector based on cold analysis: Wagner was not all doom and gloom. The break came not from mercenary activities but from a leadership position that the iconoclast Prigozhin was intoxicated by. Like any intelligence officer, President Putin had his "return from experience." Ultimately, the Wagner case had the merit of being a caricature that showed the Kremlin what it had to give up and what it had to keep being in a position to make the best possible contribution to Russian influence. The man responsible for transferring the contracts between Wagner and Redut is the Deputy Defense Minister, Yunusbek Yevkurov.[21] This summer he travelled to Libya and sub-Saharan Africa (Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso) to persuade the regimes to cancel their original security contracts and turn to Redut. The aim is to achieve a gradual and smooth transition. The regimes visited are fragile, either in a situation of latent civil war or victims of recurrent armed uprisings. Russian diplomacy must be tactful; otherwise, China's PMCs, which are as discreet as they are ambitious, will take advantage of Russia's retreat to gain new market share. Above all, Moscow does not want to give up Wagner's business network in Africa, where security has become more lucrative as the UN and Western forces have reduced their military footprint. When the Wagner empire was at its height, it had 5,000 men in Africa. Business was booming. Estimates put revenues from its mining empire at US$250 million between 2018 and 2020.[22] The company has developed a sprawling presence in every lucrative sector of the economy. In addition to mining and security, Wagner has used its address book to open unexpected markets. In 2021, for example, a company linked to Prigozhin's interests was awarded a lucrative logging concession in the Central African Republic (CAR). The company, Bois Rouge, was granted the right to exploit 186,000 hectares of forest that is home to protected species.[23] Since then, Central African timber exports to the EU have increased by 62 percent, to 11 million euro.[24] The most important country for Russia in the Middle East is Syria, where Wagner's men have long been present. According to Russian sources, Moscow offered Bashar al-Assad's regime to write off its debt to Wagner if it agreed to trust Redut and use its security services. In the absence of an authentic source, it is impossible for now to know whether Damascus responded positively or negatively. But Redut has real arguments for making its voice heard in Damascus and winning back contracts. It knows the Syrian theater, where it was identified in 2019. Its mercenaries have secured the Stroytransgaz gas installations.[25] Since the regime owes its survival to the Russian intervention in 2015, it would have no interest in persisting in working with a now disgraced PMC. The pressure is on the shoulders of Wagner's new directors as they try to preserve all or part of the company's heritage. Yevgeny Prigozhin's son Pavel is working with security chief Mikhail Vatanin to keep the group going, but it's not easy. There is a real possibility that the group will disintegrate. In addition to the loss of valuable officers such as Andrey Troshev, who was recruited by Redut to lead the group, mercenaries are leaving the PMC. Men from the 1st Assault Battalion have reportedly already signed so-called resubordinating contracts to join the Federal Service of National Guards of the Russian Federation (Rosgvardiya).[26] The problem of the viability of Wagner's mercenary activities may eventually be resolved. His overall business volume has already taken a hit. In 2022, his revenues fell from US$25 million to US$6.7 million.[27] Although its laws prohibit mercenaryism, Moscow hopes that the Redut "volunteers" will eventually establish themselves as trusted interlocutors of the Kremlin, without fear of mutiny, including in African and Arab countries where Russia has influence. The idea is to trivialize the phenomenon of auxiliary forces, mercenaries or not, so that they become part of the norm. The Russian press has finally gotten used to this new focus. The very official – and once feared – Pravda reports on it daily. The information is presented not as scoops but as banal events: "Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu's private military company (PMC) Patriot, in competition with Yevgeny Prigozhin's PMC Wagner, has been spotted near Vuhledar in the Donetsk region."[28] For its part, the tabloid press is supporting the movement by announcing the creation of the Borz battalion by Redut, for example. Its only distinguishing feature is that it recruits women for combat roles such as snipers, drone operators and so on.[29] Conclusion The reorganization of the security sector seems to have been inspired by an old Russian proverb: "In a united herd, there is no need to fear the wolf." Vladimir Putin has closed the ranks of the PMCs to maintain full use of the famous "grey zone" that states are so fond of using for parallel diplomacy. Thus, when the Deputy Defense Minister, Yunusbek Yevkurov, visited Libya this summer, he added to the Redut dossier the fate of the ports of Benghazi and Tobruk, where the Russian navy intends to make technical stops with the aim to prevent the Turks from taking eastern Libya's maritime infrastructure. The idea is to play down the "shadow soldiers" issue, to strip it of its fictional substance, to give it a simple transactional value, so that Redut is no more and no less than an additional package line that Moscow is offering its partner countries.   REFERENCES [1] “Putin said that there are no PMCs in Russia,” RIA (ru.), October 5, 2023. [2] "Why is former Wagner PMC chief of staff Troshev known and why did Putin meet him?” Crimea.Realii (Ukr), September 30, 2023, https://rb.gy/gidk8r [4] Video on the Russian social network VK, https://rb.gy/knlnlw [6] “Catalog of Russian PMCs: 37 private military companies of the Russian Federation,” Molfar, 2023, https://cutt.ly/EwYV99sc [8] “Private military companies required to sign contracts with the defense ministry,” Asia Plus, June 12, 2023, https://cutt.ly/uwYBoVEM [10] “'La Redoute' to replace 'Wagner': what do we know about this PMC and its leader?,” The Ftimes (Ru), September 5, 2023, https://bit.ly/4aHELf2. [13] “Who's Who Among Russia's Mercenary Companies,” RFE/RL's Idel.Realities, May 23, 2023. [14] “Russian Gazprom creates its own PMC - intelligence,” Pravda (Ru), February 7, 2023, https://t.me/wargonzo [16] “Without “Shield” - Service and death in another private military company, which does not officially exist in Russia,” Novaya Gazeta (Ru), July 29, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqaDZUdAN4c [18] Svetlana Kazimirova, “Which company will replace the Wagnerians in the Northern Military Region: what is Redut PMC, what does it do, when did it appear and who runs it?,” Vesiskitim (Ru), September 5, 2023, https://www.currenttime.tv/a/redut-zk-systema/32632359.html [21] “Haftar discusses situation in Libya with Russian defence command. Discussions focused on the future of 'Wagner',” CNN (Ar) September 27, 2023, https://foreignpolicy.com/2023/06/28/will-wagner-stay-in-africa/ [23] “Prigozhin structures received 200,000 hectares of forest in Africa,” Activatica (Ru), July 22, 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NC-8-xDtKoU. [27] “Wagner fractures in Syria, Libya amid conflict with Russia's Defense Ministry,” Al Monitor, October 1, 2023, https://www.pravda.com.ua/rus/news/2022/12/28/7382706/. [29] Anastasia Korotkova, "Created for much more than soups and children." Russian women began to be recruited into combat specialities to take part in the war,” Storage Googleapis, October 23, 2023,

The Australian government asserts that China’s military buildup is the largest of any country in post-war history. Their threat perception is overblown. The Australian government claims that China has made the biggest military buildup of any country since 1945. The statement is contained in the 2023 Strategic Review: “China’s military build-up is now the largest and most ambitious of any country since the end of the Second World War.” The claim has been repeated in several media interviews by the Defence Minister Richard Marles in Australia and overseas. Such claims are hard to pin down since analysing them throws up different possible methods for assessing a buildup, let alone its ambition. Nevertheless, on the basis of a normal interpretation of “biggest military buildup” since 1945, the dubious honour falls to the USSR in the 23-year period from 1962 (the Cuban missile crisis) to 1985 when it was engaged in global confrontation with the United States and military confrontation with China on their mutual border. If we compare the surge we saw in the USSR in that 23-year period with the surge in China’s buildup in a similar time span, between 2000-2023, the conclusion is stark. China’s build up is not only smaller in terms of comparative growth rates in key categories of military capability (nuclear warheads, intercontinental missiles, submarines, and principal surface combatants), but the end point in numbers arrived by China at the end of its 23-year buildup are far smaller than those achieved by the USSR in 1985. For example, the USSR had 40,000 nuclear warheads in 1985 and China in 2023 has only 500. The USSR in 1985 had ten times the number of intercontinental and sea-launched nuclear ballistic missiles as China does today. China is currently engaged in a modernisation and likely expansion of its forces in coming years, but the comparison over 23 years between China (2002-2025) and the Soviet period (1962-1985) would not change significantly. For the time being, however, the claim by the Australian government would not appear to be borne out by the facts. There is another contender to join the ranks ahead of China in the record for the biggest military buildup since 1945, and that is the United States in the 23 years from 1949 to 1972. This period began just after the start of the Cold War in 1948, the signing of the North Atlantic Treaty in 1949, and the victory of Communist Forces in the Chinese Civil War in the same year. In that period, the US fought two major local wars: in Korea and in Vietnam. The end point of this period is marked by détente between the US and both the USSR and China, and the US-Soviet strategic arms limitation agreements. Table 1 below offers a comparison of numbers for selected categories of military platforms and for nuclear warheads at the end point of the three different buildups over the selected 23-year periods. The data shows that China cannot claim to have the biggest military buildup since 1945, and that it sits well behind the USSR and the US in that effort. Table 1: Platform numbers at the end-point of the buildup US 1972, USSR 1985, CHINA 2023. Source*     US 1972 USSR 1985 PRC 2023 ICBM 1,000 1,396 350 SLBM  656 983 72 N-Warheads  26,516 ~40,000 ~500 Strategic Submarines (SSB or SSBN)  41 70 6 Attack Submarines (SSK and SSN)  94 206 53 Aircraft Carriers  17 3 2 Principal Surface Combatants  242 280 97 Bomber ACFT  455 847 500 Tactical Combat ACFT  7,560 6,300 2,394 Tanks  9,434 52,600 4,200 Artillery  6,318 39,000 7,600   The government’s intent in using the phrase “biggest military buildup” in connection with China is to imply it is the biggest military or strategic threat that Australia and its allies have faced since 1945. This implication is reinforced by the equally questionable claim by the prime minister and many officials over several years that Australia faces its most challenging strategic environment since 1945. This proposition is as easily contradicted by the facts as the claim about biggest military buildup, as analysed in my critique in the journal of the International Institute of Strategic Studies, under the title, “Australia’s Drums of War” published in 2021. China poses clear threats to Australian strategic and military interests, but the pace and scale of its military buildup have only been modest compared with the two historical examples cited. The categories selected for Table 1 relate primarily to China’s capability to project power well beyond its coastal areas and beyond Taiwan. That set of categories used is one often seen in comparisons of national military capabilities in the broad. In contrast, there are categories of platforms where the buildup has been more rapid and consequential, such as in dual-use (conventional or nuclear) intermediate range ballistic missiles (IRBM) and smaller ships (corvettes) and patrol craft. Yet these capabilities relate almost entirely to coastal areas or near sea areas, especially for localised contingencies involving Taiwan and/or Japan. The rapid expansion of these lighter and smaller maritime forces and the large number of IRBMs for localised contingencies is what Australia and its allies need to address. In particular, the expansion of the number of smaller patrol craft would be a particularly powerful enabler for unconventional scenarios of strategic pressure by China on Taiwan. It is doubtful that the exaggeration of China’s general military buildup is helpful in achieving that focus. China has good options for irregular operations and subversion against Taiwan that it will almost certainly take before risking a major military confrontation with the US and its allies. *Data is not fully consistent in different sources. For China, the data in Table 1 is based on the US Dept of Defence, “Military and Security Developments in the People’s Republic of China,” October, 2023. Data for the USSR is based on Department of Defense, “Soviet Military Power 1986,” 1986. Data for the US is based on several official US documents. These include ‘The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Military Policy 1969-72,” 2013; Naval History and Heritage Command, “US Ship Force Levels 1886-Present,” undated; US Dept of State, “Transparency in the US Nuclear Weapons Stockpile,” undated; and Congressional Research Service, “US/Soviet Military Balance Statistical Trends’ 1970-1980,” October 1981. The author has also consulted IISS, “The Military Balance 1973,” 1973. Note that the census date for these various sources is not always clear but the author has assumed them to refer to platform holdings during the year indicated in Table 1 even if the publication date is the year following.

The three Baltic states jointly announced on Jan. 19, 2024, their intention to build a defensive line along their borders with Russia and Belarus. Initial details are scarce. The defensive line will not include coastal defenses — Baltic coasts will be defended against the Russian Baltic Sea Fleet in other ways, such as anti-ship missile capabilities and sea mines. Estonia, which divulged the greatest amount of detail, estimated that it would build 600 bunkers, together with support points and distribution lines, for a cost of €60 million starting in 2025. There are no plans to place mines, barbed wire, or dragon’s teeth (anti-tank defenses) during peacetime, although the necessary supplies are anticipated to be held in local reserve for quick deployment if and when necessary. At the very least, Estonia also anticipates some difficulties in situating bunkers on private land near the border, which will take time and negotiation with potentially thousands of landowners to resolve. A Baltic defensive line is a huge project. It is worth reflecting on its origins, challenges, and operational-strategic implications. The Baltic ministers of defense identified two primary points of origin for such a defensive line. First is NATO’s communiqué from the 2023 Madrid Summit, which confirmed that the alliance would fight for every meter of its ground. The proposed defensive line reflects a Baltic intention to take this pledge seriously. Second, the Baltic defense ministers also pointed to their lack of substantial geographical depth. The Baltic states believe that they cannot give up ground, which means recognizing that they need to be prepared to contest a Russian invasion from the first moments following the violation of Baltic borders. An obvious third point may also be added: In the face of Russian genocidal atrocities in Ukraine, Baltic governments cannot be seen to be abandoning their populations to the Russians, nor do they want to do so. In Ukraine, the Russians have committed multiple known mass murders (such as at Bucha and Izyum), they have kidnapped children and fast-tracked their adoption and citizenship in Russia, and they are already settling new colonizers on occupied land, especially in the cities. Any one of these is fundamentally unacceptable, and Russia is actively pursuing all three. For the Baltic states, giving up land means giving up people — especially for Estonia and Lithuania, which have substantial population centers on or not far from the border, such as Narva and Vilnius. In this specific regard, Latvia is slightly better placed as its easternmost province of Latgale is also one of the most sparsely populated, with an overall population density of 46 per square mile. Challenges for the defensive line are substantial. First are the lengths of each national border. Estonia’s hostile border is the shortest at 183 miles, most of which is covered by Lakes Peipus and Pihkva or strengthened by the Narva River. Latvia’s borders with Russia and Belarus are 133 and 107 miles, respectively, bereft of natural boundaries. Lithuania’s borders are the longest, reaching nearly 422 miles with Belarus and nearly 171 miles with Russia’s Kaliningrad oblast. These are substantial distances. Estonia’s planned 600 bunkers, likely to be concentrated on the 129 miles of border north and south of Lake Peipus, suggest a density of four to five bunkers per linear mile — yet defensive lines are not simply built linearly but also in depth. Nonetheless, Latvia would need to build 1,116 bunkers and Lithuania 2,758 at similar densities. Bunkers are stationary objects whose effectiveness decreases the better their exact positions are known. The defensive line is likely to incur a challenge to Baltic counterintelligence to prevent Russia from identifying bunker locations in overly substantial detail. However, bunker density is unlikely to be consistent along the entire combined Baltic border as not every part of the border is equally useful for Russian invasion, which necessarily requires roads and railways. Again, Estonia is best placed. North of Lake Peipus, there is only a single crossing point over the Narva River at Narva itself, although there are roads on the Russian side of the river that would enable some degree of near-and even cross-river Russian logistical sustainment. South of Lake Peipus are two major roads and one rail crossing, but also a handful of minor cross-border roads could be used to distribute advancing Russian forces across a broader front. Latvia has one rail and two major road crossings apiece with both Russia and Belarus, along with at least a handful of minor roads directly crossing the border and other Russian roads leading to or running alongside the border. Lithuania has two rail crossings apiece with both Russia and Belarus, along with up to seven major road crossings, two with Russia and five with Belarus, besides various minor roads as well. These are places where bunkers are likely to be concentrated. It is unrealistic to sustain major operations nearly, if not actually, totally off-road. The final challenge is bunker placement in a tactical sense. It seems unlikely for bunkers to be within line of sight from the far side of the Baltic borders, merely giving Russians a chance to scout them during peacetime without danger or even controversy. Higher ground is generally more tactically advantageous than lower ground, and bunkers positioned to generate enfilading fire and be mutually supporting rather than isolated from one another are preferable. While Russian logistical demands lead to a focus on roads and rail, the same is true for Baltic and NATO forces; units fighting on the defensive line have to be logistically sustained as well. These are all lower-level details that will be crucial to the success of the defensive line in case of actual invasion. Finally, what are the operational-strategic implications of the defensive line once it is built? First, it runs counter to the doctrinally preferred Western — and especially American — defensive posture, which is an operationally elastic defense premised upon maneuver warfare. In maneuver defense, terrain (and, by implication, the people populating that terrain) is not valued highly in an operational sense; the land is to be given up if necessary and then recaptured later in the course of counterattacks. The main premise is to engineer the best circumstances in which to destroy advancing enemy forces with as disproportionately few friendly losses as possible, all other considerations being secondary at best. A good in-depth defense premised on bunkers and trenches may provide tactical elasticity, but it clearly identifies operational elasticity as undesirable. There is clear incompatibility here, and in this Baltic case, NATO has politically positioned itself in a way that will require some sort of move away from maneuver defense, at least on a major geographical scale. An orientation toward an operationally static, even if in practice tactically elastic, defense will put emphasis on fires into the Russian rear and deep to attrite Russian forces and damage Russian logistics so that they experience difficulties deploying forces opposite the defensive line itself, let alone directly attacking it. Yet Western political leaders may be squeamish about such attacks — witness their present injunctions against Ukraine’s use of Western weapons against targets in Russia itself. The damage Russia has sustained inside its own borders suggests that the West’s fear of escalation is overblown and, given the combination of regime control over the media and the Russian population’s own considerable apathy, constant scenes of savaged Russian convoys and destroyed Russian transport infrastructure in Russia itself may contribute to turning the Russian population against a hypothetically ongoing Russian attempt to invade the Baltic states. Latvian, Lithuanian, and Estonian purchases of HIMARS rocket launchers and ATACMS (long-range, guided missiles with a range of up to 300 kilometers) demonstrate that the Baltic states are at least serious about having the capability to strike deep. However, in the event of a major Russian invasion, Baltic artillery, and emerging multiple-launch rocket system arsenals — the HIMARS the Baltic states have ordered from the United States — would be unlikely to sustain such interdiction for long. The ultimate hope is that the increasing preparedness of the Baltic states and the wider alliance to fight Russia, among which the construction of the Baltic defense line would be counted, would be sufficient to convince the Kremlin to be deterred. Neither the Baltic states nor the West as a whole has any direct control over the outcome of such a decision. At best, all it can do is present an intimidating picture of negative consequences for Russia to consider. If and when the Baltic defense line is completed, the prospect of denying Russia plausible victory in the Baltic theater in a war against NATO should be stronger and may weigh heavier on the minds of Russian decision-makers. Unfortunately, we can almost never know for sure, as there is no way to know why someone has not done something — deterred, never interested, or is it simply not time yet? The Baltic defensive line is a totally logical response to the particular geostrategic challenges Balts face against Russia, even though it will incentivize ways of fighting against Russians with which, for varying reasons, their Western allies may find themselves tactically, operationally, strategically, or even politically uncomfortable. However, preferred Western alternatives — maneuvering defense and possibly limiting strikes into Russia — would be politically, strategically, operationally, and tactically counterproductive for a NATO that fights against Russia on the eastern flank. The Baltic defensive line should nonetheless contribute to a geostrategic picture of denying the prospect of victory in the Baltic, which will hopefully help induce Russia to choose to be deterred. The views expressed in this article are those of the author alone and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Foreign Policy Research Institute, a non-partisan organization that seeks to publish well-argued, policy-oriented articles on American foreign policy and national security priorities.

2024 looks set to be an even more perilous year than 2023 on the Korean Peninsula as nuclear threat and counter threat have escalated even further since the beginning of January. On New Year’s Day, South Korea’s defence ministry repeated previous threats to destroy the North Korean “regime” if it uses nuclear weapons. This was a response to North Korean leader, Kim Jong Un’s speech the day before in which he told his military to prepare for possible war. Since then, Kim has said he has given up on the idea of peaceful reunification with South Korea designating it a hostile state and again warned of possible war. In the past week alone, Kim has called for a change in the constitution to designate Seoul as Pyongyang’s “primary foe” and a confidence building military agreement with the South agreed in 2018 has started to fall apart as the South Korean armed forces resumed frontline aerial surveillance in the wake of North Korean artillery exercises near a South Korean island on the maritime border between the two states. The expected change in the constitution of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea’s official name) follows an amendment last year that enshrined nuclear weapons in it. This week has also seen the North testing what it says is a solid-fuelled hypersonic missile and an underwater nuclear drone in response to what some observers say is the largest ever joint naval exercise between South Korea, the United States and Japan. Analysts believe Pyongyang is developing both so-called strategic and tactical nuclear weapons in order to deter the US which is committed to use nuclear weapons in South Korea’s defence. North Korea has been testing more and more advanced ballistic missiles and warheads, some with the range to reach the US and has also said it is developing ship-launched cruise missiles, while the Americans have been mounting repeated shows of force including military exercises using nuclear-capable aircraft and the visit of a nuclear-armed submarine to South Korea. Last year, the US and South Korea agreed to increase their cooperation on the planning for the use of nuclear weapons following earlier statements by South Korean President, Yoon Suk Yeol, that suggested Seoul might develop its own nuclear weapons. Yoon has since cooled talk of acquiring nuclear weapons, but the debate continues in policy circles. Another escalatory move has been increasing military cooperation between the US, South Korea, and Japan, which also endorses the use of American nuclear weapons in its defence. In the light of this, some analysts see the Korean Peninsula as the most dangerous nuclear flashpoint in a world that currently has no shortage of conflict involving nuclear-armed states in Ukraine and Gaza. Alicia Sanders-Zakre, ICAN’s Policy and Research Coordinator, called for restraint on all sides: “Inflammatory nuclear rhetoric and threats, accompanied by military exercises and weapons tests, ramp up tensions and bring us closer to the brink of catastrophe. All nuclear-armed states, including North Korea and the US, as well as those allied on nuclear policies, such as Japan and South Korea, need to take urgent steps to de-escalate tensions and to break free from the dangerous doctrine of nuclear deterrence. Joining the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons is a crucial step to delegitimise nuclear deterrence and eliminate nuclear weapons.” North Korea uses the same justification for its actions as the US, and the other declared nuclear-armed states. Just like Washington, Pyongyang says it is committed to disarmament, but argues the security threats it faces mean it needs nuclear weapons to deter its enemies. The doctrine of deterrence is based on the threat to use nuclear weapons with all the catastrophic consequences that would entail for the whole world. As the states parties to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) declared at their recent meeting in New York: “the renewed advocacy, insistence on and attempts to justify nuclear deterrence as a legitimate security doctrine gives false credence to the value of nuclear weapons for national security and dangerously increases the risk of horizontal and vertical nuclear proliferation.” The TPNW is growing in strength and has just welcomed its 70th state party while a further 27 countries are signatories. These states recognise that the total elimination of nuclear weapons is a global imperative and they are showing responsible leadership by championing the treaty as the best way to end the existential threat posed by nuclear weapons.