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한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Abstract This departs from an assumption that the EU is an outstanding example of liberal institutionalism. It has been very successful in providing lasting peace for Europeans who are now facing a series of existential challenges.The central hypothesis of this paper is that if these challenges are not addressed effectively, the EU may not survive in the long term.The first part of the analysis explores five external challenges that affected the macroeconomic and political environments of the EU in the third decade of the 21st century.The second part of the analysis signals five internal and more profound challenges the EU must face if it wants to continue in any viable form.The author concludes that the future of the world order and, by extension, the environment of the EU will most likely be decided by three great powers: the US, China, and Russia. Keywords: EU, Great Powers, World Order, US, China, Russia Introduction 2024 is exactly 20 years since the so-called ‘Big Bang enlargement’, which is why the author of this paper takes the liberty of looking at the future of the European Union (EU). The EU is, according to voluminous literature, the best working example of Liberal Institutionalism, which at its very core is about prescribing peace and security. Yet, the EU project seems derailed in the last few years and is becoming increasingly dysfunctional. This lack of internal cohesion is arguably based on several political phenomena: overregulation, ideologisation, and bureaucratisation being the proverbial tip of the iceberg. This paper examines the EU's economic and political environment and then lists five most pressing challenges it must face to survive as an institution. British citizens have already shown the first ‘red card.’ Core external challenges - the macroeconomic and political environments To say that the contemporary world is complex is to state an obvious truism. However, five phenomena should be outlined here as significant variables regarding the EU’s environment. Firstly and most fundamentally, the changes in the international political economy and corresponding structural changes that undermine states’ positions. What we are witnessing is the emergence of non less than the New World Order, which not only challenges the so-called traditional great powers by shifting the centre of gravity to the East but, perhaps most importantly, challenges the position of state actors as ‘shakers and movers’ of the international system. The Great Reset and the Fourth Industrial Revolution are phenomenal examples of the challenges ahead. Secondly, the ongoing war in Ukraine. Apart from obvious regional European relevance, it should also be analysed globally. Russian invasion threatens principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity. If allowed and left unchecked, it encourages other acts of aggression, and in doing so, it confirms a worrying trend according to which the so-called great powers stand above international law. The war draws attention to Ukraine's strategic importance as a large European country. In that sense, the outcome of the conflict will shape the balance of power on the continent. It tests the Western alliance and its response to such challenges. Moreover, it bears global economic consequences—Ukraine & Russia are significant exporters of grain, energy, and raw materials. Prolonged conflict involving these two risks, long-term inflation and food/fuel shortages abroad, is equivalent to the global spread of instability. The Ukrainian-Russian conflict bears an uncanny resemblance to a proxy war between the East and the West competition. An argument could be made that it can be seen as a battle between democracy and authoritarianism, where Russia’s victory strengthens authoritarianism abroad. Finally, let us not forget the nuclear aspects of the conflict. A risk of direct Western involvement would raise the threat of nuclear escalation. The outcome could influence nonproliferation norms for security assurance. Thirdly, and partly as a response to the above two phenomena, there comes the question of German leadership/vision of the future of the EU. The vision of the current German cabinet was elaborated on August 24, 2022, by Chancellor Olaf Scholz at Charles University in Prague. It paints a broad picture of the future of the EU at the beginning of the 3rd decade of the 21st century against the backdrop of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Two stand out among the four ‘revolutionary’ ideas mentioned by Scholz. Firstly, given the further enlargement of the European Union for up to 36 states, a transition is urged to majority voting in Common Foreign and Security Policy. Secondly, regarding European sovereignty, the German Chancellor asserts that Europeans grow more autonomous in all fields, assume greater responsibility for their security, work more closely together, and stand yet more united to defend their values and interests worldwide. In practical terms, Scholz indicates the need for one command and control structure for European defence efforts.[1] Fourthly, and again in significant part as a response to the first two phenomena, we are witnessing unprecedented resistance among large sections of European societies. In particular, the now openly verbalised and physically demonstrated dissatisfaction mainly, but not exclusively by the farmers, to the seemingly inevitable plan for the green transition as heralded by the ‘Fit-for-55’. It is a set of proposals to revise and update EU legislation to achieve a target of reducing net greenhouse gas emissions by at least 55% by 2030 [2]. This ambitious initiative includes actions in fourteen areas, from the reform of the EU’s emissions trading system through reducing emissions from transport, buildings, agriculture, and waste to regulation on methane emissions reduction. Effectively, this means that EU farmers will have to accept an unprecedented and unequal burden. On top of that, there is a question of Ukrainian farming products that enter the European market in equally unprecedented quantities. This prompts many farmers to demonstrate their objections towards their governments and the European Commission by blocking capital cities and transportation arteries across the block. The protests are massive in their character, with thousands upon thousands across most EU member states. Political elites in Europe probably had not expected this and possibly have not experienced such a level of dissatisfaction and resistance towards their policies since the creation of the European Union. Farmers have been aided by other professional groups, from truckers to taxi drivers and even ordinary citizens. Notably, the protests are a bottom-up initiative, though they have also drawn the attention of right-wing parties.[3] Last but not least, there is the question of massive immigration to the EU from outside Europe and consequent challenges to social cohesion in countries such as Germany, France, Italy, and Belgium. As of the writing of this paper (2025), more and more members of the societies of Western EU countries challenge the official narrative of their governments based on the assumption that massive immigration is primarily positive for the economies and that large numbers of non-Europeans pose no threat to the quality of life and security of ordinary citizens (the phenomenon referred to earlier by the author of this paper as ‘a-securitisation’ – Sliwinski, 2016).[4] Worse still, the differences between ‘old’ and ‘new’ members of the EU, namely Hungary under Victor Orban, pose a formidable challenge to the immigration policy of the entire EU and, consequently, the future of the EU's integrity. It is not unimaginable at this stage to fathom a day when Hungary, like Britain before, decides to leave the EU,[5] pressured by Brussels and Berlin to accept thousands of immigrants from the Middle East or Africa. Slovakia could follow suit. Core internal challenges – the weakness from within Many of these problems were accidentally quite openly expressed by J. D. Vance, US Vice President, during his speech at the latest Munich Security Conference (February 14th, 2025). Vance did not spare strong criticism directed at European elites and, in a typical ‘American fashion’, called a spade a spade. His criticism of the EU included six general points: retreat from democratic values, censorship and limitations on the freedom of speech, limitations of religious liberties, lack of election integrity, uncontrolled mass migration, and the general unwillingness of the political elites to engage with views other than those of the left and even tendency to suppress dissent.[6] - Centralisation (Federalisation) Today, the EU continues to centralise, particularly in response to challenges like the economic crisis COVID-19, taking on more fiscal policy, health, and security responsibilities. This trend is evident in recent proposals, such as the European Commission’s role in determining budgetary paths, but it faces resistance from member states concerned about losing sovereignty. Historically, the EU has been moving to a federation through recent treaty revisions: The Treaty of Maastricht (1992) to the Treaty of Lisbon (2007). According to Alberto Mingardi from the GIS, there is a so-called ‘creeping power grab’ phenomenon.  “It assumes that Brussels should become more powerful while Rome, Berlin and Paris less so. [...] europhiles tend to look for opportunities that might allow them to give carte blanche to Brussels, albeit beginning with apparently limited endeavours. Hence, the EU is supposed to grow through crises, and thanks to crises, whatever the problem or issue, it could foster a slice of national sovereignty that can be cut and brought up to a higher level. Behind this, there is an overarching belief in the higher efficiency of centralisation, which is perhaps the true landmark of modern politics. Politicians trust themselves more than the taxpayers; they seek a single control room, and the more it controls, the better. This approach fits well with a protectionist outlook of economics, which sees Europe (‘fortress Europe’, as some say) as one trading bloc set to countervail others (the US, China).”[7] The centralisation (federalisation) logic rests heavily on the arguments presented by legalism. On the one hand, it derives from the strict and literal reading of regulations. On the other, it implies that no sphere of life should be left unregulated. Consequently, overregulation has become a characteristic feature of the European Union.[8] Additionally, the overregulation leads to the often cited democratic deficit,[9] exemplified by the fact that the majority of European legislation that EU member states are obliged to follow is proposed by nonelected technocrats working for the European Commission. - Demographic Decline and Social Welfare An ageing population and falling birth rates threaten the EU’s long-term economic stability and social welfare systems. With a shrinking workforce, funding pensions, healthcare, and social services is increasingly difficult, particularly in weaker economies. This demographic shift also amplifies labour shortages, prompting debates over immigration as a solution—yet one that risks further political backlash as it will inevitably affect European identity. According to available data, Europe is the only continent projected to experience population decline until 2070, with the EU's working-age population (20–64 years) expected to decrease by around 20%. Concurrently, the share of older individuals (65 years or older) will be the second highest globally among large economies. This demographic shift poses significant challenges, potentially undermining the EU's economic and social model, exacerbating existing disparities, and creating political divisions among Member States if not adequately addressed.[10] According to Eurostat, The natural population change (difference between live births and deaths) has been negative since 2012. This is primarily due to the ageing population described in this publication and the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020-2022.[11] - Economic Competitiveness and Growth After the so-called Big Bang Enlargement, all available data suggests that the gap between the EU and the US with regards to GDP output has been steadily growing, that is to say, that the US economy, which recently has been experiencing huge problems, still has been developing faster than the EU.[12] Contemporary the EU is grappling with stagnating economic growth and a loss of competitiveness compared to global powers like the United States and China. High regulatory burdens, internal market fragmentation, and insufficient investment in innovation and technology hinder its ability to keep pace. The growing threat of US tariffs under a second Trump administration will only likely exacerbate these issues, disrupting supply chains and increasing costs. Additionally, the EU’s energy dependence—highlighted by the shift away from Russian gas after the Ukraine invasion—has driven up costs, further straining industries and economies, particularly in countries like Germany.[13] - Weakness as an international actor Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine continues to pose a significant security challenge. The conflict has exposed the EU’s reliance on NATO and the US for defence while increasing pressure to bolster its own military capabilities—sometimes referred to as a ‘European Defence Union’. Tensions with China, particularly over trade and technology, and uncertainty about US commitment to transatlantic alliances add to the geopolitical strain. The EU must also address hybrid threats (e.g., cyberattacks, disinformation) targeting critical sectors like energy, transport, and digital infrastructure. In light of this, Americans are already calling for much more input from the European members of NATO regarding their defence budgets (5% of GDP).[14] This will most likely reinvigorate calls for creating a European Army,[15] which no doubt will be dominated by Germany and France. German domination will be met with considerable unease by some Central and Eastern European Countries (members of the EU). At the same time as the recent meeting, Ryiad shows the US is not even treating the EU as a partner worthy of a place at the negotiating table.[16]When pressed by the likes of Trump and charged with not sharing a fair part of their own security costs, European political leaders invoke the notion of Europe as a normative power. Supposedly, though weak militarily, the EU and its members are a beacon of values such as peace, freedom, democracy, the rule of law and human rights. In his seminal publications, Iaan Manners, argued that the EU's unique historical context, hybrid political structure, and legal constitution enable it to promote norms that go beyond state-centric concerns, particularly in areas such as human rights and the abolition of the death penalty. Manners claims that the EU's ability to define what is considered 'normal' in world politics is a significant aspect of its power, and this normative approach is crucial for understanding the EU's role in shaping international relations.[17] As nice as it sounds, it does not seem to bear much weight in the practice of international security in recent decades. It is the EU, in fact, as an institution and the political leadership of France, Germany, and the European Commissioner, who stand accused now of contradicting all of the above-mentioned values. The latest visit by President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen to Kiev, and her strong support for the continuation of war against Russia is a case in point.[18]   - Ideologisation 'Europeanism' has become an ideology shared among intellectual, political, judicatory, societal,  and even dominant economic elites that influence or shape the European Union as an institution and its major policies. As an ideology, 'Europeanism' is a somewhat exotic mixture of various seemingly incoherent trends that give the current European Union its intriguing characteristics. On the one hand, economically, one can easily identify numerous elements of neoliberalism, especially regarding the financial aspects of European integration. Likewise, arguments used by the major proponents of European integration vis-à-vis the USA, China, or Japan are of neoliberal character. At the same time, regarding international trade in agricultural products, intellectual property, or internal (single market) competition (freedom of labour), one quickly spots distinct elements of protectionism and overregulation. Finally, regarding philosophical outlook and especially moral issues, 'Europeanism' seems to focus mainly on the progressive agenda and a particular ‘obsession’ with climate change revocation. Conclusion As the Munich Security Conference confirmed, EU political elites are way out of touch with reality and a rapidly changing world. Their proverbial Europocentrism is based on, among others, self-precepted moral high grounds, a history of economic and political domination and exploitation, and an undiscerning belief in bureaucratic, if not technocratic, policy-making and regulation of every sphere of life and institutionalism. Their weakness is probably most accurately depicted by the reaction of the Chairman of the Munich Security Conference, Christoph Heusgen, who broke down during his closing remarks, unable to finish his speech.[19] He was patted on the back and given a hug. (This reaction must have undoubtedly caused bewilderment, if not pity, in Washinton, Beijing, and Moscow.) The original integration goals have little to do with today’s Eureaucrats’ obsessions with saving the planet or pushing for Diversity, Equality, and Inclusivity (DEI). With the election of Donald Trump, the world of the ‘Davos Men’ seems to be stalled. Interestingly, the EU is now one of the last standing actors to represent the ideology of globalism, with its tenets based on neoliberalism - unlimited free trade and the capturing role of international transnational companies. The rest of the world, including the US, seems to be moving in the opposite direction – the world driven by state actors. The world order, therefore, is likely to be directed by strong and nationally based governments from no, possibly the US, China and Russia – a ‘Concert of Powers’ of sorts. References ________________________________________[1] The Federal Government (2022) Speech By Federal Chancellor Olaf Scholz at The Charles University In Prague On Monday, August 29 2022. Available at: https://www.bundesregierung.de/breg-en/news/scholz-speech-prague-charles-university-2080752[2] “Fit for 55”, European Council. Council of the European Union. European Green Deal. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/policies/green-deal/fit-for-55-the-eu-plan-for-a-green-transition/[3] Tanno, Sophie and Liakos, Chris. “Farmers’ protests have erupted across Europe. Here’s why.” CNN, World, Europe. Last modified February 10, 2024. https://edition.cnn.com/2024/02/03/europe/europe-farmers-protests-explainer-intl/index.html[4] Sliwinski, Krzysztof. “‘A-Securitization’ of Immigration Policy - the Case of European Union.” Asia–Pacific Journal of EU Studies 14, no. 1: 25 -56.[5] Körömi, Csongor. “Hungary reveals plan to send asylum-seekers to Brussels.” Politico August 22. Available at: https://www.politico.eu/article/hungary-asylum-plan-brussels-migration-refugees-gergely-gulyas/[6] Pangambam, S. “Full Transcript: VP JD Vance. Remarks at the Munich Security Conference”. The SIngju Post. https://singjupost.com/full-transcript-vp-jd-vance-remarks-at-the-munich-security-conference/?singlepage=1[7] Mingardi, Alberto, “The EU’s future: Like Switzerland or more like Italy?”GIS, May 20, 2022. https://www.gisreportsonline.com/r/eu-future/ see also: Dunleavy, P., and G. Kirchgässner. “Explaining the Centralization of the European Union: A Public Choice Analysis.” Edited by P. Moser, G. Schneider, and G. Kirchgässner. Decision Rules in the European Union, 2000. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-349-62792-9_7.[8] Van Malleghem, Pieter-Augustijn. “Legalism and the European Union’s Rule of Law Crisis.” European Law Open 3, no. 1 (2024): 50–89. https://doi.org/10.1017/elo.2024.5.[9] Neuhold, C. Democratic Deficit in the European Union, 2020. https://doi.org/10.1093/ACREFORE/9780190228637.013.1141.[10] Zalai, Csaba. “Too Little Too Late?” Európai Tükör 27, no. 1 (December 13, 2024): 169–93. https://doi.org/10.32559/et.2024.1.9.[11] See more at: https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/web/interactive-publications/demography-2024#population-change[12] See more at: https://www.macrotrends.net/global-metrics/countries/wld/world/gdp-gross-domestic-product[13] See more at: https://www.eiu.com/n/campaigns/global-outlook-2025-the-impact-of-a-new-US-presidency?utm_campaign=MA00001133&utm_medium=paid-search&utm_source=eiu-google&utm_content=&gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiA8fW9BhC8ARIsACwHqYqwk_M8I--YkZ_fiDS6leiOiRLjPXlG63SHjKwQZgP2kaovx_sc4qIaAkGYEALw_wcB[14] See more at: https://www.euractiv.com/section/politics/news/trump-says-nato-members-should-spend-5-of-gdp-on-defence/ and https://www.politico.eu/article/donald-trump-tells-allies-spend-5-percent-gdp-defense-nato/[15] See more at: https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cvgl27x74wpo[16] See more at: https://www.cbsnews.com/news/us-russia-meeting-improving-relations-ukraine-war/[17] Manners, Ian. "Normative Power Europe: A Contradiction in Terms?" Journal of Common Market Studies 40, no. 2 (2002): 235–58. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd.[18] See more at: https://www.euronews.com/my-europe/2025/02/24/ursula-von-der-leyen-arrives-in-kyiv-with-35-billion-in-fresh-aid-for-weapons[19] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhNy0u5-ijY

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском War is a numbers game. Each side involved must marshal the supplies, troops and firepower needed to sustain the fight, thwart advancing armies and, hopefully, prevail. But it’s also a game of uncertainty. For the past three years, Ukraine’s military planners have had to approach every battle with a series of cold calculations: How much ammunition is left? How many air defense interceptors can be fired today, without running short tomorrow? Do we have the men and equipment needed to advance or hold position? But now, with U.S. military assistance on hold and European support constrained by economic realities, that uncertainty is growing. As an expert on warfare, I know this isn’t just a logistical problem; it’s a strategic one. When commanders can’t predict their future resource base, they are forced to take fewer risks, prioritize defense over offense and hedge against worst-case scenarios. In war, uncertainty doesn’t just limit options. It shapes the entire battlefield and fate of nations. Trump orders a pause On March 3, 2025, President Donald Trump announced a suspension to all U.S. military aid to Ukraine. It followed a fractious Oval Office meeting between the U.S. president and Volodymyr Zelenskyy, after which Trump declared the Ukrainian leader “not ready for peace.” Two days later, Central Intelligence Agency Director John Ratcliffe announced Washington was also pausing all intelligence sharing and ordered key allies such as the United Kingdom to limit the information they give Kyiv. National security adviser Michael Waltz has linked the pause to ongoing U.S.-Ukrainian negotiations, stating that weapons supplies and intelligence sharing will resume once Ukraine agrees to a date for peace talks with Russia. A critical supplier of weapons Any pause, no matter how long, will hurt Ukraine. The U.S. has been the largest provider of military assistance to Kyiv since Russia’s 2022 invasion, followed by the European Union. While the level of support is debated – it is often skewed by how one calculates equipment donations using presidential drawdown authority, through which the president can dip into the Department of Defense’s inventory – the U.S. has undoubtedly delivered critical weapons systems and a wide range of ammunition. Though this assistance has decreased U.S. military stockpiles, it has helped Washington invest in its domestic defense industry and expand weapons production. In addition, while Europe is starting to increase its own defense expenditures, EU members are stuck with flat economic growth and limits on how much they can borrow to invest in their own militaries, much less Ukraine. This makes the U.S. a critical partner for Ukraine for at least another two years while Europe expands its military capacity. These conditions affect the design of Ukraine’s military campaigns. Planners in Kyiv have to balance predictions about the enemy’s strengths and possible courses of action with assessments of their own resources. This war ledger helps evaluate where to attack and where to defend. Uncertainty skews such calculation. The less certain a military command is about its resource base, the more precarious bold military maneuvers become. It is through this fog of uncertainty that any pause in assistance shapes the course of the war in Ukraine and the bargaining leverage of all parties at the negotiating table. A new uncertain world The White House has indicated that the pause in military aid and intelligence sharing will be lifted once a date for peace talks is set. But even if U.S. weapons and intel begin to flow again, Ukrainian generals will have to fight the duration of the war under the knowledge that its greatest backer is willing to turn off the taps when it suits them. And the consequences of this new uncertain world will be felt on the battlefield. Ukraine now faces a brutal trade-off: stretch limited resources to maintain an active defense across the front, or consolidate forces, cede ground and absorb the political costs of trading space for time. Material supply has shaped operational tempo over the course of the war. When Moscow expects Kyiv to be low on ammunition, it presses the attack. In fact, key Russian gains in eastern Ukraine in 2024 coincided with periods of critical supply shortages. Russia used its advantage in artillery shells, which at times saw Moscow firing 20 artillery shells to every Ukrainian artillery shell fired, and air superiority to make advances north and west of the strategic city of Avdiivka. Looking to the front lines in 2025, Russia could use any pause in supplies to support its ongoing offensive operations that stretch from Kherson in southern Ukraine to Kharkiv in the north and efforts to dislodge Ukrainian units in the Russian Kursk region. This means Ukraine will have to decide where to hold the line and where to conduct a series of delaying actions designed to wear down Russian forces. Trading space for time is an old military tactic, but it produces tremendous political costs when the terrain is your sovereign territory. As such, the military logic of delaying actions creates political risks in Ukraine – sapping civilian morale and undermining support for the government’s war management. A horrible choice This dilemma will drive where and how Ukraine weights its efforts on the battlefield. First, long-range strike operations against Russia will become increasingly less attractive. Every drone that hits an oil refinery in Russia is one less warhead stopping a Russian breakthrough in the Donbas or counterattack in Kursk. Ukraine will have to reduce the complexity of its defensive campaign and fall back along lines deeper within its own territory. Second, Russia doesn’t fight just on the battlefield – it uses a coercive air campaign to gain leverage at the negotiating table. With U.S. military aid on hold, Moscow has a prime opportunity to escalate its strikes on Ukrainian cities and infrastructure, forcing Kyiv into painful choices about whether to defend its front lines or its political center of gravity. From Vietnam to Ukraine, airpower has historically been a key bargaining tool in negotiations. President Richard Nixon bombed North Vietnam to force concessions. Russia may now do the same to Ukraine. Seen in this light, Russia could intensify its missile and drone campaign against Ukrainian cities and infrastructure – both to weaken defenses and to apply psychological and economic pressure. And because Kyiv relies on Western assistance, including intelligence and systems such as U.S.-built Patriot surface-to-air missiles to defend its skies, this coercive campaign could become effective. As a result, Ukraine could be faced with a horrible choice. It may have to concentrate dwindling air defenses around either key military assets required to defend the front or its political center of gravity in Kyiv. Interception rates of Russian drones and missiles could drop, leading to either opportunities for a Russian breakout along the front or increased civilian deaths that put domestic pressure on Ukrainian negotiators. Uncertainty reigns supreme The real problem for Ukraine going forward is that even if the U.S. resumes support and intelligence sharing, the damage is done. Uncertainty, once introduced, is hard to remove. It increases the likelihood that Ukraine’s leaders will stockpile munitions to reduce the risk of future pauses, rather than use them to take the fight to Russia. And with battlefield decision-making now limited, Ukraine’s military strategists will increasingly look toward the least worst option to hold the line until a lasting peace is negotiated.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском The Islamic Republic of Iran’s nuclear program has been an ever-present vexation in Western political discourse since its full extent was first revealed in 2002. The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), United Nations Security Council, United States of America, European Union, and Israel have employed an ever-widening and steadily-strengthening combination of negotiations, sanctions, and threats in attempts to rein in Iran’s atomic ambitions. Yet, and the severe impact of international actions upon on their nation’s economy notwithstanding, the Islamic Republic’s leaders have not been persuaded to limit the scope of nuclear activities or grant the IAEA enhanced oversight of the program.[1] Not always placed within the context of the Islamic Republic’s actions is that Iran’s nuclear quest began in 1973 while Iran was a Cold War ally of the US. The seeds had been sown more than a decade earlier, when the Tehran Research Reactor was provided by Washington in 1959. Then, as now, it seems Iran was pursuing nuclear weapons capability in tandem with and under the guise of a civilian nuclear program.[2] Much like the ayatollahs today, Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi denied such intentions – claiming Iran was only pursuing nuclear energy in accordance with its rights as a signatory of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). So, re-examining motivations and developments from before the Islamic Revolution can cast light upon contemporary events despite differences between the two Iranian regimes. The Shah’s Intensions During the 1970s just as now, Iran’s quest to become a nuclear power was rooted at least partially in the regional dynamics of its location between South Asia and the Middle East. The shah envisioned his nuclear program as a response to atomic efforts by India, Pakistan, and Israel. He even hinted in June 1974 that the national security of Iran may be best served by possessing a nuclear deterrent: “If in this region each little country tries to arm itself with armaments that are precarious, even elementary, but nuclear, then perhaps the national interests of any country at all would demand it do the same.” The shah did add, to placate his international allies, “But I would find that completely ridiculous.”[3] Nonetheless, other nations were suspicious based on imperial Iran’s growing appetite for sophisticated weapons and the shah’s harkening back to the nation’s historical hegemony. So the possibility of Iran harboring nuclear weapons ambitions came sharply into international focus when the shah asserted that possibility to a French journalist in June 1974. Asked if Iran would one day possess a nuclear weapon like India had just one month previously, the shah declared: “Without any doubt, and sooner than one would think.”[4] Nuclear weapons require sophisticated targeting and delivery systems. At the present, with years of sanctions in place, the regular Iranian Navy and its Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) counterpart have been forced to innovate, rather successfully, in domestically enhancing maritime nuclear warfare capabilities.[5] In January 1975, however, the shah sought to purchase such nuclear-capable technology. Seeking to push through a deal for nuclear submarines from France, Iranian negotiators even claimed the administration in Washington had “been hinting that the U. S. might sell them.” US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger learned of this from French Presidential Secretary General Pierre Brousalette. Understandably concerned, Kissinger responded pointedly and repeatedly that the Iranian claim was “inconceivable … I’m 99.9% sure.”[6] Purchasing nuclear submarines would violate the multi-billion dollar US-Iran arms agreement forged in May 1972 when President Richard Nixon allowed the shah to purchase any weapons he wished from the US short of nuclear weapons and associated technology. Another warning sign was spotted in May 1975 when the shah sought to purchase six battalions of Lance surface-to-surface missiles from Washington. The US administration under President Gerald Ford worked through Secretary of State Kissinger to discourage Iran’s plan because “DOD [Department of Defense] does not consider the Lance a cost-effective weapon when used with a conventional warhead. Congressional critics of our arms sales to Iran would tend to link Iran’s purchase of the Lance with its nuclear development plans.”[7] Again, the parallel with modern day developments as the IRGC produces and seek to purchase missiles capable of carrying nuclear payloads should not be overlooked.[8] Offers and Counter-Offers Undeterred by mounting international concern over his nuclear program, Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi even proposed acquiring six to eight reactors from American suppliers plus more from French and German companies. His stated aim was to meet domestic energy requirements through atomic fission thereby reserving Iran’s petrochemical wealth for export to energy-hungry foreigners. At first glance, the proposal seemed like a win-win situation for everyone. Moreover, as the US government’s production of enriched nuclear fuel began reaching full capacity and plans were made to assemble a private sector consortium to add further capacity, the shah offered to purchase a 30 percent stake. The gesture was significant, as other interested parties had proven reluctant to commit significant funds. Iran eventually loaned US $1.18 billion to the French Atomic Energy Commission and was slated to acquire a 10 percent stake in the French Eurodif uranium enrichment plant. Although that stake did not materialize, the Islamic Republic remains an indirect investor through a Franco-Iranian consortium.[9] At that time during the Ford Administration (1974–1977), however, alarm in Washington over nuclear proliferation resulted in a provision that Tehran would have to relinquish reprocessing of atomic fuel to a multilateral conglomerate or allow direct American oversight within Iran.[10] The shah denounced those conditions as discriminatory because Iran was a member of the NPT and therefore entitled to nuclear technology for civilian purposes. The situation bears an uncanny resemblance specifically to events in 2009 when the fuel swap proposal from the five permanent members of the UN Security Council and Germany failed to win Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s approval and broadly to the vexed history of failed attempts at nuclear safeguards for Iran.[11] The IAEA, US, and EU estimate that the Islamic Republic’s stockpile of 20 percent enriched uranium far exceeds needs of the Tehran medical research reactor for many years to come.[12] Likewise, during the Ford Administration, the US Department of State reported that the shah’s planned electricity generating capacity of 23,000 megawatts went well beyond all projections of Iran’s domestic energy needs. The report therefore concluded that Iran’s motives were “not entirely clear” and seemed to be propelled at least in part by a desire to develop nuclear weapons.[13] As a result, negotiations continued to falter over the reprocessing issue until President Jimmy Carter reached a provisional agreement on the issue with the shah in 1978. Yet, whether the shah would have honored the agreement will never be known for he was overthrown the following year. It is likely, however, that Iran would have ended up confronting the West generally and the US specifically over its nuclear program even if the shah had remained on the throne and continued to be an American ally. Indeed, the shah’s thinly-masked quest for nuclear power was apparent to officials who served him, even as Western governments remained uncertain of the end game as they now seem to be with the ayatollahs. Minister of Court Asadollah Alam wrote in his diary on 29 November 1975 that the shah’s scheme “though he denies it, probably includes our manufacturing of a nuclear deterrent.”[14] Akbar Etemad, the shah’s chief atomic energy adviser, was more definitive when interviewed after the Pahlavi dynasty had been ousted: “I always suspected that part of the shah’s plan was to build [nuclear] bombs.”[15] The Ayatollahs’ Aims Having experienced colossal military and civilian causalities during the Iraqi-triggered border war from 1980 and 1988, Iran’s leadership concluded that survival of their nation and regime were paramount. Like the shah before them, the ayatollahs turned to a nuclear program in the hope of assuaging those concerns. After the Islamic Republic reluctantly agreed to termination of hostilities with Iraq, Ayatollah Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani laid the groundwork for the nuclear program’s recommencement. Even religious ideals which regarded nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction as haram or prohibited were cast aside. Speaking to the IRGC in October 1988, while serving as Speaker of Parliament, Rafsanjani advocated developing weapons of mass destruction “because the need for such armaments was made very clear during the [Iran-Iraq] war … [so] we should fully equip ourselves both in the offensive and defense use of chemical, bacteriological, and radiological weapons.”[16] Once a political consensus had been achieved in late 1988, Mohsen Rezai who commanded the IRGC, and now serves as Secretary of the Expediency Guidance Council, wrote to then Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini requesting both religious endorsement and administrative permission for the revolutionary guards to initiate a nuclear weapons program. Mir Hossein Mousavi who served as Iran’s Prime Minister from 1981 to 1989 supported the request by Rezai and the campaign by Rafsanjani.[17] Although Supreme Leader Khomeini had initially been opposed to the atom’s might, they were able to sway Iran’s revolutionary founder into agreeing that “We have nothing against setting up atomic installations.”[18] So the Islamic Republic commenced fledgling steps toward nuclear power. Subsequently as two-term president of Iran from 1989 to 1997, Rafsanjani ensured Iran fully resumed its quest toward nuclearization. His presidential successors Seyyed Mohammad Khatami who held office from 1997 to 2005 and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad who has been in office since 2005 continued the energy and weapon programs set up by Rafsanjani, Rezai, and Mousavi. Khatami did suspend uranium enrichment in 2003 hoping to improve relations with the US, but legislative elections in 2004 saw resurgence of hardliners on the Iranian political scene and a recommitment to atomic goals.[19] Over the next two decades the Islamic Republic turned not only to its pre-revolutionary technology but also to foreign sources including A. Q. Khan’s illicit Pakistan-based network, North Korea, and the People’s Republic of China as it steadily built-up domestic nuclear capacity. On the political and ideological fronts, a convergence of self-preservation, nationalism, and suspicion of the West leads many Iranian leaders to embrace nuclear ambitions. Hence, like the Pahlavi dynast before it, the Islamic Republic of Iran is unlikely to abandon either nuclear power or the possibility of weaponization.[20] Indeed, negative responses to Ahmadinejad’s attempt to reach a nuclear fuel swap deal with the West in late 2009 are highly instructive. “The discussions in Geneva were really surprising … the hard work of thousands of [our] scientists would be ruined,” lamented Mousavi. Unsuccessful presidential candidate Seyyed Mehdi Karroubi accused Ahmadinejad’s administration of “trying to change its policies” rather than “observing national and religious interests.” Not to be outdone by other politicians, Iran’s Speaker of Parliament Ali Larijani claimed that “Westerners are insisting in a direction that suggests cheating us out of our nuclear rights.” Sensing the overall pro-nuclear sentiment within his administration, Supreme Leader Khamenei then expressed distain for compromise: “When we carefully look at the situation, we notice that they [the U.S. and its allies] are hiding a dagger behind their back.”[21] Present Mimics the Past with Graver Dangers Yet, the government of the Islamic Republic of Iran has consistently denied it seeks anything more than nuclear energy for peaceful purposes. But Supreme Leader Khamenei’s unconvincing words that “We do not have nuclear weapons, and we do not intend to produce them,” are reminiscent of those by the last shah and his diplomats that “Iran is not thinking of building atomic weapons.” Such statements are directed at defusing the brewing storm in Washington, London, and Jerusalem rather than for domestic policy-makers, however. Indeed, and contrary to claims of peaceful intentions, Khamenei has threatened repeatedly by declaring “Iran will respond with the same level of power,” the shah’s regime too left open the possibility of assembling nuclear warheads by claiming “the regime may revise its policy if other non-nuclear nations do.”[22] There is an essential difference in such rhetoric, however, for the shah was not threating the US, EU, Saudi Arabia, Israel, or any other nation with preemptive or retaliatory attacks nor sponsoring terrorism. So unlike the shah, much of the pressure Iran faces is a direct consequence of the confrontational positions taken by its leaders.  Nuclear weapons fitted well with the shah’s ideas of deterring external adversaries and strengthening his hold on power at home, just as similar ideas motivate the ayatollahs who run the Islamic Republic to continue enhancing their nuclear program. If the shah’s pattern of obfuscation between 1973 and 1979 is any indicator, it is unlikely that Iran’s current leaders will meet NPT obligations – even at great socio-economic cost to their citizens and fever-pitch global consternation. Worse, unlike the royal regime whose tyranny inside Iran set a model for that of the Shi‘ite clergymen, the Islamic Republic has come to be associated with threats and violence beyond its borders directed against nations and persons perceived as foes of theocratic rule. Moreover, unlike the shah, the Muslim theocrats who now govern seek to export their intolerant brand of fundamentalism to other nations with an avowed goal of “leading the world.” Equally problematic, they speak of “sharing nuclear knowledge and technology” – thereby further undermining the NPT and possibly even global stability.[23] For the ayatollahs who hold power by force at home and seek to dominate the world stage through terror abroad, nuclear weapons would serve as the ultimate deterrent against punitive consequences, international adversaries, and externally-imposed regime change. Consequently, as the shah did in the 1970s, Iran’s current leaders undoubtedly view acquisition of nuclear technology as a self-servingly rational decision even at the expense of alienating Iran from other countries.[24] Western nations, like Iran’s Arab and Israeli neighbors, were wary of the shah’s motives. Now they are downright fearful of the ayatollahs’ intentions. Even the US with its formidable military resources may only be able to set back Iran’s nuclear plans by a few years if Washington feels compelled to attack. The basic dilemma confronting nations that seek to halt the Islamic Republic’s progress toward atomic power is that rational choices do not always indicate levelheaded decision-makers. Like the shah before them, the ayatollahs resort to political paranoia on the domestic and international fronts as part of their rationale for espousing nuclear technology.[25] Yet unlike the shah’s program coming to a halt through regime change, those opposed to the Islamic Republic of Iran reaching and crossing the nuclear threshold cannot place hope on a new government emerging in Tehran anytime in the near future. The text of this work is licensed under  a Creative Commons CC BY-NC 4.0 license.  For proper attribution, please refer to the original source. [1]. Jamsheed K. Choksy, “More Documentation of Iran’s Relentless Pursuit of Nukes,” Forbes (7 November 2011), http://www.forbes.com/sites/realspin/2011/11/07/more-documentation-of-irans-relentless-pursuit-of-nukes/. [2]. Abbas Milani, “The Shah’s Atomic Dreams,” Foreign Policy (29 December 2010), http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/12/29/the_shahs_atomic_dreams. [3] . US Department of Defense, “US Embassy Paris Cable 15445 to Department of State, Further Remarks by Shah on Nuclear Weapons,” (25 June 1974), http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/nukevault/ebb268/doc01b.pdf. [4]. US Department of Defense, “US Embassy Paris Cable 15305 to Department of State, Interview with Shah,” (24 June 1974), http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/nukevault/ebb268/doc01a.pdf. [5]. Jamsheed K. Choksy, “Why Iran’s Blue-Water Naval Ambition Matters,” The American Interest, (5 August 2011), http://blogs.the-american-interest.com/middleeast/2011/08/05/why-irans-blue-water-naval-ambition-matters/. [6]. US Department of State, “Teleconference: Henry Kissinger and Pierre Brousalette, KA13128,” (8 January 1975), http://foia.state.gov/documents/kissinger/0000D9F4.pdf. [7]. The Digital National Security Archive, “Sidney Sober, Your Meeting with the Shah at Blair House, Confidential Briefing Memorandum to Secretary of State Henry Kissinger,” (9 May 1975), http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=6a6_1181429741. [8]. Michael Elleman, “Iran’s Ballistic Missile Program,” Iran Primer (Washington, DC: US Institute for Peace, 2012), http://iranprimer.usip.org/resource/irans-ballistic-missile-program. [9]. Oliver Meier, “Iran and Foreign Enrichment: A Troubled Model,” Arms Control Association (January/February 2006), http://www.armscontrol.org/act/2006_01-02/JANFEB-IranEnrich. [10]. William Burr, “The History of Iran’s Nuclear Energy Program,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists (19 January 2009), http://www.thebulletin.org/web-edition/op-eds/the-history-of-irans-nuclear-energy-program. [11]. Arms Control Association, “History of Official Proposals on the Iranian Nuclear Issue,” (last updated March 2012), http://www.armscontrol.org/factsheets/Iran_Nuclear_Proposals. [12]. Olli Heinonen, “The 20 Percent Solution,” Foreign Policy (11 January 2012), http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2012/01/11/the_20_percent_solution?page=full. [13]. William Burr, “A Brief History of US-Iranian Nuclear Negotiations,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, vol. 65 (January 2009), pp. 24–25, http://bos.sagepub.com/content/65/1/21.full. [14]. Asadollah Alam, The Shah and I: The Confidential Diary of Iran’s Royal Court, 1969–1977 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1993) p. 453, http://www.amazon.com/Shah-Confidential-Diary-Irans-1968-77/dp/1845113721#reader_1845113721. [15]. Maziar Bahari, “The Shah’s Plan was to Build Bombs: Interview with Akbar Etemad,” New Statesman (11 September 2008), http://www.newstatesman.com/asia/2008/09/iran-nuclear-shah-west. [16]. Institute for Science and International Security, “Nuclear Iran: Nuclear History,” http://www.isisnucleariran.org/nuclear-history. For a similar statement in December 2001, see Kasra Naji, Ahmadinejad: The Secret History of Iran’s Radical Leader (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008), pp. 118–119, http://www.amazon.com/Ahmadinejad-Secret-History-Radical-Leader/dp/0520256638#reader_0520256638. [17]. Erich Follath and Holger Stark, “The Birth of a Bomb: A History of Iran’s Nuclear Ambitions,” Der Spiegel (17 June 2010), http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,druck-701109,00.html; and Naji, Ahmadinejad, p. 117. [18]. Harold J. Salemson and Tony Hendra, eds., Sayings of the Ayatollah Khomeini: Political, Philosophical, Social, and Religious (New York: Bantam Books, 1985), p. 17; and Naji, Ahmadinejad, p. 117. [19]. Karl Vick, “Iran’s Gray Area on Nuclear Arms,” Washington Post (21 June 2006), http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/06/20/AR2006062001584.html; and Naji, Ahmadinejad, p. 119; and Ray Takeyh, Guardians of the Revolution: Iran and the World in the Age of the Ayatollahs (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), p. 247. [20]. Jamsheed K. Choksy and Carol E. B. Choksy, “A Nuclear Iran is Inevitable,” Forbes (19 March 2010), http://www.forbes.com/2010/03/19/iran-nuclear-sanctions-opinions-contributors-jamsheed-and-carol-choksy_2.html. [21]. Reported by Khaleej Times (29 October 2009), http://www.khaleejtimes.com/DisplayArticle09.asp?xfile=data/middleeast/2009/October/middleeast_October795.xml§ion=middleeast; Yahoo News (8 November 2009), http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20091108/wl_nm/us_iran_karoubi; Press TV (24 October 2009), http://www.presstv.ir/detail.aspx?id=109516§ionid=351020104; and Washington Post (4 November 2009), http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/11/03/AR2009110301397.html?sub=AR. [22]. US Department of Defense, “US Embassy Tehran Cable 5192 to Department of State, Shah’s Alleged Statement on Nuclear Weapons,” (25 June 1974), http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/nukevault/ebb268/doc01c.pdf; and Mehr News Agency, “Iran will Respond to Any Attack at ‘Same Level’: Leader,” (20 May 2012), http://www.mehrnews.com/en/newsdetail.aspx?NewsID=1562963. [23]. Jamsheed K. Choksy, “Iran’s Global Ambitions – Part I,” Yale Global (13 September 2010), http://yaleglobal.yale.edu/content/irans-global-ambitions-part-i. [24]. Fareed Zakaria, “Interview with Gen. Martin Dempsey,” CNN GPS (19 February 2012), http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/1202/19/fzgps.01.html. [25]. Ervand Abrahamian, Khomeinism: Essays on the Islamic Republic (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), pp. 111–131; reprinted as “The Paranoid Style in Iranian Politics,” Frontline: Tehran Bureau (27 August 2009), http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/tehranbureau/2009/08/the-paranoid-style-in-iranian-politics.html.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Does the resolutely pro-Moscow approach of the new team in Washington mean that Russia is the big winner in the Ukrainian war at this stage? That Ukraine will have resisted for three years for (almost) nothing? That the United States will reap the long-term benefits of this strategic position in Europe? And will the EU be marginalized and reduced to a secondary role on its own continent? Visible success should not obscure the strategic setbacks of the self-proclaimed winners. Ever since the second Trump administration unilaterally opened direct and exclusive talks with Russia on the fate of Ukraine in Saudi Arabia on 18 February, MAGA communicators everywhere have heralded the end of the conflict. Even if a simple ceasefire now seems highly unlikely, the new American president proclaims that he will soon lead the "peace side" to victory, since he claims to be its leader. Who knows if he will have the courage to apply for the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize himself? After three years of war, if the terms of negotiation announced last week are confirmed, we must return to the essential question of victory and the corollary question of defeat: who can claim the title of victor in this armed conflict? And, conversely, who is to be condemned to the status of the vanquished? The war of narratives has long since doubled and intensified the military war: European geopolitics is now confronted with a viral narrative that portrays Russia and the United States as winners to relegate Europeans and Ukrainians to the status of "losers". But if geopolitics feed on narratives, narratives - especially propaganda narratives - do not exhaust the strategic situation. As Machiavelli noted in Chapter XVII of The Prince: "The politician knows how to create illusions, but when it comes to assessing the strengths and weaknesses of an enemy, he must avoid relying solely on his eyes (which judge appearances) and instead use his hands (which feel reality). Let us be clear: at this stage of Ukraine debate, the reality of victory and the irreversibility of defeat are still matters of narrative. Let us plunge into reality. Ukraine, now vilified and resilient According to the Trumpian narrative broadcast everywhere today, Ukraine and its president must be treated as losers, even defeated. Everything about the behaviour of the American president and his team is aimed at hastening and consecrating the country's defeat: After having been asked to surrender its rare earth resources at rock-bottom prices, Ukraine, like the vanquished in the two world wars, is being excluded from the negotiating table on its own destiny by its self-appointed protector; its legitimate government is being openly denigrated and its legitimacy undermined; it is even being threatened with "war sanctions" to compensate the United States for the financial effort it has made to support it in the face of an illegal invasion. Beneath the strategic shift and the military evasion lies a continuity: for the United States, Ukraine is not a participant but a stake. Ukraine's symbolic defeat - that of history - is obviously compounded by its real setbacks. In addition to the 80,000 to 120,000 soldiers killed on the battlefield, the country of forty-three million people has lost more than six million refugees and millions of citizens who have been incorporated into the Russian Federation. And more than 20% of its territory is now in danger of officially falling under Russian sovereignty. Deprived by the Trump administration of the prospect of NATO membership, it risks a demilitarization comparable to that imposed on Germany after the Treaty of Versailles in 1919. At a time when symbolic defeat seems destined to go hand in hand with human and material misery, Ukraine can only save itself from despair by remembering that it has manifested its national identity - so often denied - with arms in hand. The narrative is that of a failed, slaughtered state, while the strategic reality is that of a state that has repelled the total occupation of its territory. The Ukrainians may not be the winners, but they are not "losers" reduced to an international minority. The United States, strategically discredited Can Washington, for its part, claim the trophy of strategic victory in Ukraine? Is the second Trump administration not determining the destiny of the old continent just as the Biden administration claimed to do, but in a different direction? Can't the United States now, more than ever, claim to be Europe's arbiter? Nothing is less certain: Ukraine's policies over the past decade (the Obama, Trump 1, and Biden administrations) have indeed demonstrated the United States' refusal to play a leadership role in Europe. They encouraged Ukraine's inflexibility towards Russia but failed to prevent it from annexing Crimea in 2014, escalating tensions under the first Trump administration, and then invading in 2022. It then supported it for almost three years, only to disown it in a political transition. Washington has behaved not as a leader but as an arsonist in Ukraine, declaring on the one hand that Kyiv should be free to pursue its alliance policy but ruling out any concrete prospect of NATO membership on the other. One of the main lessons of Washington's Ukraine policy is that being one of the United States' "allies" is a risky business: not only does it leave you at the mercy of sudden shifts in alliances, but it also exposes you to constant admonishment and vilification on the international stage. The Europeans have paid the price: criticized by the Biden administration for their pacifism at the start of the war, they are now being criticized, along with the Ukrainians, for failing to bring the war to an end. The United States has made no major strategic gains in this war: it has undermined its own network of allies, damaged its largest military alliance in the world, NATO, and failed to dislodge its strategic regional rival, Russia. Trump's communication tricks will not change this: the United States has suffered undeniable structural strategic setbacks in this conflict. The long Ukrainian crisis, from the Orange Revolution to the current talks, via Euromaidan and the annexation of Crimea, is the opposite of a show of strength for US international strategy: it is a financially costly and strategically ruinous fiasco. The contamination effect on Asian alliances is likely to be massive and rapid: who will want to rely on the American umbrella against the People's Republic of China? Russia, permanently "de-Europeanized What about Russia? Is it the big winner in all this? After all, hasn't it received the promise of Ukraine's non-membership of NATO, its demilitarization, and its transformation into a rump state between Russian and EU territory? In addition to the 20% of Ukrainian territory (population and natural resources) it has seized, it wants to enjoy the prestige of being treated as a strategic peer by the United States. But is this a victory, even a Pyrrhic one? In historical terms, Moscow has lost in just a few years all the investment it made in its dialogue with the West between 1990 and 2000. It has deliberately squandered its relations with its natural economic outlet: Europe. Russia has been permanently de-Europeanized and will pay the price of this divorce in the form of lower growth potential (loss of markets, investors, assets) and in the form of a substantial defence effort that it will have to maintain in the long term throughout its western part, unless political forces favorable to it come to power simultaneously in the main EU countries, which seems unlikely. Again, we must measure this success with our hands, not our eyes: Russia has not achieved all its war aims, far from it. It did not make Ukraine disappear, and it did not make NATO retreat. Will this strategic hiatus - deliberately pursued by Russia in this war - be compensated for by a successful "pivot to Asia"? At best, the People's Republic of China could give Russia the role of "brilliant second" that Prussia gave Austria-Hungary. It is not so much a Pyrrhic victory as a strategic gamble that China has taken, the payoff of which is neither certain nor substantial. The EU faces up to its responsibilities Despite the condescending statements of the second Trump administration, can the EU claim to have made any strategic gains in this war? Again, the gains are meagre and the costs high: it has made great strides in terms of its capabilities but has not moved into a war economy; it is supporting the Ukrainian state at arm's length but has not forced its way to the negotiating table. If it proves reactive and creative, it can, in the medium term, take advantage of the gaping holes left by Russia and the United States on the European scene. As a result, it can no longer attract states to its side without the threat of arms. The Union must therefore quickly resume its enlargement efforts in order not to leave any space on its doorstep. On the other hand, the United States has openly renounced its status as Europe's protector: it wants to be its ideological dynamo, its industrial and technological supplier, and its strategic dominator. If Europe does not want to be among the losers in the Ukrainian war, it must therefore resolutely take full responsibility for its own defence. The time has come.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Ukraine is no longer in control of its own war; great power politics have overtaken its struggle for sovereignty, as seen in its exclusion from key diplomatic negotiations and its increasing reliance on external military and economic aid. While Kyiv fights for survival, the U.S. and Russia pursue larger strategic goals, reshaping the global order. This is not a war of democracy versus autocracy—it is a battle over power and influence, with Ukraine caught in the middle. Since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014 and its full-scale invasion in 2022, the U.S. has framed the war as a defense of democracy, shaping public perception and policy decisions by justifying increased military aid and economic sanctions against Russia. This framing has also strengthened NATO cohesion and rallied Western support for Ukraine, though critics argue it oversimplifies the conflict’s geopolitical realities. But this narrative masks a deeper reality: a geopolitical contest over Eastern Europe’s balance of power. The U.S. strengthens NATO to contain Russia; Russia fights to keep Ukraine in its orbit. As a result, Ukraine’s ability to act independently is shrinking. At the core of the conflict is a long-standing power struggle between Washington and Moscow. The U.S. aims to maintain dominance over European security, while Russia seeks to dismantle the post-Cold War order that placed NATO on its borders. The Kremlin has repeatedly warned that Ukraine’s Western alignment is a red line, but U.S. policymakers have dismissed these concerns as revisionist grievances rather than legitimate security threats. This deadlock has turned Ukraine into the focal point of an escalating power struggle. For Russia, the war is not just about territory—it is about status. Vladimir Putin frames the conflict as a defense against Western encirclement, citing NATO’s expansion and U.S. military aid to Kyiv as provocations. Moscow’s broader goal is to force a realignment in European security, one that recognizes Russia’s sphere of influence and weakens U.S. hegemony. Under Joe Biden, the U.S. provided billions in military and economic aid to Ukraine, arguing that supporting Kyiv was essential for upholding the liberal order. However, as the war drags on and domestic concerns over foreign spending grow, this approach is being reassessed. With Donald Trump’s return to the White House, U.S. policy has shifted toward a transactional approach, a shift that became evident when he excluded Ukraine from recent U.S.-Russia negotiations in Saudi Arabia, dismissal of NATO allies’ calls for a unified stance against Russia, and willingness to negotiate directly with Vladimir Putin—effectively sidelining Kyiv from key discussions that will determine its future. His strategy prioritizes economic agreements over direct military support, shifting U.S. engagement toward a pragmatic recalibration of interests. This shift was further highlighted during the recent confrontation between Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy at the White House. The meeting, originally intended to finalize a U.S.-Ukraine rare-earth minerals deal, devolved into a heated exchange. Trump accused Zelenskyy of being “disrespectful” and “gambling with World War III,” revealing deep fractures in U.S.-Ukraine relations. The cancellation of a planned joint press conference underscored the breakdown in diplomatic relations, signaling that Ukraine’s leverage in negotiations with Washington is diminishing. The Trump administration’s treatment of Zelenskyy serves as a stark warning to smaller nations reliant on Western support. It highlights the precarious nature of alliances based on strategic convenience rather than genuine commitment to democratic values or sovereignty. Ukraine, once a symbol of Western resolve against Russian aggression, is now being subjected to political maneuvering that undermines its struggle for self-determination. The world is witnessing how great powers prioritize their own interests above the survival of their supposed allies, reinforcing the notion that smaller states can never fully trust the policies of global hegemons. This behavior is not just characteristic of Trump and his administration but is a fundamental aspect of how great powers operate. They perceive their own interests and ideological positions as superior to those of smaller nations, imposing their will under the guise of strategic necessity. The treatment of Ukraine illustrates this dynamic vividly—portraying Ukraine’s justified struggle for sovereignty as though it were a reckless endeavor rather than an existential fight against aggression. The U.S. and its allies, despite claiming to defend Ukraine, have manipulated its war effort for their own geopolitical advantage while simultaneously blaming Ukraine for the very crisis it was forced into. Trump recently emphasized this approach in a statement following a meeting with President Emmanuel Macron at the G7 Summit. He highlighted a proposed “Critical Minerals and Rare-Earths Deal” between the U.S. and Ukraine, describing it as an “Economic Partnership” aimed at recouping American investments while aiding Ukraine’s economic recovery. Simultaneously, he revealed discussions with President Vladimir Putin regarding an end to the war and potential U.S.-Russia economic cooperation, signaling a shift away from military support toward economic and diplomatic agreements. However, tensions flared when Trump and Vice President JD Vance berated Zelenskyy during his February 28 visit, accusing him of ingratitude and pressuring him into a peace deal on U.S. terms. The heated exchange led to the cancellation of a joint press conference and minerals deal signing ceremony. Zelenskyy left the White House abruptly, further deepening the rift between Ukraine and its supposed ally. The public fallout reinforced how great powers prioritize their own strategic interests over the sovereignty of smaller nations, leaving Ukraine increasingly sidelined in decisions that determine its fate. As global power struggles intensify, Ukraine finds itself increasingly excluded from decisions about its own future. Kyiv remains committed to its defense, but external actors—Washington and Moscow—are negotiating their interests over Ukraine’s fate. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s exclusion from key diplomatic discussions, such as the Saudi-hosted talks, underscores this reality. While Biden framed Ukraine as a vital partner in the West’s struggle against Russia, Trump’s approach suggests that Kyiv’s role may be reduced to a bargaining chip in a larger geopolitical realignment.  The Ukraine crisis illustrates the brutal calculus of great power politics, where smaller states become instruments of broader strategic struggles. The U.S.-Russia rivalry has dictated the war’s course, with shifting U.S. policies—from Biden’s interventionism to Trump’s pragmatism—reshaping its trajectory. As Washington and Moscow explore possible diplomatic realignments, Ukraine’s sovereignty risks becoming secondary to great power interests. Great powers dictate the terms of war and peace, leaving Ukraine with fewer choices of its own. The question is not whether Ukraine will survive, but under whose terms it will exist. The text of this work is licensed under a Creative Commons CC BY-NC 4.0 license.  For proper attribution, please refer to the original source

Introduction Qatar emerged as a key player during Operation al-Aqsa Flood conflict, solidifying its role as the leading mediator in the region’s crises and conflicts. Despite the potential challenges posed by the operation on 7/10/2023, given Qatar’s hosting of much of the Hamas leadership, it effectively transformed this challenge into an opportunity. This bolstered Qatar’s influence, strengthening its political standing on both regional and international fronts. First: Determinants of the Qatari Position The Qatari stance on Operation al-Aqsa Flood was shaped by several key factors, foremost among them: 1. Qatar’s unwavering commitment to the Palestine issue and its consistent support for Palestinians in both the West Bank (WB) and Gaza Strip (GS). Alongside significant contributions to the Palestinian Authority’s (PA) budget, the Qatari grant, ongoing since 2018, has been a crucial financial resource in bolstering the resilience of the people of GS against the severe blockade imposed on them since 2007. 2. Qatar’s proactive policy and continuous ambition to enhance its regional and international presence and political influence have been evident through its strategy of serving as a mediator in various conflicts. Over the past years, this approach has solidified Qatar’s reputation as a trusted and preferred mediator, particularly by the US, as demonstrated in its mediation efforts between the US and the Taliban, Iran and Venezuela. Its recent attempts to mediate between Palestinian resistance movements and Israel represent the culmination of a sustained record of diplomatic successes. 3. Qatar’s openness to various Palestinian factions, its ability to maintain positive and balanced relations, and its hosting of Hamas’s political bureau since 2012 have significantly contributed to building strong ties with the movement. This, in turn, has bolstered Qatar’s role and influence in the Palestinian issue, establishing it as a preferred mediator for Hamas, which has openly expressed appreciation for Qatar’s efforts to support the Palestinian people and to manage constructive and neutral mediation during critical phases. 4. Qatar’s strategic relations with the US have enabled it to play significant roles in the Palestine issue, including hosting Hamas leadership under Qatari-US agreements. In 2022, US President Joe Biden designated Qatar as a major non-NATO ally. 5. Qatar possesses many elements and tools of influence and soft power in the diplomatic, media and economic fields, and its success in utilizing its soft power efficiently has contributed to many political achievements. Second: Aspects of Qatari Position Regarding Operation al-Aqsa Flood Although Qatar, like other political actors, was initially taken by surprise by Operation al-Aqsa Flood, it swiftly adapted to the evolving situation. Key aspects of Qatar’s response during Operation al-Aqsa Flood include: 1. Qatar condemned the Israeli war on GS, attributing the escalation and regional instability to Israeli policies. It also denounced the massacres and acts of genocide committed by the Israeli forces against the Palestinian people in both GS and WB. 2. Throughout Operation al-Aqsa Flood, Qatar consistently called for a ceasefire, de-escalation and the restoration of calm in the region. The country actively engaged in political and diplomatic efforts to halt the aggression against Gaza and played a prominent role in the joint extraordinary Arab and Islamic Summit held in Riyadh on 11/11/2023. Qatar also pushed for concrete actions to stop Israeli crimes. During his speech at the summit, the Emir of Qatar stated, “You all know the position and feelings of our people regarding what is happening…. we must take deterrent steps to stop the ongoing war crime, in a way that will also project the weight and leverage of Islamic states.” 3. Qatar addressed the political and media campaigns that sought to incite against it and blamed it for the 7/10/2023 attack due to its hosting of Hamas leadership and financial support for GS with calmness and resolve. On 13/10/2023, Qatari Prime Minister Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani stressed that the “State of Qatar’s commitment to its role as a partner in peacemaking and a mediator in resolving conflicts should not be used to harm its reputation by leveling accusations that were proven to be false and the bad faith of its promoters exposed.” A statement from the Qatari Foreign Ministry on 16/10/2023 clarified that “Qatar is not a financial backer of Hamas. It provides aid to Gaza, and the destination of the money is crystal clear.” “Qatari aid to the Gaza Strip is fully coordinated with Israel, the United Nations and the United States.” 4. During the crisis, Qatar’s most notable official role was its active diplomacy and leadership in mediating a ceasefire and facilitating prisoner exchange deals between the Palestinian resistance and Israel, with direct US supervision and sponsorship. 5. The Qatari media played a pivotal and influential role during the war, effectively delivering detailed on-the-ground reports and covering political and popular movements both within and beyond Palestine. This represented a significant milestone in media coverage of the war’s developments. In response, on 5/5/2024, the Israeli government unanimously voted to shut down Al Jazeera’s operations in the occupied territories and confiscate its television equipment, citing allegations of incitement and threats to national security. Third: Projections Qatar’s numerous achievements in political mediation underscore the success of its strategy, which emphasizes building long-term relationships with diverse global actors. This approach has afforded Qatar significant leverage, enabling it to effectively mediate many crucial issues. Moving forward, Qatar is anticipated to continue its strategic and active mediation efforts, aiming to secure a ceasefire agreement in GS, despite the obstacles posed by Benjamin Netanyahu’s intransigence and his insistence on continuing aggression. The effect of possible regional escalation on Qatar’s mediation efforts is still unclear, especially if Israel ramps up its confrontation with Iran and Hizbullah in the wake of the recent assassinations of Hamas political bureau chief Isma‘il Haniyyah and Hizbullah military official Fuad Shukr. Additionally, the potential impact of a Donald Trump victory in the upcoming US presidential election on Qatar’s diplomatic and mediation roles in the Palestine issue remains uncertain. 

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском In January 2002, the city of Goma, located in the east of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, lay in ruins. The cause was not the Great African War,[1] which had been ravaging the country for several years. The war’s first rebellion had, in fact, started here in August 1998, when Banyamulenge-Tutsi fighters, led by a former ally of President Laurent-Désiré Kabila and backed by Rwanda (where Paul Kagame has ruled since the 1994 genocide), seized control of much of Congo’s resource-rich northeast. By early 2002, tensions were mounting between Rwanda and the Congolese Banyamulenge, while peace talks, facilitated by South Africa, were finally on the horizon. In January 2002, Goma—a city on Lake Kivu’s northern shore, at the foot of the Virunga Mountains—was still in rebel hands. But it also sat just 14 kilometers away from Nyiragongo, a volcano whose lava, low in silicates, moves fast—up to 100 km/h during an eruption. When Nyiragongo erupted, it took just hours for the lava to reach the city center, displacing over a million people and pushing the region toward yet another humanitarian disaster. The region teetered on the brink of it—yet again. Fast forward to January 2025, Goma once again made global headlines. This time, it was not because of a volcano, though the city’s situation did not look too different at first glance. On January 25–26, the M23 rebel group—born in 2012, partly from the remnants of the Congolese Rally for Democracy (RCD) that rebelled in 1998—launched a major offensive in North Kivu. Within days, they captured key locations in and around Goma, including Mount Goma, the airport and the TV station, though the city remained contested. The rebels also seized the nearby towns of Saké and Minova—both crucial for Goma’s supply lines—and started advancing into South Kivu, toward Bukavu, the provincial capital, and Nyabibwe, a key tin-mining site. Clashes led to a fire at Munzenze prison, allowing some 3,000 inmates to escape, adding to the chaos not only in the country’s northeast but also in the capital. On Tuesday, January 28, frustration over international inaction spilled onto the streets of Kinshasa, where mobs targeted embassies, including those of the U.S. and France. Any hope for de-escalation between the DRC and Rwanda now seems all but shattered: borders and embassies are shut, and most openly accuse Kigali of backing M23. Meanwhile, Rwanda remains under the firm grip of Paul Kagame, who was reelected in July 2024 for a fourth term with 99.15% of the vote—an election whose legitimacy, notably, did not raise many eyebrows in the West. Meanwhile, in Goma, early estimates suggest that one in five residents—out of a population of two million—has been forced to flee their homes, even before the conflict reached the current level of intensity. There is no electricity, and shortages of water, food and fuel are worsening, while UN humanitarian efforts appear to be scaling down rather than ramping up. Roots of the conflict The escalation in eastern DRC began long before alarming headlines started appearing in the media. But how far back do we go? Options are open and include: • 2022, when tensions steadily rose as M23 expanded its territorial control in eastern DRC;• 2021, when M23 resurfaced after its military defeat in 2013;• 2012, when M23 first emerged, reached its peak capturing Goma;• The Second Congo War (1998–2003), or even further back to the colonial era, when the ethnic dynamics that now fuel the conflict first took shape to complicate the current events. At this point, one might ask: who are the Banyamulenge and why are they closely linked to Rwanda? The answer lies in the history of the Lake Kivu region, home to multiple ethnic groups. Many of these groups can be classified under the broader linguistic umbrella of Kinyarwanda speakers—meaning they speak different variations of the same language and live not only in Kivu but also in Rwanda. Their core identity lies in ethnic categories such as Hutu, Tutsi or the lesser-known Twa. However, many other ethnic groups in eastern DRC do not see Kinyarwanda as autochthonous (indigenous), which fuels tensions and conflicts, both socially and politically. In response, Kinyarwanda-speaking communities have emphasized their Congolese, rather than Rwandan, identity by adopting local geographic names instead of ethnic labels. That is why we hear terms like Banyabwisha, Banyamasisi and Banyamulenge. Banyamulenge literally means “people from Mulenge,” a highland plateau in what is now South Kivu province. The issue of indigenous status is far from theoretical. On a practical level, perceptions of who is autochthonous and who is not dictate access to land, resources, and political rights and influence. And since power dynamics between ethnic groups in the region are constantly shifting—along with the broader political landscape in the country—so too are identity categories based on autochthony. For instance, the Hutu population in Goma often considers itself more “native” than the Tutsi. One reason for this is that Hutu and Tutsi were arriving in eastern DRC at different points in history: • The earliest waves of migration reached Kivu before the arrival of European colonizers (Germans and Belgians).• The second wave was engineered by colonial authorities, who sought loyal local administrators (such as the Banyamulenge) and a larger labor force for their plantation economy—since Kivu did not have enough workers.• Between 1959 and 1963, Rwanda was shaken by the “Wind of Destruction”—a revolution that overturned Belgian-backed Tutsi rule in Rwanda–Urundi and brought the Hutu to power in an independent republic. Thousands of Tutsis fled, settling in Kivu, where they became known as the “fifty-niners.”• Finally, after the 1994 Rwandan genocide, when Hutu extremists turned their weapons against the Tutsi, the “defeated” Hutu (Banyarwanda) fled to eastern Congo, adding yet another layer of instability to the region. Over time, Congolese authorities treated different “waves of migrants from Rwanda” differently, adjusting their policies to fit the political expediency. They repeatedly changed citizenship laws, granting or stripping Kinyarwanda speakers of political rights. For example, a new law established 1885 as the official “cut-off date” for autochthony, effectively denying voting rights to most of the Banyamulenge—a decision that was enforced during the 1982 and 1987 elections. Unsurprisingly, this political and social exclusion created (and continues to create) fertile ground for mobilization and conflict under various pretexts. In the 1990s, for instance, many Congolese Tutsi, whose ambiguous citizenship status left them disconnected from Congo, joined Paul Kagame’s Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which took control of northern Rwanda and later ended the genocide by capturing Kigali. A few years later, the Banyamulenge threw their support behind Laurent-Désiré Kabila’s Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (AFDL), which helped Rwanda’s new government partially “resolve the issue” of Hutu refugees who had fled to Congo. After fleeing Rwanda in the aftermath of the genocide, many Hutu militants eventually rebranded themselves into the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR). The presence of both Hutu and Tutsi armed groups in eastern Congo effectively transplanted Rwanda’s ethnic conflict across the border. And both the Congolese and Rwandan governments found ways to manipulate this struggle to serve their own interests. This historical context is important to highlight the complex and often contradictory dynamics among the seemingly related ethnic groups living around Lake Kivu. The various ethnic communities in the area are fractured by competing interests, historical grievances and shifting alliances, with numerous armed factions operating on the ground. While Kinshasa and Kigali may view them as proxies, they fall short of full control over these groups, whose actions are often dictated by immediate gains and local rather than regional political interests. The Volcanic Republic On the other side of the border, in Rwanda, the notion of autochthony carries a different significance. Many Rwandans believe that a split of the Banyarwanda (“people from Rwanda” as opposed to Kinyarwanda, “people speaking Rwandese”) between two countries was a colonial construct, imposed by European powers, suggesting that borders in the region are quite artificial. A more extreme version of this narrative argues that Rwanda was historically much larger: “From a vast country that covered swathes of eastern Congo, southern Uganda and north-western Tanganyika, Rwanda became the tiny hill of Central Africa,” a perspective echoed by Rwanda’s formal President Pasteur Bizimungu in 1996. But this is more myth than reality as this claim oversimplifies history and ignores ethnic distinctions. More importantly, it fails to acknowledge that eastern Congo was never under a sustained Rwandan rule—neither before nor after colonization. Still, the idea of a “Greater Rwanda” breeds and fuels certain revanchist sentiments in some corners of Rwanda’s leadership. That is why many Congolese believe Rwanda is trying to carve out a “Volcanic Republic” (République des Volcans) in Kivu—a proxy state that would give it direct access to the region’s vast natural resources. Rebel leaders themselves reinforce these fears. For instance, Laurent Nkunda, leader of the National Congress for the Defense of the People (CNDP)—a faction that split from the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD) that rebelled in 1998 and maintains strong ties to Rwanda through Banyamulenge–Tutsi networks—argued: “If there had been no colonization, and thus the creation of totally new and artificial territorial entities in Africa, today’s Congo would never have existed for sure; but Bwisha would certainly be here as a transvolcanic province of ancient Rwanda.” Ultimately, this has for a long time contributed to both inter- and intra-ethnic tensions in the region, with shifting political, territorial or even personal allegiances of the groups. Who are the M23? To answer this question, we must once again trace the evolution of rebel groups in eastern DRC. During the First Congo War (1996–1997), Tutsi rebels, under the leadership of Laurent-Désiré Kabila[2] and with open support from Rwanda and Uganda, succeeded in toppling Mobutu Sese Seko, who had ruled since 1965 with support from the West. As the Cold War ended, Mobutu had outlived his usefulness by the 1990s, allowing Laurent-Désiré Kabila to take power. The problem was that many in Congo viewed Kabila as a Rwandan pawn. When he tried to shake off Kigali’s influence, the Second Congo War erupted (see above). Rwanda (and partly Uganda) responded by backing a new rebel group—the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD)—which included Tutsi fighters. But when the war stalled, in part due to SADC’s military intervention led by South Africa, the RCD splintered. Its most powerful faction—RCD-Goma—held onto North and South Kivu, although Rwanda’s military remained the true power behind the scenes. In 2002, the Sun City Accords allowed Joseph, Laurent-Désiré Kabila’s son, to stay in power while granting RCD-Goma and the Uganda-backed Movement for the Liberation of Congo (MLC), operating in northern Congo, formal status as legitimate political actors. As part of the deal, Rwandan and Ugandan troops withdrew from the DRC. By 2006, Joseph Kabila sought to consolidate his rule, but his 2007 election victory triggered clashes in Kinshasa with the MLC and a fresh Tutsi-led uprising in the east. This time, it was the Tutsi-dominated National Congress for the Defence of the People (CNDP), a faction that grew out of RCD-Goma. Neither Congolese troops nor UN peacekeepers could stop the CNDP’s advance. The rebels seized control of key mines and supply routes, though they ultimately failed to capture Goma—largely due to their lack of legitimacy and support locally. However, after a peace agreement reached between Kinshasa and the CNDP on March 23, 2009, the Congress formally transformed into a political party, while Joseph Kabila remained in power. In 2011, the CNDP suffered a crushing defeat in parliamentary elections, while Kabila retained the presidency, even as virtually all support for him in the east collapsed. Trying to preempt another rebellion, he decided to redeploy former CNDP fighters, who had by then been “integrated” into the Congolese army, away from the east. At the same time, he moved to arrest their leader, Bosco Ntaganda[3], who had been wanted by the International Criminal Court (ICC) since 2006. This strategy backfired, triggering a new rebellion and the birth of M23, named after the peace deal of 2009, which they claimed Kinshasa had violated. M23 started out small (around 300 fighters in April 2012) compared to its predecessor, the CNDP, it quickly followed in its footsteps and even captured Goma in November 2012. However, this was a step too far for the international community, which quickly mobilized efforts to crush M23 militarily. By 2013, the group had suffered an irreversible defeat—or so it seemed at the time. Paradoxically, however, it was not military pressure alone that led to M23’s downfall. After years of continuous conflict, the rebel leaders—who had transitioned from the RCD to the CNDP and then to M23—had lost much of their political credibility. While they claimed to defend the interests of Congolese Tutsis and protect them from the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR)—a Hutu militia hostile to Tutsis and Kigali—in reality, their real struggle was internal as they competed for power among themselves (M23 changed leadership just one month into the rebellion) and became ever more dependent on Rwanda’s direct military support, which further eroded their local legitimacy and claims to autochthony. Their rhetoric was highly populist, filled with calls for a nationwide revolution, but it failed to address the real concerns of Congolese Tutsis. Military control never translated into political support. By 2013, they were isolated and crushed. The remnants of M23 retreated over the border into Rwanda. With M23 collapsing, its factions splintered into local militias, losing any ideological pretence but continuing to operate along ethnic and materialist lines. The presence of a growing number of armed factions in eastern Congo as well as their constant fracturing is one of the reasons why the conflict has such a complex mosaic to it. Adding to the complexity are the Wazalendo (“patriots” in Swahili)—quasi-governmental militias, some of whom originated from the old Mai-Mai militias that once fought the CNDP. While they may oppose M23, they are far from a unified front. Instead, they operate independently, often pursuing economic interests not too dissimilar from those of M23 and expanding their political clout at the local level. Some of their leaders, too, have been hit with international sanctions. Rather than trying to rein the Wazalendo in, the government in Kinshasa has tolerated their presence, effectively militarizing governance in the country’s east—preferring to co-opt their influence rather than risk another line of conflict. When Goma fell in 2012, it forced the DRC government into something it is now desperate to avoid: direct negotiations with M23. The Kampala Dialogue dragged on for about a year, but it was hardly a real political process. By the time an agreement was reached—where M23 renounced rebellion and agreed to disarm, demobilize and reintegrate—the group had already been militarily defeated and was no longer a real negotiating force, nor was it a pollical actor. The retreat of M23’s remnants into Rwanda only reinforced Kinshasa’s stance: there was no point in talking to a fractured and disorganized rebel group with no clear political vision. If any real negotiations were needed, they had to be with Rwanda, not M23. The group’s main goal had always been controlling the resources and getting the rent—for its leaders, this was about profits, not politics. Even for ordinary M23 fighters, ideology often took a backseat to personal loyalty toward commanders they had known since the CNDP days or before. Volcanoes and minerals In May 2021, Nyiragongo erupted again. While this was just a coincidence, by November 2021, M23 had risen “from the ashes.” Crossing over from Rwanda, they returned to North Kivu, just as they had in 2012, and began their operations in Rutshuru—a town 30 kilometers from Rwanda, home to both Tutsis and Hutus (many of whom had settled there after the Rwandan genocide). Controlling Rutshuru is rather lucrative, as the region holds one of the world’s largest deposits of pyrochlore (a niobium oxide essential for electronics, aerospace, defense and other industries) as well as several gold mines. Without diving into the complex web of connections, it is worth noting that niobium/tantalum became Rwanda’s fifth-largest export in 2022—making it the ninth-largest exporter globally (accounting for 3.35% of global exports and surpassing the DRC’s less than 2%). Thanks to volcanic activity, the provinces on Lake Kivu are especially rich in highly sought-after minerals. North Kivu alone holds deposits of tantalum, cassiterite, cobalt, tungsten, gold, diamonds, tourmalines and pyrochlore. The problem, however, is that mining here is anything but transparent. Most extraction is artisanal, lacking proper environmental, safety or any oversight. The world’s growing demand for critical minerals is only making things worse in eastern DRC. The country relies on mining for 35–40% of its government revenue, and the mining sector is a key pillar of economic growth. However, agreements with Kinshasa do not always guarantee real access to resources. Even within a single province, competing power structures—provincial politicians, the Congolese military, local armed groups, and rebels proxy-linked to the neighbour country—can all contest control over mining sites. Rather than declining, illicit mineral exports—regardless of how they flow—have only increased in recent years, as global demand for these minerals surges and more competition kicks in. Eastern DRC has an estimated 2,500 mining sites—each one sustaining local armed groups and ensuring that the cycle of conflict remains unbroken. Since 2021, the EU and the U.S. have taken a much more proactive stance on critical minerals as new policies were introduced, partnerships with countries like the DRC and Rwanda have been strengthened, and steps have been taken to secure supply chains for critical raw materials while also developing a joint procurement platform. Around the same time, M23 made its comeback. While no direct causal link can be established, it can be suggested that close ties between the West and Rwanda have at the very least given Kigali the confidence to act without major international backlash. It is also probable that Rwanda indirectly controls eastern DRC’s resources through M23, since the group’s successes heavily depend on Rwandan military and logistical support. If these assumptions are correct, Western powers may well see Rwanda as a more reliable and predictable partner—one that could secure their resource interests in the region, something Kinshasa has failed to do for years due to its geographical and political detachment from the conflict zone. However, the situation is more complex than it seems. As M23 expands the territory under its control, it is not just gaining land—it is also increasing its ability to tax local populations. In late 2023, estimates suggested that M23 was collecting around $69,500 per month through various forms of taxation. This steady cash flow, combined with subsistence farming and local trade, actually sustains M23’s daily operations far more than mineral resources do. Extracting value from minerals is a slow, complex and difficult-to-control process, making it a less immediate source of funding for the rebels. So, while minerals are undeniably a catalyst for conflict and something that attracts both regional and global players, they are not the main factor keeping M23 alive. It would be a mistake to view it as the sole driving force behind instability. Even if access to resource extraction were cut off, M23 would still find ways to profit from controlling eastern DRC—which means the conflict in eastern DRC will persist regardless of changes in the resource trade. Why is the conflict exploding now? After its resurgence, M23 has been playing a long game, slowly building momentum for a decisive push. Until the right conditions were in place, they pushed forward assertively but carefully—avoiding an escalation that could bring the same level of international scrutiny as in 2012–2013, when it led to their defeat. In May 2022, M23 tested the waters near Goma but was repelled by the Congolese army and UN peacekeepers. A month later, in June, they triggered a “small-scale” humanitarian crisis at Uganda’s border by seizing the town of Bunagana, forcing thousands to flee—including Congolese soldiers. This move allowed them to control trade routes between Uganda and the DRC, giving them a stronger foothold. By February 2023, they had captured Mushaki and Rubaya, securing control over mines that produce nearly half of the DRC’s coltan output. And the more territory they controlled, the stronger their ranks grew. Meanwhile, there were several failed attempts at diplomacy. In April 2022, the Congolese government agreed to direct talks with several rebel groups in Nairobi, but nothing came of them. In July 2022, Angola attempted to broker a ceasefire, but violations by both sides rendered it ineffective. March 2023 saw new peace agreements, but these quickly collapsed, too. By December 2023, negotiations between the DRC and Rwanda had failed, further escalating tensions in Kivu. At the same time, public frustration with the perceived inaction of UN peacekeepers reached a boiling point. In August 2022, protests erupted in Goma and surrounding areas, targeting MONUSCO, the UN peacekeeping mission deployed since 1999, by far the most costly in UN history. That same month, the East African Community (EAC) deployed a regional task force, but it was stationed in South Kivu rather than North Kivu, where the crisis was most acute. Their presence often led to M23 not being fully removed, but simply repositioning and sometimes coexisting with peacekeepers, as seen in Bunagana. Many locals viewed troops from Burundi and Kenya as little different from the “occupiers” from M23. In the end, the Congolese government demanded the withdrawal of the EAC contingent by December 2023. That same month, after repeated appeals from DRC President Félix Tshisekedi, the UN Security Council adopted a resolution to withdraw MONUSCO from South Kivu and scale down its activities in other provinces. By the end of 2024, the mission was set to be fully dismantled. For M23, this was the perfect storm. The failures of international peacekeeping efforts, along with the stagnation and futility of negotiations—regardless of the mediators or external pressures on Rwanda and the DRC—ultimately played into M23’s hands. Though internal divisions persisted within the group, they understood that their window of opportunity was approaching. The arrival of SADC peacekeepers—who replaced the EAC forces—did little to change things. South Africa, the largest contributor, has been unwilling to fully commit. Public opinion largely views the casualties among South African troops as unjustifiable, while the country’s military is perceivably lacking the necessary preparedness for operations of such complexity, as is the case for eastern Congo. Throughout 2024, M23 laid all the groundwork to make their rapid advance on Goma possible in January 2025. In February 2024, they seized Shasha, a critical choke point controlling access to Goma’s supply routes. Around the same time, they came close to capturing Saké, which they fully took over in 2025—though sporadic shelling never ceased. By May 2024, half of Masisi Territory was under their control. Looking at the maps tracking M23’s territorial expansion compared to their 2012 peak when they first took Goma, it becomes painfully clear: their march toward Goma was never a question of ‘if’—only ‘when.’ Source: IPIS It appears that M23—and quite so Rwanda—have learned critical lessons from their 2013 defeat. Back then, as previously noted, the movement lacked both a political leader and a clear agenda, aside from an empty call for revolution across the DRC. Now, however, a major political figure has entered the scene: Corneille Nangaa has arrived in Goma, now under M23’s control. Formerly the head of the DRC’s National Electoral Commission, he was the one who validated Félix Tshisekedi’s contested victory in the 2018 elections. However, by 2023, tensions with Tshisekedi escalated, leading Nangaa to break ranks and align himself with M23. For the movement, he represents their first national-level political figure, unaffiliated with the Tutsi. Moreover, Nangaa has his own vision for the conflict: “In Congo, we have a non-state. Where all the armed groups have sprung up, it's because there’s no state. We want to recreate the state.” This suggests that the endgame for the current iteration of the conflict could be about securing political power in Kinshasa. This, in turn, echoes the dynamics of the First Congo War. Meanwhile, international mediators continue to flounder. Turkey has been dismissed, Angola’s peace talks have gone nowhere, South Africa has suffered reputational damage that led to tensions with Rwanda, and France’s shuttle diplomacy has achieved little. The EAC and SADC emergency summits continue, but this all with little coordination or tangible impact—each actor is seemingly pursuing their own interests, hoping for a chance of breakthrough. In stark contrast, M23 has moved with confidence and clarity, seeking solid control over eastern DRC and now willing to install an ally (at least) in Kinshasa.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском The integration of Artificial Intelligence into military frameworks by India and Pakistan is reshaping regional security dynamics, fueling a doctrinal shift with profound implications for strategic stability. As AI-driven systems enhance military capabilities, the accompanying risks of miscalculation, escalation, and ethical dilemmas demand urgent dialogue and regulatory measures to mitigate potential conflict. The rise of Artificial Intelligence (AI) as a transformative technology has reshaped global dynamics across various domains, including national security. As states increasingly incorporate AI into military frameworks, the implications for strategic stability, particularly in nuclear-armed regions like South Asia, are profound. The militarisation of AI by India and Pakistan, underpinned by their historical rivalry, is catalysing a doctrinal evolution with both opportunities and risks for regional security. AI is becoming a cornerstone of military innovation in South Asia with capabilities of autonomous weapons systems, surveillance technologies, and decision-making frameworks becoming increasingly relevant. The development of Lethal Autonomous Weapon Systems, often termed “killer robots,” epitomises the dual-use nature of AI—it offers strategic advantages but also raises concerns about malfunction, miscalculation, and escalation. These concerns are amplified when AI technologies are integrated into nuclear and conventional military frameworks, especially in volatile regions like South Asia. India’s AI-driven military modernisation India has positioned AI as a central element of its strategic ambitions, supported by initiatives such as the Defense AI Council and the establishment of the Centre for AI and Robotics (CAIR) under its Defense Research and Development Organization. The country’s AI-focused projects include developing multi-agent robotic frameworks, advanced surveillance systems, and AI-powered drones. Additionally, HAL Tejas, a multi role combat aircraft, has been modernised by CAIR to assists in maintaining Indian Air Force systems. Meanwhile, the acquisition of over five thousand drones in 2016 have come into action in defence frameworks.  The multi-agent robotic drones work in groups by forming teams for swarms. Collaborative efforts with international partners, including Israel and Japan, have further bolstered India’s AI capabilities, including in teaming initiatives. The integration of disruptive technologies has come along way, evolving with doctrinal changes, particularly with the Joint Doctrine of Indian Armed Forces (2017) and the Land Warfare Doctrine (2018). While both included the potential for AI capabilities, the LWD placed specific emphasis on multi-front environmental frameworks, hybrid warfare, and the incorporation of disruptive technologies in the military domain to secure strategic edge. The deployment of AI-enabled systems along sensitive borders, such as its northwestern frontier with Pakistan, underscores an intent to enhance both offensive and defensive operations. Pakistan’s Response to AI Militarisation Pakistan has also begun integrating AI into its military strategies, albeit this has taken place at an earlier stage. Initiatives such as the establishment of the Centre for Artificial Intelligence and Computing and the Army Centre of Emerging Technologies highlight Pakistan’s focus on leveraging AI for defense and cybersecurity. Pakistan’s collaborations with China, a global leader in AI, have facilitated the development of unmanned systems and other AI-enabled technologies. For instance, a joint venture with Chinese Chengdu Aircraft Company is helping to develop unmanned aerial vehicles. Meanwhile, Pakistan has purchased from China Cai Hong drones (Rainbow4/CH-4) that can be effectively deployed for strike missions and reconnaissance. Evolving Nuclear Doctrines India’s nuclear doctrine, historically anchored in a no-first-use (NFU) policy, has evolved to reflect greater flexibility and ambiguity. Statements by Indian officials, coupled with advancements in AI and surveillance technologies, indicate a potential shift toward counterforce strategies. This can be assessed from the statements by national security officials, including 2010 national security advisor Shivshankar Menon, who remarked that “India’s NFU doctrine applied to non-nuclear weapons states, implying that the NFU would not apply to Pakistan.” Rajnath Sing, tthe current Indian defense minister, hinted at flexibility of NFU by saying that “India has strictly adhered to this doctrine. What happens in future depends on the circumstances.” Doctrinal transformations, such as the Land Warfare Doctrine further highlights India’s focus on leveraging AI to enhance its strategic edge. These changes, coupled with the deployment of AI-enabled surveillance systems along borders, signals India’s intent to strengthen its deterrence posture while maintaining the flexibility to adapt to emerging threats. Pakistan’s nuclear doctrine has evolved from a first-use policy to a more nuanced approach encapsulated in the Full Spectrum Deterrence and Quid Pro Quo Plus strategies. The policies of quid pro quo plus and full spectrum deterrence conveys that Pakistan would respond to any kind of cross border military adventure from India in more than a tit-for-tat, a clear message that the response would be a notch higher on the escalation ladder while still posturing the threat of nuclear retaliation at every step of the escalation ladder. These frameworks aim to counter India’s conventional and nuclear superiority by maintaining credible deterrence across the escalation spectrum. These include the development of tactical nuclear weapons and advancements in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance capabilities. Challenges and Risks The militarisation of AI in South Asia introduces several challenges, including the erosion of strategic stability, the lowering of the nuclear threshold, and the risk of accidental escalation. AI-driven systems, while efficient, lack the nuanced judgment of human operators. This increases the risk of unintended escalation during crises. Additionally, the integration of AI into nuclear command-and-control systems could compress decision-making timelines, heightening the risk of hasty or ill-informed actions. The proliferation of AI technologies also raises concerns about their acquisition by non-state actors, who could exploit these systems for malicious purposes. Finally, the deployment of autonomous weapons systems poses ethical dilemmas and challenges existing frameworks of international humanitarian law. To address these challenges, it is imperative for South Asian states to adopt regulatory frameworks and confidence-building measures. Potential steps include bilateral and multilateral dialogues. For instance, India and Pakistan could engage in dialogue to establish norms and protocols for the use of AI in military operations. Additionally, transparency initiatives, such as data-sharing mechanisms and joint exercises, can help reduce mistrust and prevent miscalculation. Prioritising AI applications for defensive purposes, such as enhanced surveillance and early warning systems, can also mitigate risks while strengthening deterrence. Conclusion The militarisation of AI is reshaping the strategic landscape of South Asia, driving doctrinal evolution, and altering the balance of power. The integration of AI in the military domain is leading India and Pakistan towards a potentially deepening security dilemma. This demonstrates that South Asia, in the age of AI militarisation, will be dominated by feelings of mistrust and erosion of strategic stability. By fostering dialogue and adopting regulatory measures, South Asian states can ensure that AI serves as a tool for stability rather than a catalyst for conflict. In an era of rapid technological advancement, the imperative to manage AI’s military applications responsibly has never been greater. This article was published under a Creative Commons Licence. For proper attribution, please refer to the original source.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Russia President Vladimir Putin sent a guarded message of congratulations to Donald Trump on inauguration day, but then held a long direct call with his “dear friend,” Chinese leader Xi Jinping. From Putin’s perspective, this makes sense. Russia gets billions of dollars from energy sales to China and technology from Beijing, but from Washington, until recently, mostly sanctions and suspicion. Moscow is hoping for a more positive relationship with the current White House occupant, who has made his desire for a “deal” to end the Ukraine war well known. But talk of exit scenarios from this 3-year-old conflict should not mask the fact that since the invasion began, Putin has overseen one of the worst periods in Russian foreign policy since the end of the Cold War. Transatlantic unity The war in Ukraine has foreclosed on options and blunted Russian action around the world. Unlike the annexation of Crimea in 2014, the 2022 invasion produced an unprecedented level of transatlantic unity, including the expansion of NATO and sanctions on Russian trade and finance. In the past year, both the U.S. and the European Union expanded their sanction packages. And for the first time, the EU banned the re-export of Russian liquefied natural gas and ended support for a Russian LNG project in the Arctic. EU-Russian trade, including European imports of energy, has dropped to a fraction of what it was before the war.   The two Nordstrom pipelines, designed to bring Russian gas to Germany without transiting East Europe, lie crippled and unused. Revenues from energy sales are roughly one-half of what they were two years ago.   At the same time, the West has sent billions in military and humanitarian aid to Ukraine, enabling a level of resilience for which Russia was unprepared. Meanwhile, global companies and technical experts and intellectuals have fled Russia in droves. While Russia has evaded some restrictions with its “shadow fleet” – an aging group of tankers sailing under various administrative and technical evasions – the country’s main savior is now China. Trade between China and Russia has grown by nearly two-thirds since the end of 2021, and the U.S. cites Beijing as the main source of Russia’s “dual use” and other technologies needed to pursue its war. Since the start of the war in Ukraine, Russia has moved from an energy-for-manufactured-goods trade relationship with the West to one of vassalage with China, as one Russia analyst termed it. Hosting an October meeting of the BRICS countries – now counting 11 members, including the five original members: Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa – is unlikely to compensate for geopolitical losses elsewhere. Problems at home... The Russian economy is deeply distorted by increased military spending, which represents 40% of the budget and 25% of all spending. The government now needs the equivalent of US$20 billion annually in order to pay for new recruits. Russian leaders must find a way to keep at least some of the population satisfied, but persistent inflation and reserve currency shortages flowing directly from the war have made this task more difficult. On the battlefield, the war itself has killed or wounded more than 600,000 Russian soldiers. Operations during 2024 were particularly deadly, producing more than 1,500 Russian casualties a day. The leader who expected Kyiv’s capitulation in days now finds Russian territory around Kursk occupied, its naval forces in the Black Sea destroyed and withdrawn, and one of its own generals assassinated in Moscow. But probably the greatest humiliation is that this putative great power with a population of 144 million must resort to importing North Korean troops to help liberate its own land. ...and in its backyard Moscow’s dedication to the war has affected its ability to influence events elsewhere, even in its own neighborhood. In the Caucasus, for example, Russia had long sided with Armenia in its running battle with Azerbaijan over boundaries and population after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Moscow has brokered ceasefires at various points. But intermittent attacks and territorial gains for Azerbaijan continued despite the presence of some 2,000 Russian peacekeepers sent to protect the remaining Armenian population in parts of the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh. In September 2023, Azerbaijan’s forces abruptly took control of the rest of Nagorno-Karabakh. More than 100,000 Armenians fled in the largest ethnic cleansing episode since the end of the Balkan Wars. The peacekeepers did not intervene and later withdrew. The Russian military, absorbed in the bloody campaigns in Ukraine, could not back up or reinforce them. The Azeris’ diplomatic and economic position has gained in recent years, aided by demand for its gas as a substitute for Russia’s and support from NATO member Turkey. Feeling betrayed by Russia, the Armenian government has for the first time extended feelers toward the West — which is happy to entertain such overtures. Losing influence and friends Russia’s loss in the Caucasus has been dwarfed by the damage to its military position and influence in the Middle East. Russia supported the Syrian regime of Bashar al-Assad against the uprisings of the Arab Spring in 2011 and saved it with direct military intervention beginning in 2015. Yet in December 2024, Assad was unexpectedly swept away by a mélange of rebel groups. The refuge extended to Assad by Moscow was the most it could provide with the war in Ukraine having drained Russia’s capacity to do more. Russia’s possible withdrawal from the Syrian naval base at Tartus and the airbase at Khmeimim would remove assets that allowed it to cooperate with Iran, its key strategic partner in the region. More recently, Russia’s reliability as an ally and reputation as an armory has been damaged by Israeli attacks not only on Hezbollah and other Iranian-backed forces in Lebanon and Syria, but on Iran itself. Russia’s position in Africa would also be damaged by the loss of the Syrian bases, which are key launch points for extending Russian power, and by Moscow’s evident inability to make a difference on the ground across the Sahel region in north-central Africa. Dirty tricks, diminishing returns Stalemate in Ukraine and Russian strategic losses in Syria and elsewhere have prompted Moscow to rely increasingly on a variety of other means to try to gain influence. Disinformation, election meddling and varied threats are not new and are part of Russia’s actions in Ukraine. But recent efforts in East Europe have not been very productive. Massive Russian funding and propaganda in Romania, for example, helped produce a narrow victory for an anti-NATO presidential candidate in December 2024, but the Romanian government moved quickly to expose these actions and the election was annulled. Nearby Moldova has long been subject to Russian propaganda and threats, especially during recent presidential elections and a referendum on stipulating a “European course” in the constitution. The tiny country moved to reduce its dependency on Russian gas but remains territorially fragmented by the breakaway region of Transnistria that, until recently, provided most of the country’s electricity. Despite these factors, the results were not what Moscow wanted. In both votes, a European direction was favored by the electorate. When the Transnistrian legislature in February 2024 appealed to Moscow for protection, none was forthcoming. When Moldova thumbs its nose at you, it’s fair to say your power ranking has fallen. Wounded but still dangerous Not all recent developments have been negative for Moscow. State control of the economy has allowed for rapid rebuilding of a depleted military and support for its technology industry in the short term. With Chinese help and evasion of sanctions, sufficient machinery and energy allow the war in Ukraine to continue. And the inauguration of Donald Trump is likely to favor Putin, despite some mixed signals. The U.S. president has threatened tariffs and more sanctions but also disbanded a Biden-era task force aimed a punishing Russian oligarchs who help Russia evade sanctions. In the White House now is someone who has openly admired Putin, expressed skepticism over U.S. support for Ukraine and rushed to bully America’s closest allies in Latin America, Canada and Europe. Most importantly, Trump’s eagerness to make good on his pledge to end the war may provide the Russian leader with a deal he can call a “victory.” The shrinking of Russia’s world has not necessarily made Russia less dangerous; it could be quite the opposite. Some Kremlin watchers argue that a more economically isolated Russia is less vulnerable to American economic pressure. A retreating Russia and an embattled Putin could also opt for even more reckless threats and actions – for example, on nuclear weapons – especially if reversing course in Ukraine would jeopardize his position. It is, after all, Putin’s war. All observers would be wise to note that the famous dictum “Russia is never as strong as she looks … nor as weak as she looks” has been ominously rephrased by Putin himself: “Russia was never so strong as it wants to be and never so weak as it is thought to be.”

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Finally, after many leaks, hints, intimations and procrastinations, US President Donald Trump might have come up with something a bit more specific than his initial general promises to put an end to the Russian-Ukrainian conflict in 24 hours. For the first time a draft of his peace plan is on the table. The plan was revealed by various Ukrainian and European media last week and though it has never been officially confirmed by the White House or the State Department, there are reasons to believe that we indeed observe a gradual shaping of the new Administration’s position on arguably the most destructive and dangerous military conflict of our times. However, the devil is always in details. Let us have a closer look at what Trump has or may have in mind. Ceasefire According to the plan, the peace process should start with Presidents Putin and Zelensky having an urgent phone call followed by a face-to-face meeting no later than in the end of February or in the beginning of March. A complete ceasefire along the present line of contact should be in place by the day of 2025 Christian Easter (April 20) and European peacekeeping units will be asked to police a demilitarized zone separating the two sides (American troops will not have their boots on the ground). Shortly after that, by the time of the 80-year anniversary of the V-day in Europe (May 9), a comprehensive peace agreement should be signed and, if needed, ratified by the parties to the conflict. This is an exceptionally bold and ambitious time-table, but is it nonetheless realistic? First, it would be quite a challenge even to make Putin and Zelensky directly talk to each other. In fall of 2022, the Ukrainian President signed a special executive order forbidding himself engaging in any direct negotiations with his Russian counterpart. On the Russian side, there are serious doubts about the legitimacy of the Ukrainian leader since his term in power already expired in May of 2024 and no national elections have been held after that. More importantly, it would be very hard to enforce the ceasefire, if and when such a ceasefire is reached. The experience of the Minsk Agreement implementation and international monitoring is not very reassuring, and the line of contact today is much longer than it was back in 2015. To put together a well-trained and properly equipped international monitoring mission of tens of thousands uniformed men and women would be next to impossible, at least within the time framework suggested by the US Administration. Needless to say, Russia would hardly accept a EU/NATO peacekeeping mission on its territory. Territorial compromises Trump apparently suggests that both sides should stick to the territories that they now have under their control. This idea logically implies a demand for Kyiv to accept Russian sovereignty on the parts of the four former Ukrainian regions as well as on the Crimean Peninsula that was reunited with the Russian Federation eleven years ago after the referendum of March, 2014. The Ukrainian side should also withdraw from the Russian territories in the Kursk region that it currently occupies. In exchange Russia should stop its ongoing offensive in Donbass and limit its territorial acquisitions to what it already has in its possession. This proposal is clearly not exactly what either Kyiv or Moscow would like to see as the final peace settlement. In Ukraine, they still hope that at some point thy will be in a position to restore the territorial integrity of the country including what they lost back in 2014—namely, parts of Eastern Donbass and Crimea. The Russian leadership, in its turn, intends to capture at least all the remaining territories of the four regions that it does not fully control now (Donetsk, Lugansk, Kherson and Zaporozhye) and maybe even to advance further West. (Kharkov, Odessa and so on). To reach a compromise between these two positions would be truly a formidable task. Future status of Ukraine According to Donald Trump, Ukraine should not become a NATO member—at least, in the foreseeable future. He remains skeptical about a possible Ukrainian contribution to the Alliance security, he does not want to enlarge the NATO’s zone of responsibility, and he does not want to cross Moscow’s red line on this very issue. However, Ukraine may still aspire to join the European Union before too long, and the United States is ready to assist Kyiv in meeting its European aspirations. A neutral status for Ukraine is something that many in Kyiv would lament and consider a serious setback, while many in Moscow would definitely appreciate and support. However, how can this neutrality be secured in the long term? After all, Ukraine has already been neutral; this status was explicitly stated in the very first declaration on Ukrainian sovereignty approved by the Ukrainian Parliament even before the Soviet disintegration and later on incorporated into the Ukrainian Constitution. And yet, since at least 2008 Kyiv was contentiously drifting away from this initial position; finally, the national Constitution was revised and the pro-Western Ukrainian political leadership started actively seeking membership in the North Atlantic Alliance. What would prevent future Ukraine from changing its mind once again in five or ten or twenty years from now, when neither Trump, nor Putin is around to stop it from moving in the NATO membership direction? Security guarantees Instead of offering Kyiv prompt NATO membership, Trump is ready to provide US security guarantees to Ukraine in exchange for getting for the US business a preferential access to valuable Ukrainian mineral resources—including natural gas, lithium, titanium and graphite. The United States will continue to assist Ukraine with military hardware deliveries till at least 2030, but these deliveries will no longer take form of charity—they should generate appropriate profits for the US defence sector and create jobs for American workers. This part of Trump‘s proposals remains highly ambiguous and unclear. What kind of security guarantees is the United States willing to offer Ukraine? Are we going to see US military bases on the Ukrainian soil or any other manifestations of the US military presence there? Is Trump ready to turn Ukraine into another Israel or another Japan? If this is the case, then does such an arrangement really differ a lot from a Ukrainian membership to NATO? Would Moscow easily accept a not-so-symbolic US military presence so close to its borders? The proposed US access to Ukraine’s natural resources also raises many questions. Ukraine indeed has repositories of valuable minerals (arguably amounting to USD 15 trillion of total value), but most of these repositories are located on the territories that are now controlled by Russia. Sanctions As an additional incentive for Moscow to demonstrate the needed flexibility, Trump offers Russia to lift economic sanctions as a part of the overall peace arrangement. He argues that the Western sanctions have a profound negative impact on the Russian economy, slow down Russia’s modernization and prevent the country from taking its rightful place within the international economic system. The prospect of lifting sanctions should therefore motivate the Kremlin to go for a reasonable compromise in order to put an end to the fratricidal conflict. This idea sounds great, but it seems that Trump offers more than he can deliver. First, Russia suffers more from the EU sanctions than from the US sanctions; the Russia-EU trade has always been significantly larger than the Russia-US trade. No US President can simply ‘order’ the European allies of the United States to completely reverse their current policy towards Moscow, even if the Russian-Ukrainian conflict is miraculously stopped. The odds are that the EU sanctions imposed on Moscow will be in place for a long time, even if the US sanctions are lifted. Second, even on the US sanctions lifting, Donald Trump is not that omnipotent. Some of these sanctions have been approved by the US Congress and have become national laws. To recall or even to ease them, one should pass an appropriate legislative decision on the Capitol Hill, which might turn out to be extremely complicated and protracted. Reconstruction of Ukraine Like in many other cases, Trump has absolutely no intention to spend large amounts of US taxpayer’s money on reconstructing such a distant land as Ukraine. Instead, the US President would like to impose this heavy burden on the European Union (exactly like he intends to impose the financial burden of Gaza reconstruction on the Arab Gulf states). The price tag of Ukraine’s reconstruction might amount to USD 500 billion, and EU should be prepared to annually allocate up to USD 50 billion for ten years. A part of the funding, however, can come from special duties imposed on Russia’s energy exports in exchange for lifting Western sanctions on the Russian hydrocarbons production. This part of Trump’s proposals is based on a number of arbitrary assumptions, which are hard to assess at this point. Nobody really knows how much the Ukrainian reconstruction will ultimately cost and how long time it will take. The actual financial capabilities of the European Union might turn out to be more modest than Trump apparently expects, especially given the fact that the US Administration’s wish list for Europe is not limited to supporting Ukraine only, but also includes more generous contributions to NATO, multiple trade concessions, more economic engagement in the Middle East and so on. Ukraine’s absorption capacity might turn out to be limited as well, given the present state of economic and administrative reforms, rampant corruption and the exodus of a large part of the county’s population to Europe. Finally, it is hard to imagine how Trump will convince Putin to pay duties on Russia’s energy exports, particularly when Trump remains committed to bringing the global energy prices down to the extent possible. European security So far, the Trump Administration has not been very prolific on how the settlement of the Russian-Ukrainian conflict should affect a more general problem of the European security. Still, this dimension of a potential agreement has to be kept in mind, if the idea is to provide for a lasting peace in the Euroatlantic space. Russian officials have stated more than once that the ongoing conflict is not just a clash between Russia and Ukraine, but rather a standstill between Russia and the ‘collective West’. That implies that any settlement should include a broader range of arrangements on the future European security architecture, such as multilateral confidence building measures, mil-to-mil contacts at various levels and even some forms of conventional arms control in Europe. The problem is that Trump has never been particularly interested in any meaningful forms of multilateralism including multilateral arms control or confidence building measures. Moreover, he has always been skeptical of any arms control, bilateral including, regarding it as an unnecessary and potentially even harmful way to limit the US abilities to outspend and to outperform all its adversaries and rivals. This is why during his first term in power Trump decided to abandon the US-Soviet INF Treaty, was not eager to extend the New START Agreement and decided to withdraw from the Treaty on Open Skies. It is not clear how with such an attitude Donald Trump is planning to ensure that there will be no other dangerous crisis in Europe soon after a settlement of the Russian-Ukrainian conflict is reached. To sum up, it is definitely good news that Donald Trump has finally come with some kind of a peace plane for Ukraine. To have something to consider and to discuss is undoubtedly better than to have nothing and to speculate about what the White House may or may not offer. Still, the Trump plan in its current form is only half-baked. It might be the right first step, not much more than the very first step. A lot will now depend on the US Administration commitment, stamina, patience and its attention span. Peace talks are different from business negotiations that Trump is so used to. In business negotiation, you can accept failures to reach a good deal and you can move on to other opportunities, which you will always find around in plenty. In peace talks, failure is not an acceptable outcome. First published in the Guacha.