Provider of in-depth & balanced analysis on hot issues around the world

A Sobering Anniversary Fifty years of diplomatic relations – and little to celebrate: The 25th EU-China Summit, held in Beijing on July 24, was overshadowed by deep disagreements. From trade disputes to China’s stance on Russia’s war in Ukraine, expectations on both sides were low. While there were symbolic gestures and limited agreements on climate and critical minerals, the meeting highlighted more divergence than convergence. Xi Jinping appeared self-assured; the EU delegation emphasized clarity and unity – but left without substantive concessions. Abstract: The 25th EU-China Summit marked a symbolic milestone – 50 years of diplomatic relations – yet took place in an atmosphere of growing mistrust and confrontation. Geopolitical tensions, an ever-growing trade imbalance, and China’s ongoing support for Russia’s war in Ukraine dominated the agenda. The EU delegation, led by Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and Council President António Costa, sought to recalibrate the relationship and push for concrete outcomes, particularly in trade and global security. Yet Beijing showed little willingness to make concessions. Although both sides agreed on a climate communiqué and a mechanism to address export restrictions on critical raw materials, progress remained limited. China framed the summit as a platform for global cooperation, while the EU left with a renewed sense of caution. Still, the in-person dialogue – the first since 2023 – was seen as diplomatically necessary. For Brussels, the message was clear: without a shift in China’s geopolitical posture, especially towards Russia, meaningful improvement in relations remains elusive. 1. Background The fundamental importance of the relationship was repeatedly emphasized in the run-up to the summit; the EU and China account for nearly 30 percent of global trade in goods and services. Even though there was a slight decline in 2024, bilateral trade still amounted to over 700 billion euros. China is the EU’s second-largest trading partner after the United States.[1] At the same time, discordant tones have increased in recent years: the flooding of the European market with subsidized goods from China, the resulting growing trade imbalance between the two sides, the limitation of market access for European goods, as well as export restrictions on rare earths, are causing dissatisfaction on the European side. While Brussels initially proclaimed at the start of the first von der Leyen Commission that China was—depending on the topic—a partner, competitor, or rival, in recent years the focus has increasingly shifted to competition and rivalry—also due to concerns about excessive dependence on Beijing. The EU’s decision to impose countervailing duties on electric vehicles, in turn, triggered corresponding reactions from China. Politically as well, China’s de facto support for Russia in the war of aggression against Ukraine has significantly changed the EU’s perception of China over the past three years—not to mention concerns about China’s actions toward Taiwan, its support for authoritarian regimes around the world, and its attempts to increasingly shape and shift the discourse in multilateral organizations in its own favor. The statement made in June by Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi that China could not afford a Russian defeat, as this would mean that the USA and its Western allies would then turn their attention to Asia[2], reinforced the conviction in Brussels that China supports Russia in the conflict not only in words but also in deeds. Just a few days before the summit, the EU imposed sanctions on Chinese banks for violations of sanctions against Russia, to which China responded with threats of retaliatory measures.[3] In the weeks leading up to the summit, little suggested a resolution to these points of contention. The tougher stance taken by Washington toward both sides in recent months also did not lead to a reduction in dissonance. At the same time, the EU finds itself increasingly under pressure to navigate a balancing act between the strategic interests of the USA and China. China is courting with investments in favor of more “strategic autonomy,” while the USA is pushing for a hard line against Beijing, for example through export controls on critical raw materials. At the G7 summit in Canada, President von der Leyen accused China of using its dominance in raw materials as a weapon against competitors.[4] Beijing rejected the criticism. In Brussels, the fight against climate change is seen as the only somewhat consensual topic, although in the field of green tech—such as electric vehicles or photovoltaics—China is a competitor that challenges the EU. As the controversial vote on tariffs for electric vehicles also showed, EU member states are not always united when it comes to China.[5] Some primarily view China as an important economic partner, others struggle with China’s punitive tariffs, still others see the country as an authoritarian center of gravity that, through support for Russia or through cyberattacks, threatens their own security. Most recently, alongside Hungary—which has been regarded for years as one of Beijing’s closest partners in the EU—the socialist government of Spain also stood out with a charm offensive toward China. The difficulties in the relationship with China have prompted the EU—especially in the new legislative term—to noticeably diversify its economic and political foreign relations: directly before the EU-China summit, closer cooperation was agreed with Japan—also with the goal of reducing strategic dependence on China.[6] 2. Expectations for the Summit On the Chinese side, expectations for the summit were limited from the outset—at least in terms of making their own concessions. In its official communications, Beijing adopted an unusually sharp tone in the lead-up. The spokesperson of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Guo Jiakun, warned the EU not to harm the interests of Chinese companies. Otherwise, China would take measures to protect their rights. At the same time, Guo criticized the new EU sanctions against Russia, which also affect Chinese banks. The normal exchange between Chinese and Russian companies must not be disrupted. Beijing continues to reject the EU’s formula “partner, competitor, systemic rival”—as well as, from the Chinese perspective, unfounded accusations related to the war in Ukraine.[7] This clear defensive posture is also reflected in the public debate. In state-controlled social media, the summit was sometimes mockingly commented on in advance: the Europeans, it was said, would be begging for rare earths on their knees while a strong China benevolently dictated the rules of the game. This self-portrayal reflects a growing sense of self-confidence in Beijing—and at the same time sends a signal: China does not see itself as a supplicant, but as a shaper. Specifically, Beijing hopes for a withdrawal of the new EU import tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, for which, according to the Chinese side, they are in the final stages of “price negotiations.” From the perspective of European officials, however, the process has been stagnating for months. Further points of friction lie in China’s response to European sanctions—such as the recent imposition of punitive tariffs on French cognac and new restrictions on the procurement of medical equipment. The looming action against European milk and pork exports also fits into this pattern. At the same time, Beijing highlights the fruits of decades of cooperation: bilateral trade has grown from 2.4 billion to nearly 786 billion US dollars over the past 50 years, and mutual investments have reached nearly 260 billion. President Xi Jinping therefore called on the EU to maintain “open cooperation.” “Decoupling” or even “building walls” would only lead to isolation, he warned. China is therefore insisting on further market access in Europe—particularly in key areas such as automobile manufacturing, high-tech, and medical technology—and sees itself increasingly discriminated against by European protective measures. The preliminary reporting on the meeting in state media, however, was predictably conciliatory. The focus was primarily on powerful imagery, portraying China as a responsible actor on the global stage. In a report by the state news agency Xinhua shortly before the summit, it was stated that the meeting offered an opportunity to “consolidate the common interests of China and Europe in a time of global upheaval.” China Daily also struck a cooperative tone on July 24 and warned against endangering the relationship “through protectionist reflexes or foreign policy proxy conflicts.” Europe, the paper said literally, must decide whether it will “continue to make independent strategic decisions—or blindly follow Washington’s course.”[8] What remains unmentioned in China’s narrative is that many of these shared goals currently exist primarily on paper. Accusations regarding competition-distorting subsidies, China’s role in the war in Ukraine, or restrictions on European companies are at best dismissed as misunderstandings. From Beijing’s perspective, the summit appeared to be primarily a diplomatic showcase—rather than a venue for tangible rapprochement. 3. Expectations of the EU Whoever on the EU side may have expected major breakthroughs in light of the anniversary was likely disillusioned by early July at the latest: the reduction of the summit, originally scheduled for two days, to just a single day was an initial dampener; the statements from Chinese ministerial officials and top EU personnel in the weeks leading up to the summit did not suggest that anything fundamental would change regarding the divergences in foreign, economic, and trade policy. The EU is seeking a rebalancing of the relationship. According to Commission President von der Leyen ahead of the summit, the relationship had reached a turning point and now required concrete solutions. Among the EU’s top priorities in the economic sphere are: the rollback of China’s punitive tariffs, measures to reduce the massive trade deficit and counter the redirection of Chinese overcapacities toward the European market, the creation of a level playing field, and export licensing requirements for critical raw materials.[9] In the weeks prior to the summit, there were no signs of Chinese willingness to accommodate any of these demands. Expectations were equally low with regard to geopolitical conflicts, even though the EU’s High Representative had again clearly appealed to China in early July to end its support for Russia. Observers no longer expected a comprehensive joint communiqué ahead of the summit; at most, a joint statement on climate policy with regard to COP30 in Belém, Brazil, was still considered possible. The prevailing opinion: the primary goal was to contain the worsening of relations. Some observers still hoped for minor progress on economic issues. At least there were some diplomatic signals from Beijing in the run-up to the EU-China summit. For example, Mikko Huotari, Director of the German think tank Merics, was allowed to travel to China for the first time in four years. Merics had been subjected to a travel ban in 2021 as part of Chinese counter-sanctions against the EU over its human rights criticism regarding Xinjiang. The lifting of sanctions against individual (former) EU parliamentarians was also interpreted in Brussels as a positive political signal.[10] However, a full lifting of the sanctions is still pending, and travel currently remains possible only under certain conditions—such as by invitation from Chinese institutions, without a guarantee of academic freedom. Observers emphasized that these relaxations were “low-cost” concessions for China. 4. Outcomes of the Summit The low expectations ahead of the summit were at least not disappointed.[11] In their choice of words before and after the summit, both sides made efforts to maintain a respectful tone. Commission President von der Leyen and European Council President Costa did address the well-known critical issues (the need for concrete solutions to recalibrate trade relations, market access for European companies, an end to China’s material support for Russia’s war), but at the same time emphasized the immense importance of the relationship, the shared responsibility for a rules-based international order, and expressed respect for China’s tremendous achievements over the past years and decades.[12] Xi Jinping, on the other hand, did not directly address the divergences between the two sides at all, but instead highlighted the importance of mutual respect, the consolidation of cooperation, an open approach to differences of opinion, and collaboration at the multilateral level. Contrary to some particularly pessimistic forecasts, there were two reasonably concrete outcomes at the summit: First, a supply mechanism for rare earth exports is to be established in order to address supply issues faced by European companies. This would allow companies to contact the EU directly to clarify the causes of delayed exports of critical raw materials.[13] It remains unclear exactly what this mechanism will look like in practice. Second, both sides agreed on a communiqué on climate policy, in which both reaffirmed their cooperation in the climate sector, including on the reduction of greenhouse gases. The communiqué expresses support for the Paris Agreement and the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change. Both sides commit to fair and effective implementation in line with national circumstances. The goal is to advance a just global climate transformation, to support Brazil at COP30, and to improve global access to green technology. By COP30, both sides agreed to present new climate targets for 2035 and to expand cooperation in areas such as the energy transition, methane reduction, and low-carbon technologies.[14] Small steps forward were also made toward closer cooperation in emissions trading, the circular economy, financial regulation, drug control, and geographical indications. A new roadmap for regional policy (2024–2029) was adopted. On the sidelines of the summit, a roundtable was also held with around sixty representatives of European and Chinese companies. In its post-summit remarks, the EU expressed concern about China’s opaque data protection rules and cyberattacks. It also voiced concern about the situation in Xinjiang, Tibet, and Hong Kong, as well as the persecution of human rights defenders. Furthermore, the EU expressed concern about tensions in the Taiwan Strait and the East and South China Seas. It rejected any unilateral violent changes to the status quo and called for peaceful solutions in accordance with international law.[15] 5. Outlook Despite all divergences, the tone in public communication remained at least respectful. However, the summit yielded hardly any tangible progress—particularly in the trade issues central to Brussels. As expected, the EU departed without any concrete commitments. Whether the announced mechanism for rare earth exports will provide substantial added value remains to be seen. From the EU's perspective, the summit confirmed one thing above all: the increasingly skeptical—at times alarmed—view of China remains unchanged. Beijing showed no willingness to make substantial concessions. Instead, the Chinese leadership demonstrated confidence and conveyed the message that it need not act in advance toward a weakened Europe. At the same time, the EU succeeded in clearly articulating key concerns—particularly the expectation that Beijing should use its influence on Moscow to enable progress toward peace negotiations. The clear message: China’s relationship with Russia will play a decisive role in future EU-China relations. One positive aspect from Brussels’ point of view: the appearances of Commission President von der Leyen, Council President Costa, and Estonian Prime Minister Kallas came across as coherent and well-coordinated—an important signal of European unity in difficult times. In addition, according to von der Leyen, the Chinese leadership has begun to address domestic industrial overcapacities under the term “involution.” The latter was regarded as another positive development from a European perspective. Until now, Chinese representatives had consistently denied in talks that the massive overcapacities posed any problem, according to media reports from EU circles.[16] Now, President Xi Jinping and Premier Li Qiang have declared their intent to counteract this trend—against what they perceive as a destructive price war in sectors such as steel, electric mobility, and solar panels. The leadership uses the term “involution” to describe the increasingly intense competition caused by price dumping. Even though some observers hailed the joint climate communiqué as a success, from the EU’s perspective it should be clear: in the field of green tech, China causes massive market distortions through state subsidies and targeted industrial policy—with the goal of creating new global dependencies. Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly important that the summit took place. One must assume that the political system in China—similar to Russia or the Trump administration—functions like an echo chamber; that Xi Jinping likely hears little internal criticism. “That’s why it’s important that the EU leadership tells him directly where the shoe pinches,” emphasized Jörg Wuttke, longtime president of the European Chamber of Commerce.[17] At the same time, it speaks volumes about the state of the relationship when even the mere act of speaking with the EU’s second most important trading partner is regarded as a success of the summit. References[1] https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/eu-trade-relationships-country-and-region/countries-and-regions/china_en[2] Exclusive | China tells EU it does not want to see Russia lose its war in Ukraine: sources | South China Morning Post[3] Neue Russland-Sanktionen: China droht EU mit Gegenmaßnahmen | tagesschau.de[4] Präsidentin von der Leyen beim G7-Gipfel[5] https://www.kas.de/en/web/mned-bruessel/global-europe-illustrated/detail/-/content/global-europe-illustrated-eu-member-states-voting-on-tariffs-ev-china[6] AGENCE EUROPE - Faced with economic and security challenges, EU emphasises i...[7] Vgl. China.Table: EU-Gipfel: Pekinger Außenministerium schlägt härtere Töne an, 23.07.2025.[8] Link zu Chinadaily[9] Handelskonflikt: China verursacht Rohstoffkrise – Erste Firmen drosseln Produktion[10] Sanctioned German China expert visits Beijing in sign of easing restrictions | South China Morning Post[11] Andere Zusammenfassungen finden sich hier: https://agenceurope.eu/en/bulletin/article/13687/1 oder in diesem Thread: https://x.com/fbermingham/status/1948242830595391697[12] EU warns China to push Putin to end war as relations hit ‘inflection point’ – POLITICO, die Pressekonferenz ist auch hier zu finden: https://newsroom.consilium.europa.eu/permalink/264159 , https://newsroom.consilium.europa.eu/permalink/264160[13] EU-China-Gipfel: Probleme bei Seltenen Erden gelöst?[14] Joint EU-China press statement on climate[15] 25th EU-China summit - EU press release - Consilium[16] Vgl. China.Table: EU-China-Gipfel: Peking will gegen Überkapazitäten vorgehen, 25.07.2025.[17] Experte Wuttke über EU-China-Gipfel: "Xi will Europa dominieren"

Abstract The so-called Anglophone Caribbean has historically been an area of strategic importance for Cuban foreign policy. With more than half a century of history, Cuba-CARICOM ties constitute a successful example due to their comprehensiveness, strength, dynamism, and concrete results in terms of political coordination and cooperation. However, in a complex and changing international context, various elements constitute threats to the effective execution of Cuban foreign policy toward the subregion, mostly linked to structural difficulties facing Caribbean states and their integration into the international economy, as well as the effects of the blockade and the policy of economic suffocation implemented by the United States against Cuba, which has intensified with Trump's arrival as president. Likewise, there are opportunities that can be seized to preserve the privileged historical relationship that Cuba maintains with this subregional bloc. Introduction The Caribbean has historically been a region of strategic importance for Cuba's foreign policy, primarily because it constitutes its natural environment and setting, to which it belongs not only for geographical reasons but also due to historical and cultural ties. Cuba's connections with the so-called non-Hispanic Caribbean even predate the consolidation of the Cuban nation, considering the constant influence of intra-Caribbean migratory flows during the colonial era. This intensified with the massive arrival of laborers — mainly Haitians and Jamaicans — to the largest of the Antilles during the early decades of the 20th century, a migration flow that continued until the 1950s. Cuba shares with Caribbean nations a historical legacy linked to the tragic scourge of slavery, associated with the plantation economy. This involved, on one hand, the forced migration of a large African population, and on the other, a series of similar characteristics in terms of socio-economic structures — although the differences among the various European colonial powers present in the region should not be overlooked. After the triumph of the Cuban Revolution in 1959, Cuba's ties with the non-Hispanic Caribbean went through various phases, particularly since 1972, when four newly independent Caribbean nations (Barbados, Jamaica, Guyana, and Trinidad and Tobago) collectively decided to reestablish diplomatic relations with Cuba. This decision ignored the OAS agreements of July 1964, which had mandated the political, diplomatic, and economic severance of relations between the governments of the continent and the Island. It was during the 1990s and into the 21st century that the most solid foundations were laid for articulating a coherent, harmonious, and coordinated projection that acknowledges the real importance of the Caribbean subregion for the objectives of Cuban foreign policy. The results achieved thus far in terms of coordination, political dialogue, and cooperation have led several authors to describe Cuba's policy toward the Caribbean as one of the most dynamic and effective aspects of the Island’s foreign outreach in recent years. The aim of this paper is to provide an updated analysis of the Cuban government’s external projection toward the Caribbean, focusing on the threats and opportunities that, in the foreseeable future, may impact the country’s interactions with this subregion under the leadership of President Miguel Díaz-Canel Bermúdez. It is important to clarify that, from a methodological standpoint, this paper focuses primarily on the group of countries that make up the Caribbean Community (CARICOM), most of which are island nations, although three are located on the mainland (Belize, Guyana, and Suriname). As noted by scholar Milagros Martínez Reinosa in her work “Cuba’s Relations with the Caribbean,” this is a “group of nations with marked differences, determined by their respective geographic and population characteristics, by the colonial powers that divided up this part of the world, and by the unique socio-economic development of each. This group, in which the so-called English-speaking insular Caribbean predominates, includes (…) different economic systems and forms of political organization, with varying levels of development, economic potential, and geographic size” (Martínez, 2011, p. 203). Development Historical Analysis of Cuba’s Foreign Projection Toward the Caribbean It is well known that, in the historical period following the triumph of the Cuban Revolution, significant progress was made in the Caribbean’s decolonization processes. Gradually, and with particular characteristics in each case, several countries achieved independence: Jamaica (1962), Trinidad and Tobago (1962), Guyana (1966), Barbados (1966), The Bahamas (1973), Grenada (1974), and Suriname (1975). Later, others followed: Dominica (1978), Saint Vincent and the Grenadines (1979), Saint Lucia (1979), Belize (1981), Antigua and Barbuda (1981), and Saint Kitts and Nevis (1983). At the same time, the first steps were taken toward economic integration in the subregion, marked notably by the signing of the Treaty of Chaguaramas in 1973. This treaty established the Caribbean Community and set the goal of creating the Caribbean Common Market, both known by the acronym CARICOM. These agreements aimed to advance economic cooperation and integration, as well as to establish a degree of coordination in foreign policy among the governments of the member states. All of this laid the groundwork for building a subregional institutional framework, giving these small states greater negotiating power and the ability to act jointly, both within international organizations and within the Inter-American System itself. One of the most representative examples of the emerging political coordination among these countries was the previously mentioned establishment of diplomatic relations with Cuba by the governments of Barbados, Jamaica, Guyana, and Trinidad and Tobago in December 1972. This event marked the beginning of a new era in the foreign policy of the revolutionary Cuba, enabling cooperation and mutual support with the newly independent Caribbean states. However, in 1983, the U.S. invasion of Grenada — which was supported not only by the OAS but also by members of the Organization of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS), along with Barbados and Jamaica — somewhat deteriorated Cuba’s relations with the subregion. Beginning in the early 1990s, a new, more dynamic and productive period began in Cuba’s relations with the Caribbean. In 1993, the Cuba-CARICOM Joint Commission was established, and throughout the decade, Cuba gradually intensified its engagement with CARICOM member states — particularly following the creation, in 1994, of the Association of Caribbean States (ACS). This organization included all Caribbean island states, along with Central America, Mexico, Colombia, and Venezuela. The ACS provided a particularly favorable space for Cuba’s foreign policy outreach in the region, as it was outside the sphere of influence of the United States and offered conditions that allowed the Cuban government to assume a leadership role and promote a regional dynamic focused on cooperation. Cuba’s strategic projection toward the Caribbean reached a high point with the holding — at the initiative of the Cuban government — of the First CARICOM-Cuba Summit, held in Havana in December 2002, marking the 30th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations with Barbados, Guyana, Jamaica, and Trinidad and Tobago. At this historic meeting, attended by all CARICOM heads of government, common goals and guidelines were set to shape relations between Cuba and the subregional bloc. During the summit, a Trade and Economic Cooperation Agreement was signed —previously negotiated two years earlier during the Joint Commission meeting in Santiago de Cuba. The agreement aimed to promote trade in goods and services, establish financial arrangements to facilitate commerce, encourage market access, foster the creation of joint ventures, protect investments, and promote information exchange. This agreement was later updated in 2006 to reflect new economic and commercial realities. From that point on, the Cuban Ministry of Foreign Affairs began implementing the so-called Comprehensive Caribbean Plan (PIC, in Spanish), which integrated all actions directed toward the region with the explicit goal of contributing to the fundamental objectives of Cuba’s foreign policy (Martínez, 2011, p. 217). In the years immediately following, ties were rapidly strengthened at the highest levels, both bilaterally and with CARICOM. Some have described as an “avalanche” the large number of official visits to Cuba by Caribbean heads of government between 2002 and 2005 (the year of the Second CARICOM-Cuba Summit), reflecting the success of Cuba’s political-diplomatic outreach in the region and the high priority the Caribbean had acquired in its foreign policy agenda. This period also saw a sustained increase in Cuban cooperation in areas such as health, education, sports, culture, and more. At the Third Summit, held in 2008, cooperation was reaffirmed as the central and leading element in Cuba’s intergovernmental relations with the Caribbean, with expanded and deepened assistance across a wide range of fields —many of them supported by the Bolivarian Government of Venezuela. At the same time, the emergence of political coordination and cooperation initiatives such as ALBA-TCP and Petrocaribe — and the subsequent inclusion of some CARICOM countries in the former — multiplied opportunities for interaction, political alignment, and regional coordination. Similarly, both sides have maintained close coordination in various international forums, including the UN General Assembly, UNCTAD, WIPO, UNIDO, FAO, WTO, the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), the G-77+China, and the Alliance of Small Island States (AOSIS). This international collaboration has been strengthened by the clear political will and the ability of both parties to resolve differences constructively. CARICOM’s solidarity with Cuba has been particularly notable in its unanimous stance against the U.S. embargo. To date, eight CARICOM-Cuba Summits have been held, the most recent one taking place in Barbados, attended by Cuban President Miguel Díaz-Canel Bermúdez. On that occasion, he also made an official visit to Barbados and toured two other countries —Saint Vincent and the Grenadines and Grenada. According to recent figures, there are currently more than 850 Caribbean scholarship students in Cuba, with over 6,000 having graduated. Additionally, more than 2,000 Cuban professionals are currently providing services in CARICOM countries. Cuba’s Foreign Projection Toward the Caribbean in the Current Context: Threats and Opportunities For Cuba, maintaining strong relations with CARICOM remains a priority. From a political standpoint, it is strategically important to preserve a close and positive relationship with the countries that make up this subregional organization, as they often achieve high levels of consensus on key international issues. As a relatively large bloc in terms of membership, this often translates into an equal number of votes in international organizations. This is particularly relevant considering the transformations the international system has undergone in the 21st century — marked by the gradual decline of U.S. global leadership, the emergence of an increasingly multipolar world, the shift of economic and commercial dynamism toward the Asia-Pacific region, and the growing influence of new information technologies, among other factors. These changes pose significant challenges to the Cuban government’s foreign outreach and have also influenced the implementation of U.S. foreign policy in the region, on one hand, on curbing the progress of resistance movements to its model of regional domination, and on the other, on trying to counter the growing influence of extra-regional powers in the hemisphere. Currently, all independent Caribbean states maintain diplomatic missions in Havana, and Cuba does the same in each of those countries. This makes Cuba a key and prominent actor in the region and highlights the importance CARICOM member states place on their relationship with Cuba. Within the Caribbean Community there is a strong consensus on condemning the U.S. embargo and recognizing Cuba’s cooperation efforts — reflected in joint declarations across both global and regional multilateral organizations. However, economic relations between Cuba and CARICOM have significantly lagged the levels achieved in the political and cooperation spheres. Despite the existence of a Trade and Economic Cooperation Agreement that includes broad tariff preferences (ALADI, 2011), trade volumes remain very low and are highly concentrated in a few countries —such as Trinidad and Tobago ($57.9 million), Jamaica ($3.2 million), Guyana ($507,000), and Suriname ($84,000). Altogether, total trade amounts to approximately $61 million (National Office of Statistics and Information—ONEI, 2024, pp. 233–236). The underdevelopment of economic ties is not primarily due to a lack of willingness on either side to implement coordinated actions but rather stems from more complex causes related to the economic structures of Caribbean islands and how they are integrated into the global economy. It is also important to consider that both Cuba and most CARICOM members are classified as Small Island Developing States (SIDS), a condition that presents shared development challenges. Factors such as limited economic and geographic size, high levels of openness and dependence on the international economy, low diversification, transportation and connectivity issues, and high exposure to the effects of climate change and extreme weather events, among others, represent significant obstacles to the development of multifaceted ties between Cuba and the Caribbean — particularly in the area of economic and trade relations (Laguardia, 2022, p. 179). Threats The arrival of the Republican administration led by Donald Trump to the U.S. government undoubtedly represents a threat to Cuba’s relations with the Caribbean and, more broadly, to its foreign projection toward the region. The appointment of controversial figures closely linked to the anti-Cuban far-right in the U.S. — such as Marco Rubio and Mauricio Claver-Carone as Secretary of State and Head of Latin American and Caribbean Affairs at the State Department, respectively — forecasts an extremely difficult scenario for Cuba. This will greatly hinder the long-sought development of economic and trade ties with CARICOM, due to the tightening of the blockade, the potential implementation of additional unilateral measures, and Cuba’s reinstatement on the list of State Sponsors of Terrorism. It is undeniable that the blockade — significantly reinforced in recent years and expanded in its extraterritorial reach — currently stands as one of the major obstacles to elevating Cuba-CARICOM economic relations to the same level as their political ties. This remains a clear objective within Cuba’s foreign policy approach to the region. Broadly speaking, the blockade and the aggressive U.S. policy prevent Cuba from operating under normal conditions in the international market by limiting access to credit and financing, disrupting financial operations, reducing export revenues, and creating an intimidating environment for potential foreign investors. All these factors have worsened the Island’s economic crisis and intensified issues such as declining export capacity and foreign currency shortages, directly impacting Cuba’s trade with the rest of the world, including the Caribbean. These challenges are compounded by logistical limitations that hinder intra-Caribbean trade. Furthermore, the lack of mutual understanding of institutional and bureaucratic systems remains a significant barrier to expanding economic ties (Marín, Martínez, & Laguardia, 2024). Nonetheless, even under current complex conditions, there are still possibilities and spaces to develop broader and deeper economic relations, based on the principle of identifying areas of complementarity and leveraging mutual strengths and opportunities. In this regard, the internationally recognized scientific achievements of Cuba’s biotechnology and pharmaceutical sectors, along with a wide catalog of high-quality, advanced technology products, offer a valuable opportunity to increase exports to the region while also strengthening the healthcare systems of CARICOM countries. Additionally, other biotech products developed by Cuban companies and institutions —applicable in agriculture and livestock — could contribute to CARICOM’s efforts to achieve greater levels of food sovereignty. Likewise, the emerging private sector of small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) in Cuba has gained increasing importance in the national economy, particularly in foreign trade, and shows strong potential to help boost commercial exchange and business between Cuba and the Caribbean nations. On the other hand, another threat to Cuba’s foreign projection toward the region —particularly regarding the development of its economic relations — comes from the financial limitations caused by the inclusion of several Caribbean states on blacklists of tax havens, as well as their classification as middle-income countries. This classification prevents them from applying for development aid and other preferential financing. All of this adds to the challenges Cuba already faces because of the U.S. blockade. Another significant threat is the intensification of the effects of climate change, particularly the increasing occurrence of extreme weather events. These phenomena damage ecosystems and biodiversity, destroy agriculture, reduce tourism revenues, contribute to food insecurity, damage infrastructure, and create a constant need for budgetary spending and public debt, among other harmful impacts. Also, we also consider as a threat, — particularly over the past decade — the decline of Venezuela’s economic capacity to meet the energy demands of CARICOM countries and to support other cooperation projects in the Caribbean, especially under initiatives such as ALBA-TCP and Petrocaribe, in which Cuba played an important role. Additionally, there is the ongoing conflict over the Essequibo region, where there is strong consensus among CARICOM countries in support of Guyana’s position. This places Cuba in a complex position regarding how to approach the issue — an issue also used by the United States to exert pressure on Venezuela. Compounding this is the campaign promoted by the U.S. and its regional allies against the government of President Nicolás Maduro in the context of the Venezuelan elections and his inauguration, which has triggered a wide-ranging political, diplomatic, and propaganda offensive. While some Caribbean states have aligned with U.S. positions, it is worth noting that the majority have remained outside of this campaign. For CARICOM member states, the United States remains the primary “provider” of security. The need for cooperation and coordination in security matters with the U.S. is undeniable, especially given shared challenges such as cross-border criminal flows, the Caribbean’s status as the U.S. “third border,” economic dependency, and the need for aid and financing among CARICOM countries. This power asymmetry means that the U.S. uses security as a tool of pressure, which represents a constant threat to Cuba’s relations with the bloc — particularly under the new U.S. administration, which has prioritized migration and drug trafficking and embraces Monroe Doctrine-style views regarding inter-American relations. Another threat we identify is the weakening of regional mechanisms such as the ACS. Despite Cuba’s consistent efforts, the ACS has largely failed to meet its founding objectives since its establishment in 1994: to create a common economic space, preserve the Caribbean Sea, and promote the sustainable development of its member states – although there have been some positive experiences in cooperation on climate change mitigation and disaster risk prevention. Opportunities One key opportunity lies in the development of close coordination and the building of broad consensus on issues of shared interest and broader relevance on the multilateral agenda. This applies both within United Nations bodies and forums, as well as in platforms like the G77+China and the NAM. These spaces have demonstrated mutual support for various common demands and proposals, including: reparations for slavery; the principle of common but differentiated responsibilities regarding climate change; the reform of financing eligibility criteria; the Bridgetown Initiative as a proposal for reforming the global financial architecture; the lifting of the U.S. blockade on Cuba; recognition of Cuba’s international cooperation — particularly in the health sector; and the removal of Cuba from the U.S. list of State Sponsors of Terrorism, among others. Another ongoing opportunity for Cuba’s foreign policy projection lies in its respectful and diplomatic engagement, which has allowed Cuba to act as a political and diplomatic bridge between the Caribbean and the rest of Latin America. This role facilitates relationships that remain limited due to differing political and communicational frameworks, as well as stark economic asymmetries. This bridging role has been particularly evident in the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States (CELAC), where Cuba’s efforts supported the inclusion of a permanent CARICOM representative in the organization's leadership troika and ensured the incorporation of Caribbean concerns in CELAC’s joint declarations and statements. Another external opportunity is the growing interest of global powers and extra-regional actors in the Caribbean, most notably the People’s Republic of China. China has vast potential in economic and trade relations with the region, especially considering that CARICOM countries offer several attributes attractive to Chinese investors. China’s high demand for Caribbean products has driven its interest not only in production but also in developing transport infrastructure across the region to secure supply chains and reduce costs. In this context, the membership of Cuba and several Caribbean nations in the Belt and Road Initiative presents both an advantage and an opportunity. Cuba maintains a strong, strategic, high-level political and diplomatic relationship with China and can be considered as China’s principal ally in the region. This places Cuba in a unique position to play an important role in expanding China’s political engagement with CARICOM, particularly given that five CARICOM countries — Saint Lucia, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Belize, and Haiti — still maintain diplomatic ties with Taiwan. In other words, Cuba could further leverage its privileged relationships with both parties to continue fostering political rapprochement, help expand economic and trade links with the subregion, and participate in various development projects with Chinese capital through a triangular cooperation. In this framework, Cuba can contribute with its expertise, knowledge, and highly qualified human capital in fields where many Caribbean nations lack capacity. At the same time, Cuba’s admission as an associate member of the BRICS represents an opportunity that opens promising prospects for cooperation, investment, and access to financing — within a framework that promotes a multipolar vision of the world, composed of several of the largest and most dynamic economies on the planet. In addition to its strategic geographic location as the “Key to the Gulf,” which facilitates access to major markets in Latin America and the Caribbean, Cuba can contribute to BRICS with an influential and privileged political relationship with Caribbean countries, built over 50 years. This could help foster a strategic partnership between BRICS and the Caribbean. Likewise, Cuba’s historical cooperation ties and its high-level political and diplomatic dialogue with the African bloc — as well as with other countries of the so-called Global South — also represent an opportunity, as they can help bridge the Caribbean with these extra-regional actors, enabling coordination on common positions in multilateral arenas and fostering economic ties. In the case of Africa, CARICOM has aimed in recent years to strengthen relations with the continent, starting with the first summit between both blocs held virtually in 2021. This goal is clearly reflected in the signing of a Partnership Agreement by 12 of the 15 CARICOM member states with the African Export-Import Bank (Afreximbank), which has approved over $1.5 billion in investments for the Caribbean (Afreximbank, 2024). Moreover, cooperation between Cuba and CARICOM still offers a wide range of untapped opportunities, aligned with the specific needs and advantages of each party. As previously mentioned, Cuba has a highly skilled human workforce that can benefit the region. In this regard, triangular cooperation becomes a key mechanism for accessing funding from governmental and multilateral sources. The growing interest in the Caribbean by various powers — both Western and non-Western — also represents an opportunity to attract resources for key areas such as climate change mitigation, energy transition, and digitalization, where Cuba can participate with its trained professionals and developed capabilities (Marín, Martínez, & Laguardia, 2024, p. 10). Conclusions Cuba–CARICOM relations, with more than half a century of history, stand as a successful example of strategic comprehensiveness, coherence, and tangible achievements in political and cooperation matters. However, they still face the challenge of producing similar results in the economic and trade sphere, where progress has been limited. The main obstacles to achieving this goal are linked to the structural conditions and constraints of Caribbean economies and their integration into the global economy, as well as to the effects of the U.S. blockade and the economic strangulation policies implemented against Cuba. The worsening of Cuba’s economic crisis — driven by the tightening of the blockade, the imposition of new sanctions, and its continued inclusion on the State Sponsors of Terrorism list under a likely more aggressive policy by the new U.S. administration — poses a threat to the achievement of Cuba’s goals in the Caribbean. At the same time, the positive outlook generated by Cuba’s admission as an associate member of the BRICS presents an opportunity to develop a possible strategic alliance between the bloc and the Caribbean — supported by the privileged, trusting, and cooperative relationship that Cuba has built with Caribbean countries over more than 50 years. Cooperation has been the cornerstone of Cuba’s relations with the Caribbean, and despite challenges, it has remained intentional and prioritized. However, more efforts should be made to leverage other areas in which Cuba possesses expertise and highly qualified human capital. The potential of triangular cooperation, along with the growing interest of key international actors in the Caribbean, could represent a valuable opportunity for Cuba to maintain and expand its cooperation efforts in the region. References Cabrera Agudo, M. (2011). Las políticas de seguridad de CARICOM en torno al crimen trasnacional organizado: incidencia de los intereses estadounidenses de seguridad nacional (2001-2011). Buenos Aires: CLACSO.Cabrera Agudo, M. (2013). La concertación política en el marco de CARICOM: focos de ruptura y espacios para la construcción de consensos. Cuadernos del Caribe, 16(1), 67-79.Caribbean Community Secretariat. (2022). Annual Report of the Secretary-General 2022. Guyana.CARICOM Secretariat. (2014). Strategic Plan for the Caribbean Community 2015–2019: Repositioning CARICOM. Turkeyen, Guyana.Departamento de Estado de Estados Unidos. (2020). U.S. Strategy for Engagement in the Caribbean. Caribbean 2020: A Multi-Year Strategy To Increase the Security, Prosperity, and Well-Being of the People of the United States and the Caribbean. Recuperado de: https://www.state.gov/u-s-strategy-for-engagement-in-the-caribbean/Departamento de Estado de Estados Unidos. (5 de julio de 2023). Secretary Blinken’s Remarks at the CARICOM Plenary. Recuperado de: https://2021-2025.state.gov/secretary-antony-j-blinken-at-the-caricom-plenary/Departamento de Estado de Estados Unidos. (febrero de 2025). Integrated Country Strategies (países miembros de CARICOM). Recuperado de: https://2021-2025.state.gov/office-of-foreign-assistance/integrated-country-strategies/Departamento de Estado de Estados Unidos. (16 de noviembre de 2023). Cooperación entre EE. UU. y el Caribe para detener el tráfico de armas de fuego. Recuperado de: https://2021-2025.state.gov/translations/spanish/cooperacion-entre-ee-uu-y-el-caribe-para-detener-el-trafico-de-armas-de-fuego/Departamento de Estado de Estados Unidos. (1 de marzo de 2024). Compromiso entre Estados Unidos y el Caribe (traducción al español). Recuperado de: https://2021-2025.state.gov/translations/spanish/compromiso-entre-estados-unidos-y-el-caribe/Díaz Vázquez, J. (2017). Las relaciones económicas de China con los países del Caribe. En J. Laguardia Martínez (Ed.), Cuba en sus relaciones con el resto del Caribe. Continuidades y rupturas tras el restablecimiento de las relaciones diplomáticas entre Cuba y los Estados Unidos (pp. 243-256). Buenos Aires: CLACSO.García Lorenzo, T. (2005). La economía y la integración de la comunidad del Caribe: Encuentros y desencuentros (Tesis doctoral). Universidad de La Habana.Girvan, N. (2012). El Caribe, dependencia, integración y soberanía. Santiago de Cuba: Editorial Oriente.Girvan, N. (2017). El pensamiento de la Dependencia en el Caribe Anglófono. En F. Valdés García (Ed.), Antología del pensamiento crítico caribeño contemporáneo (pp. 459-499). Buenos Aires: CLACSO.Griffith, I. (1997). El narcotráfico como una cuestión de seguridad en el Caribe. En P. Milet (Ed.), Paz y Seguridad en las Américas. Chile: FLACSO.Griffith, I. (2002). Security, Sovereignty, and Public Order in the Caribbean. Security and Defense Studies Review, 1-18.Laguardia Martínez, J. (2022). La IX Cumbre de las Américas y su impacto en el Caribe. VII Conferencia de Estudios Estratégicos.Laguardia, J., Marín, C., & Martínez, M. (2024). 50 años de relaciones Cuba – CARICOM: avances, retos y posibilidades. Cuadernos del pensamiento crítico latinoamericano, CLACSO.Oficina Nacional de Estadística e Información (ONEI). (2024). Anuario Estadístico de Cuba 2023. Edición 2024. La Habana.Regueiro, L., & Marín, C. (2023). Consensos y disensos en la Política Exterior de CARICOM. Caribes, (9), 8-32.Romero, A. (2016). Los desafíos de la reconfiguración regional. Anuario de Integración, 65-85.Sanders, R. (2022). US-Caribbean Relations in Biden Administration. Florida: Kimberly Green Latin American and Caribbean Center, FIU.Suárez Salazar, L. (2019). Cuba y Estados Unidos en el Caribe insular y continental: misiones en conflicto. En N. López Castellanos (Ed.), Geopolítica e integración en el Gran Caribe. Alcances y desafíos (pp. 167-187). México: UNAM.Suárez Salazar, L. (2021). Presentación y Prefacio del libro: Revolución Cubana. Algunas miradas críticas y descolonizadas. Revista Política Internacional, 160-168.Suárez Salazar, L., & García Lorenzo, T. (2008). Las relaciones interamericanas: continuidades y cambios. CLACSO.

Abstract Recent changes in US foreign policy and strategic posture have forced Europe to think about meeting its security needs without US support. One issue that requires a particular focus is the question of how to deter and defend against Russia in a conventional war. This article attempts a high-level assessment of European military capability and considers whether existing military doctrine is adequate. It argues that Europe should maintain its focus on NATO’s manoeuvrist mode of war fighting and identifies key capability gaps that need to be filled for (a) a coalition of the willing and (b) Europe as a whole to be able to fight in this way. It cautions against an unduly defensive, attritional method of fighting, based on conscript armies, as playing to Russia’s strengths instead of our own. Introduction War has come back to Europe and so has the need to think about how to fight it. Between 24 February 2022 and 21 January 2024, we put the need to rethink our defence to one side, because the Biden administration allowed us the luxury of being able to repurpose Cold War institutions (most obviously NATO), deterrence and habits to support Ukraine and dissuade Russia from another overt attack. This was a mixed blessing, because while it saved us the need to put our societies and economies on a war footing, it also blinded us to the need to build something new. The old system was not the best to contend with Russia’s aggression. While the US had only half an eye on Europe—with the rest of its focus on China—Western Europeans continued to free-ride on American resources. Neither Germany’s Zeitenwende, nor the aspersion cast by Emanuel Macron that ‘NATO is brain-dead’ (Macron 2019) translated into larger defence budgets, increased orders for ammunition, the conversion of civilian manufacturing to military use or the running of plants in shifts to replenish stockpiles. Only the Nordics, Baltics and Poland really moved to a war footing, and even their restructuring suffered from a desire, exposed as wishful thinking by Trump’s victory in November 2024, to keep the US involved. Now, with the US being led by an unstable pro-Russian Donald Trump and an anti-European JD Vance, the choice has been made for us. Steps are already being taken to prepare Europe’s industrial base, whether it is the creation of a European defence commissioner, Germany’s removal of its debt brake or initiatives such as the EU’s proposed Security Action for Europe (SAFE) financing instrument. But our political elite also needs to educate itself beyond these industrial and economic matters. War has once again become an essential part of what every responsible political leader needs to know. As it had been until 1945, if not 1989, some understanding of the military arts has, unfortunately, again become indispensable for European statespeople. This article will start by outlining certain concepts to help inform our debate about how we defend ourselves against Russia. It will relate them to the state of our military equipment, and pose questions about how we should fight with what we have, and how we should make more of what we need to fight in the way that gives us the maximum advantage over Russia. It will ask what elements of the existing NATO way of war should be kept, and which ought to be replaced, as a new European way of war—a European ‘doctrine’—is developed. And it will identify the key gaps in capability that need to be filled to apply such a doctrine in two scenarios: one where most of Europe confronts Russia (excluding neutrals, such as Ireland or Austria; potentially hostile states, such as Hungary and Slovakia; and Greece and Turkey, which deploy military resources to deter a conflict between themselves), and another where the burden is taken up by a coalition of the willing. This coalition is drawn up narrowly to constitute the Nordic–Baltic Eight (NB8),1 the UK, Poland and Ukraine. Other countries, for example, Czechia and the Netherlands, would currently be considered part of this coalition, but their contributions have, conservatively, been excluded for the purpose of this assessment. This article does not assume that the European military effort should replicate the American one (for the cost of replication, see Wolff 2025). Instead it seeks to assess how Europe would deter and defeat Russia in ways that exploit our advantages against the Russian military. We do not need to replace the Americans one-for-one, but nor should we replicate Russia’s relatively low-technology and low-skill warfare. That would be to give up the strongest advantages our free and technologically advanced societies provide. Centre of gravity The first concept we need to outline is the ‘centre of gravity’: the phrase, whose application to war we owe to Clausewitz (1918, 270), refers to that feature of a belligerent that will cause it to change its behaviour when subject to pressure. The aim of military strategy, he argued, was not necessarily the destruction of the enemy’s forces, still less their population, but the application of force to their centre of gravity in order to achieve your war aim. With this in view, the most important question for European military planners is, where is Putin’s, or Russia’s, centre of gravity? This question will occupy our strategists’ minds for the foreseeable future: its answer includes determining whether it is Putin, or some other group in the Russian elite, such as the military, energy producers or business oligarchs, on whom pressure should be applied, and if so what pressure is required. Under what conditions would Putin sue for peace, or be replaced by someone who would, if Russia extended its war to conventional military aggression against Europe? Only once these conditions have been identified, is it then relevant to ask how they might be brought about. This consideration of centre of gravity begs an important question: how is Russia to be deterred from attacking Europe? How can sufficiently severe consequences be imposed on Russia, bearing in mind that the loss of almost 400 aircraft (Minfin.com.ua 2025) and several thousand tanks, and close to a million men killed and wounded have not been enough to push Putin to retreat from Ukraine? It is, however, necessary to pose this question, because there is a temptation to avoid it by focusing on ‘deterrence by denial’. This idea would be to defend ourselves in the manner in which the Chinese are thought to defend themselves against the US: by preventing US forces from landing in China by attacking its large, expensive ships. This does not apply to the Russian case for two reasons: first, Russia is willing to sacrifice men and equipment in human-wave assaults; the only equipment it seems to have decided to preserve is its air force. Second, Russia has a land border with Europe, so it does not need to attack using small numbers of vulnerable ships. Denial is extremely difficult against human-wave attacks, as US forces found in Korea, and Iraqis found in the Iran–Iraq war when revolutionary Iran employed them. (See Meyer zum Felde 2024 for a deterrence by denial–focused approach.) Order of battle A second concept is the ‘order of battle’: what are the forces arranged on either side of a conflict and how do they measure up to each other? As well as military units, it is worthwhile also considering the broader elements of societal strength—economic, political and cultural—that each side has, and how these contribute to the war effort. For example, our open societies leave us more vulnerable to hybrid attacks and disinformation, but on the other hand supply great strength and flexibility. Democratic societies do not wait for the government to tell them what to do, but organise social defence in ways that dictatorships find more difficult; the market economy possesses enormous flexibility that centrally planned systems do not; and an entrepreneurial can-do culture can also produce superior military performance through the concept of ‘mission command’ (see below). But the first question is who would be fighting? Sometimes pieces are written as if it would only be Britain and France confronting Russia (Barker et al. 2025), but borders have shifted since the Cold War: Eastern Europe, including the highly capable Polish and Finnish militaries, as well, of course, as Europe’s strongest army, Ukraine’s, would be arrayed against Moscow, not operating under its orders. Europe’s total military-age population is considerably greater than Russia’s. If Austria, Hungary, Ireland and Slovakia are excluded for political reasons, and Greece and Turkey as well, because they will wish to preserve resources in case a conflict breaks out between them, ‘Europe’ has 89.5 million military-age men and 88 million military-age women, compared to Russia’s 31 million military-age men and 33 million military-age women.2 The question of how such forces are recruited and generated, particularly in the economically more successful parts of Europe, is of course relevant, but the sheer capacity to provide sufficient personnel is not in doubt. It is useful to consider the matter of mobilisation. Russia was in transition from a conscript to a professional army when it launched its attack on Ukraine. It still mobilises 160,000 men per year, mostly to fill rearguard positions and free up front-line deployment for professional troops. This is equivalent to 17% of the annual cohort of young men.3 Europe (as defined above) could generate similar forces without much difficulty. A one-year cohort of the European population includes 2.7 million men and 2.5 million women. Even if it limited itself to calling up men, it would only need to recruit 6% of the population. Such a number would be feasible with a voluntary reserve service programme, and would not require universal conscription. Considering the countries most at risk of Russian aggression, and most likely to need to defend against it, presents a starker picture. The NB8 plus Poland and the UK between them have an annual cohort of 7.7 million men and 7.3 million women. If the male population of these countries took part in military service at the same rate as Russians, this would generate 130,000 personnel, requiring an additional 30,000 female personnel to match Russian numbers. This would require a female reserve participation rate of 4%, which is an achievable figure. For example, at least 25% of Norway’s annual conscription quota comprises women. Despite a recent surge in calls to reintroduce universal military service in Europe, this is not necessarily advisable in all countries. Training a large cohort of conscripts takes resources away from exercises and advanced training for professional officers. While it may be justified for small nations on the front line, it is not the best use of resources for larger countries. The required manpower needs can in most cases be met by a selective reserve system. European stocks of platforms (as distinct from ammunition stocks, which are dangerously low) are also not outrageously out of balance with the requirement for a mission against Russia, though this is partly due to Ukraine’s destruction of Russian equipment since 2022. The following (table 1) compares stocks of fighter jets, main battle tanks and artillery pieces across several groups of European countries (some including Ukraine) versus Russia. This analysis is necessarily somewhat crude, as it excludes infantry fighting vehicles, mortars and other equipment. It also completely sets aside analysis of naval forces. Its fighter aircraft figures comprise fourth-generation fighters, old fighters (predating the fourth generation or the Warsaw Pact) and F35s.4 Finally, these figures do not take future production (either European or Russian) or the evolution of land and air drones into account (International Institute for Strategic Studies 2024).   Source: International Institute for Strategic Studies (2024). Note: This table compares the main platforms (fighter jets, main battle tanks and artillery pieces, including rocket artillery) that various European countries have at their disposal. Countries are placed in different categories and then compared against Russia. Each category also appears in two variants: one including Ukraine, and one that does not include Ukrainian forces. The ‘NB8+ coalition’ is the NB8 plus the UK and Poland. Non-neutral Europe means EU members plus the UK and Norway, but minus Ireland, Austria, Hungary and Slovakia. Using this table one can see, for example, that the NB8+ coalition has 542 fewer fighter jets at its disposal than Russia but essentially the same number of main battle tanks. With the exception of the scenario in which only the NB8+ coalition and Ukraine face off against Russia, Europe currently has approximately the required numbers of platforms to resist a Russian attack (bearing in mind a deficit in artillery pieces if Ukraine is not included). This leads to the following conclusions: • Ukraine needs to be considered an integral part of European defence against Russia, and its defeat would allow Russia to focus its forces on EU territory.• The coalition faces a notable air-power shortage in confronting Russia. While it has enough planes to deter Russian use of its aerospace, it does not have sufficient equipment to attempt to establish air superiority.• At an overall European level the priority should not be buying new platforms. Platform acquisition should be part of any rearmament plan, but priorities should be determined by the specific needs of a campaign against Russia, with importance given to filling the key gaps needed to conduct such a campaign. Platforms, ammunition and network-centric warfare The analysis above is only a first approximation of military strength. It considers only equipment and mobilisation potential, rather than force generation, and concentrates on land and air forces, setting aside the navy because a Euro-Russian conventional war would largely be fought on land. (The air force calculations do include naval aviation equipment, however, as these could be brought to bear). It also deals only with the main ‘platforms’: main battle tanks, fighter planes and artillery pieces, ignoring armoured personnel carriers and infantry fighting vehicles, engineering and support equipment, and, most importantly, ammunition. Simply replicating Russian numbers of platforms without considering communications, software and unmanned systems risks equipping ourselves to fight the last war (Tallis 2025). The spectrum that runs between a platform, which serves to move weapons systems into a place where they can be fired, and a piece of ammunition, fired from a platform, is another dimension of analysis. For example, during the Second World War the distinction was clear: an artillery shell was ammunition; an artillery piece a platform. But how should one categorise a cruise missile, which could be launched from a plane (so it appears to be ammunition launched from a platform), or directly from land, in which case it could arguably be a platform on its own? What is the difference between a cruise missile and a long-range drone? The war in Ukraine has seen the rapid development of short-range single-use drones that behave, in some ways, like super-intelligent artillery shells; and actual shells have incorporated guidance systems, and even propulsion systems, so that they have become what are known as ‘loitering munitions’. The point here is that strength is not just measured by platforms, but by the things that can be delivered to the battlefield with them (or independently of them), and an assessment of military strength needs to include an understanding of stocks of ammunition, the ability to replenish it and to fire it at where it is needed. This brings us to the idea of networks. War has always given the advantage to the side that could bring force to bear in a coordinated fashion while itself avoiding being the target of a coordinated enemy attack. The latest iteration of this is known as ‘network-centric warfare’, which, in its ideal form, means that every participant in the battle, from planes and ships all the way down to individual soldiers and drones can observe the ‘battlespace’ and communicate information about it to the right layer of command. Using this information, commanders, assisted by artificial intelligence, can decide where ‘effect’ is to be concentrated to bring about maximum damage to the enemy, more quickly than it can cause damage. This capability is not necessarily confined to the most expensive high-tech armies. Ukraine has shown how off-the-shelf electronic components can be added to existing systems to improve them (for example, to allow its artillery to concentrate fire on a single target despite the artillery systems themselves being dispersed). Precision If in the popular imagination precision weapons are used mainly to reduce collateral damage (and this was indeed their main use during the campaigns against terrorist groups in the first two decades of this century), in high-intensity war their advantage is that they conserve resources and time. Even if an individual precision artillery shell is more expensive, it is more useful to be able to use one or two guided shells to hit a target than 30 or 40 unguided ones. Not only is less ammunition used, but fewer troops are needed to operate it, and the wear and tear on the artillery pieces is considerably less. Precision results in greater ‘effect’ from the inputs to the process. Though sometimes presented as its opposite, precision should be understood as a way of delivering ‘mass’; this concept, also from Clausewitz (1918, 98), refers to the quantity of force that can be brought to bear against an enemy at a particular time. It matters because fighting is not a continuous linear process where the amount of force one applies has an effect in proportion to its quantity—in war having more power at one place at the right time means you will win the battle and the enemy will be weaker for the next one. The slightly stronger force can often inflict damage on the weaker one in a way that is disproportionate to the difference in their strength. To take a simple example for the purposes of illustration, suppose we start with 100 tanks, and so do they. Thanks to our commander’s skill we are able to concentrate 50 of our tanks against 40 of theirs. We lose 10 tanks, they lose 35. Now we have 90 tanks, they have 65. In this example our ability to get those extra 10 tanks in the right place has given us an advantage that can be pressed further in the next battle. It is these facts that underpin the approach that NATO, and the West more broadly, has applied to fighting. Although Western democracies have been able, due to their superior economic systems and technological advantage, to outproduce their enemies, winning a war of attrition is not where they consider their advantage to come from. Instead they emphasise their speed of movement and thought, and their ability to confuse their enemies, tricking them into dividing or misdirecting their forces, and then pouncing at the right moment; this is the ‘manoeuvrist’ creed of war, in which we fight smart and overcome the enemy by more than brute force. It is important not to draw the distinction between attrition and manoeuvre too crudely. Manoeuvre warfare is easier when you have more and better kit, and your leaders are informed by better intelligence obtained through technological as well as human sources. It also takes advantage of the characteristics of free societies. Manoeuvre warfare is strengthened by ‘mission command’: the notion that subordinate officers are given the ability to decide exactly how to fulfil their orders. This gives Western militaries a flexibility that is absent from the armies of dictatorships, in which such freedom is rarely granted,5 but of course this depends on officers and soldiers being sufficiently well-trained, and possessing a good enough level of general education, to operate independently. It is the best way for us, as free and well-educated peoples, to fight—it is not necessarily the best for everyone. A manoeuvrist force, is, as the name suggests, on the move. It is constantly advancing, communicating its changing position, attempting to bypass and confuse the enemy. It operates at a high tempo in order to overwhelm the enemy mentally as well as physically, and the ability to sustain this type of fighting informs training, equipment command and intelligence: ‘the key to winning battles is to have greater forces at the key location than does the enemy. The trick is to outwit the enemy and thus out-concentrate him at the right time’ (Warden 1998, 79). This matters for learning the right lessons from Ukraine’s fight for survival. Ukraine has only been able to master some of the lessons of manoeuvrist warfare. It has been hampered by its limited capacity in the air, which slows it down and makes it hard to break Russian lines except with artillery and long-range fire (such as the famous HIMARS rockets). It is in transition from Soviet- to Western-style command. But it has also shown tremendous capacity to innovate, particularly in its use of drones to hold a defensive line. Ukraine’s tremendous first-person drone capacity allows it to stop Russian attacks while risking far fewer troops (drone operators work behind the lines, where they are at much lower risk than the men in the trenches) and even compensate for artillery.6 These principles feed into NATO’s existing doctrine (NATO 2022), which involves identifying the enemy’s centre of gravity, achieving air superiority to deliver firepower against its command and control nodes, and then overcoming its disoriented forces at speed. It relies on synthesising intelligence through networks of sensors and exploiting the information they provide to deploy massed precision against them. Such operations, however, require certain capabilities that depend on equipment and structures provided mostly by the US. The first of these is NATO’s command structure. NATO’s armies have a single command structure that conducts exercises together. At the top is the Supreme Allied Commander (American) and the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander (European). American units are integrated throughout the force structure. European forces will need to plan, exercise and be ready to fight without these American elements—it is not merely a matter of detaching them. The second is the intelligence and planning capability to carry out those war plans and adapt to the evolving battle. These integrate intelligence gathered from sensors, satellites and human sources, and artificial intelligence is increasingly involved in its processing as extremely large amounts of data must be handled quickly and secretly. As well as certain sensors (satellites and aircraft), the US’s processing software is also vital here, though Europeans have equivalent capabilities at reduced scale. Third are the sensors, software and missiles needed to suppress enemy air defences (SEAD). SEAD missions are a prerequisite for establishing air superiority against adversaries that possess sophisticated air defence systems, such as Russia. Indeed, the failure of Russia’s SEAD missions in Ukraine, and Ukraine’s ability to deter Russian aviation, may also indicate that an effective air defence is easier to mount than had been thought.7 Europe, however, currently lacks the ability to make the latest generation of anti-radiation missiles (which target enemy radar) essential to the success of SEAD. India’s poor performance against Pakistan, where it appears to have attempted to conduct deep strikes against its rival without conducting SEAD, underlines the importance of these capabilities (Economist 2025). It will take some years to develop them, and this needs to be prioritised. A full discussion of the requirements for successful SEAD against Russia can be found in Bronk and Watling (2025). Finally there is the question of Russia’s nuclear threats. Though the UK and France possess ‘strategic’ nuclear arsenals, these, because they threaten the complete destruction of the world, can only credibly deter the most extreme sort of attack. Russia and the US both have low-yield or ‘tactical’ nuclear weapons, and Russia has regularly threatened to use them. These threats would significantly complicate elements of a European campaign to deter Russia, which might involve actions such as seizing Kaliningrad or advancing from Finland towards the environs of St Petersburg. Europe needs the ability to restrict Russia to conventional weapons in such circumstances. Though such deterrence does not have to be supplied using tactical nuclear weapons of our own (Hoffmann 2021), these would be the most straightforward instrument for this purpose. As the UK’s nuclear weapons systems are submarine launched (and use American missiles), France’s arsenal would have to be expanded to provide this capability, and be able to be deployed closer to the front as, for example, Donald Tusk has hinted.8 Conclusion and recommendations Fighting without the Americans does not necessarily mean we need to replace exactly what they used to supply. Instead we need to understand the mission required, which is to deter Russia by credibly showing how Russian forces would be defeated, in the field, should Putin attempt to attack us. In an ideal world this credible threat would cause the military to remove Putin should he attempt further adventurism against Europe, but we cannot rely on such an eventuality. This means that we have to think carefully about how we would fight and sustain political support for a major European war. The good news is that provided that the bulk of Europe is willing to contribute, we have the resources and equipment needed to defeat Russia. Upgrades, in particular in SEAD capability and tactical nuclear weapons, need to be made, but they are not out of reach. In addition, we have a solid basis in military doctrine that can be used to organise a campaign that takes advantage of our military cultures and technological lead. The less good news is that the countries that can be guaranteed to make up a ‘coalition of the willing’ (the NB8 plus Poland, the UK and Ukraine) would currently struggle to mount an offensive campaign on their own. They would, in particular, struggle to field a sufficiently large air force to win air superiority over Russia, though they have enough aircraft to deny Russia air superiority of its own. This would limit their ability to put manoeuvrist doctrine into practice, and, notwithstanding advances in drone warfare pioneered by the Ukrainians, could cause them to fall back to static defence and attritional warfare, as illustrated by the proposed Baltic Defence Line. Such an approach would stretch the human resources of a coalition of the willing extremely thin. It is perhaps ironic that Europe as a whole could win a war of attrition against Russia, but it also would not have to, as it could prosecute a campaign of manoeuvre against the Russian military and Putin’s state. Accordingly my recommendations are laid out below. Europe should focus on what it needs to defeat Russia, rather than what would be required to replace the American commitment to NATO. Nevertheless, it should not, as a whole, revert to using conscript-based armies designed to fight a war of attrition against Russia. These give up the greatest advantages of technologically advanced free societies and would leave us fighting the kind of war Russia would want us to fight. Certain small front-line states might need to make different calculations. Universal military service might be required so that they can, in extremis, mount a defensive campaign—for example, if Finland and the Baltic states were required to fight on their own without support from European allies. This highly extreme scenario is sufficiently unlikely that it should not form the basis of other countries’ military planning. The core ‘coalition of the willing’—the Nordic countries, the Baltic states, plus Poland, the UK and Ukraine—could defend themselves against Russia, and with some effort would be able to conduct an offensive campaign to bring about Russian defeat. They would need, however, to make important improvements to their defence. The coalition would require an integrated command structure and a programme of exercises. The expansion of the UK-led Joint Expeditionary Force and the UK’s command headquarters would be a suitable nucleus for such capability. The coalition would face a manpower deficit compared to Russia, and matching Russian mobilised reserve levels would be a challenge. The coalition could, however, match Russian mobilisation levels with a Swedish- or Norwegian-style selective military service programme for young men and women (it could achieve sufficient coverage for defensive purposes by recruiting 16% of men and 6% of women each year). The coalition is also severely short of aircraft with which to pursue an air superiority campaign against Russia. Though it would fare better than Ukraine on its own, increasing the size of the coalition’s air forces must be a priority, and the risk of over-dependence on the F35 needs to be considered. Though ‘kill switches’ are a myth, a sovereign spare parts supply chain (as Finland is creating) and sovereign intelligence software (as used by Israel) are required to reduce the risk of US unreliability. The coalition would also need to consider replacing the F35’s intelligence and command capabilities with replacements that could operate on European aircraft, such as the Gripen or Rafale. The lack of stealth capability would also hamper the coalition’s air forces until a sixth-generation fighter could be developed. Europe as a whole has forces of the necessary scale to conduct operations against Russia. Its shortfalls in ammunition production and inefficiencies due to the diversity of its equipment have been covered elsewhere. Some inefficiency is likely to persist as long as Europe remains a relatively decentralised continent, but it is likely to be better to bear the extra cost now, than waste time with the ambitious political integration projects required to eliminate it quickly. Europe as a whole would need to develop its own command structure. At this level it may be possible to repurpose NATO’s Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) using the Berlin Plus process, though care would need to be taken to avoid a potentially hostile US, as well as unfriendly NATO members, such as Hungary, blocking operations. As urgent as ammunition production (a category that includes missiles as well as artillery) is the manufacture of equipment to conduct SEAD campaigns. Reviving European capacity to produce anti-radiation missiles and in intelligence capability to uncover targets for them should be a matter of the highest priority. The final priority area is the expansion of Europe’s tactical nuclear capability. Though the French and British strategic arsenals can provide the ultimate deterrence against Russia, tactical, or low-yield, weapons are needed to deter Russia from threatening European forces with its tactical nuclear weapons. As the British programme is not suitable, these would have to be based on the French programme, and questions related to how this expansion would be paid for, and how tactical nuclear use would be authorised, would need to be addressed. Footnotes1. Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia.2. These estimates are based on Eurostat data for the EU member states, the Office for National Statistics population projections for the UK and the most recent available data for Russia, which is based on UN data not currently available but which have been reported on Wikipedia. The Russian data are from 2012, so these overestimate Russian demographic strength slightly. The military age calculation aggregates the standard five-year demographic groups between 20 and 49. Obviously a military may mobilise younger and older people as well, but the comparison remains valid.3. In this case, by taking the 10-year sample of 15–24-year-olds and dividing it by 10 to smooth out fluctuations. Again, because of declining Russian demographics (even without accounting for losses due to the war), this is likely to be an underestimate of the proportion mobilised (because the total number of 18-year-old men is lower than the statistics indicate).4. F35s are easily the most advanced fighter available, and the only one reliably able to penetrate Russian air defences before suppression of enemy air defence missions have been accomplished. The deterioration in relations with the US, however, poses questions about the ongoing reliability of the supply chain associated with them. Though ‘kill-switches’ are a myth, European countries will need to maintain their own spare parts supply and software upgrade path if they are to gain the most out of the aircraft in the long run. Finland, for example, is establishing its own sovereign spare parts supply, and Israel has a sovereign software intelligence solution on its F35s.5. An exception was the Wehrmacht, which inherited mission command from the Prussian Army; however, its generals found themselves micromanaged by Hitler, which (fortunately) affected their performance.6. These small drones are very different from those deployed in the early stages of the war such as the Bayraktar TB2 or Western drones such as the Reaper. They are much closer to ammunition than platforms, and (in good weather, at least) replace artillery or close air support.7. It could also indicate that Russian aviation is not as good as had been thought, but it would be dangerous to plan on that assumption.8. Author’s conversation with a Polish official who wished to remain anonymous.ReferencesBarker K., Smialek J., Erlanger S. (2025). Europe prepares to face Russia as Trump’s America steps back. New York Times, 24 February.Bronk J., Watling J. (2025). Rebalancing joint fires to deter Russia. Royal United Services Institute Occasional Paper. London, 15 April. https://static.rusi.org/rebalancing-european-joint-fires-to-deter-russia.pdf. Accessed 15 April 2025.Clausewitz K. von. (1918). On War. Trans. Graham J. J. (London: K. Paul Trench, Trubner & Co.)Dalaaker A. (2017). Statement by Norway on gender equality in the military – universal conscription. Organisation for Co-operation and Security in Europe. 8 March. https://www.osce.org/files/f/documents/b/9/304861.pdf. Accessed 9 April 2025.Economist. (2025). Chinese weapons gave Pakistan a new edge against India. 15 May. https://www.economist.com/asia/2025/05/15/chinese-weapons-gave-pakistan-a-new-edge-against-india. Accessed 16 May 2025.Hackett M., Nagl J. (2024). A long hard year. Russia–Ukraine war lessons learned 2023. Parameters, 54(3), 41–52.Hoffmann F. (2021). Strategic non-nuclear weapons and strategic stability – promoting trust through technical understanding. Fondation pour la recherche strategique. https://frstrategie.org/sites/default/files/documents/programmes/Programme TNP - P5/2021/202103.pdf. Accessed 9 April 2025.International Institute for Strategic Studies. (2024). The military balance. London: Routledge.Meyer zum Felde R. (2024). Kann sich Europa konventionell gegen eine militärische Bedrohung durch Russland behaupten? Sirius, 8(3), 267–83.Minfin.com.ua. (2025). Casualties of the Russian troops in Ukraine. Updated daily. https://index.minfin.com.ua/en/russian-invading/casualties/. Accessed 5 March 2025.Nagl J., Crombe K. (2024). A call to action: Lessons from Ukraine for the future force. Carlisle, PA: US Army War College Press.NATO. (2022). Allied joint doctrine. December. https://www.gov.uk/government/collections/allied-joint-publication-ajp. Accessed 9 April 2025.Tallis B. (2025). Emerging defence: Offset and competitive strategies for Europe. Democratic Strategy Initiative. https://www.democratic-strategy.net/_files/ugd/dcfff6_ca54854b6dc7499e829a5fa4d7b01b74.pdf. Accessed 16 March 2025.Warden J. (1998). The air campaign: Planning for combat. Washington, DC: National Defence University Press.Wolff G., Burlikov A. (2025). Defending Europe without the US: First estimates of what is needed. Bruegel, 21 February. https://www.bruegel.org/analysis/defending-europe-without-us-first-estimates-what-needed. Accessed 9 April 2025.

Abstract This paper examines whether the European Union (EU) can supplant the United States (US) as a benign hegemon in the contemporary international system. It discusses the concept of a benign hegemon, traditionally associated with the US, characterized by military and economic dominance exercised with liberal values, multilateralism, and the promotion of global security and prosperity.  The analysis highlights the limitations of US hegemony, including military overextension, economic challenges, and a decline in soft power, particularly in regions such as the Middle East. Conversely, the EU's global ambitions are examined, with a focus on its peace efforts, trade agreements, development aid, and multilateral engagement. However, the EU's internal divisions, lack of unified foreign and defense policy, and historical perceptions of coercion limit its ability to act as a benign hegemon. The analysis concludes with a proposition that the EU's unique nature and current constraints suggest it cannot fully assume the US's role, raising questions about the viability of benign hegemony in today's context. Key Words: SAFE, EU, US, Benign Hegemon, Geopolitics Introduction In the recent two pieces, we looked at Security Action for Europe (SAFE) and its potential consequences regarding the role and nature of the EU as a military power {link}, and Ukraine's integration into European defence cooperation, highlighting its unique status as a semi-integrated security partner (SISP) despite not being an EU member. {link}, This article will examine the transatlantic relations and specifically address the question of whether the EU could replace the US as a benign hegemon. According to popular sources, a "benign hegemon" refers to a dominant power that exercises its influence in a manner that is generally considered beneficial. This notion is contemporary and is almost always used referring to the United States (US). Accordingly, the US has used its influence to provide global security and stability without being overly aggressive or coercive. The concept is rooted in hegemonic stability theory, which posits that a single dominant state is necessary to maintain the stability of the international system.[i] Scholars define a benign hegemon as one that provides the necessary power to uphold the international order. This involves advancing its interests while promoting global security and prosperity through multilateral treaties and international organizations, safeguarding national sovereignty via alliance networks and the UN Security Council, and fostering unrestricted market capitalism through trade deals and bodies such as the World Trade Organization and the International Monetary Fund.[ii] Moreover, a benign hegemon is typically defined as a hegemonic power that, in addition to possessing overwhelming military and economic power, utilises its influence to promote more liberal principles within the international system. This includes pursuing liberal international values such as economic development, liberal and democratic political structures, and fostering a community of civilised states that resort to war only as a last resort and never against each other. The United States, as the hegemonic power after the Cold War, is often described as benign because its influence is broadly progressive, aiming to create a liberal world order based on free markets, free speech, free elections, and the exercise of free will unencumbered by the state. While the US maintains traditional geopolitical objectives, it also attempts to refashion the operational ground rules of the international system itself, promoting free trade, human rights, democratisation, and a global cultural infrastructure based on US technological companies. This combination of overwhelming power and a liberal agenda is what characterises a benign hegemon.[iii] Furthermore, experts often cite the US's "liberal grand strategy" as constructing a relatively benign and highly institutionalised multilateral system based on open markets, free trade, and the provision of public goods, such as collective security and an open international trading regime.[iv] This system is viewed as enabling other countries to prosper economically in a secure environment, with examples such as the rebuilding and subsequent success of Japan and Germany. However, the concept of benign hegemon is contested, with some arguing that the US lacks the resources to be a genuine global hegemon, as noted by John Mearsheimer and Joseph Nye, who suggest it cannot achieve all security, political, and economic goals alone. This argument highlights the complexity of assessing whether the US's actions are truly benign, especially given its military and financial reach.[v] Historical Context The US's role as a potential benign hegemon has been prominent since the end of World War II, particularly after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, when it occupied a hegemonic position within world politics Historical instances include its leadership in establishing the Bretton Woods system, the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and security alliances like NATO, which aimed to stabilise the global economy and provide collective defense. The US also played a key role in democratising post-war Europe and Japan, furthering its image as a stabilising force. On the positive side, the US led through consent, with high global approval ratings and multilateral actions, such as Bush Sr.'s Gulf War coalition and Obama's Libya UN action, which are claimed to be foundational to the liberal order since World War II. On the negative side, actions like the Iraq War, drone attacks, and government overthrows in Latin America and the Middle East are cited as evidence of coercion and imperialism, undermining the benign label. Scholars focusing on the Middle East note that despite its hegemonic role, the region has experienced significant violence and instability, with US interventions such as the 2003 Iraq War and the 2011 Libya seen as sources of disorder rather than stability. This challenges the notion of benign hegemony, suggesting unipolarity (power dominance without ideological consensus) better explains US actions in the region.[vi] US hegemony and its limitations The concept of American hegemony has been a cornerstone of international relations since the end of World War II. However, in recent decades, the limitations of American hegemony have become increasingly apparent across military, economic, and cultural domains. Given the recent developments in the Middle East (war in Gaza and incursions between Israel and Iran), it seems logical to examine the limitations of US hegemony in the context of the region. Several factors contribute to the decline in American influence in the Middle East. Firstly, the failure of political reconstruction efforts in Iraq after the US-led invasion and overthrow of Saddam Hussein shifted America's position in the region from advantageous to disadvantaged and exposed the limits of American hegemony. Secondly, war-weariness within the United States affects the ability to sustain prolonged involvement and influence in the region. Thirdly, there is a relative neglect of the Arab-Israeli peace process, which undermines American credibility and effectiveness in the region. Fourthly, the impact of US regional policies on the influence of Iran, which has grown stronger partly as an unintended consequence of the Iraq war. Next, the emergence of a new regional power struggle between an Iranian-led bloc of mainly Shia actors and a Sunni bloc led by Arab states such as Saudi Arabia and Egypt. The rise of Islamist militias and political groups like Muqtada al-Sadr's supporters in Iraq, Hezbollah in Lebanon, and Hamas in the Palestinian territories, which were advantaged by early elections promoted by the US before adequate security and political institutions were in place. Next, the Bush administration's distancing from the Israeli-Palestinian peace process contributed to the rise of Hamas and further undermined moderate Palestinian leadership. Lastly, the diminished fear of American power by adversaries such as Iran, which refused negotiations and disregarded weak UN sanctions, and the uncertainty of America's Arab allies about the reliability of the US as a partner.[vii] Generally speaking, one of the most significant limitations of American military dominance is the issue of overextension. The US has maintained a global military presence, with bases and troops stationed across the world. However, this overextension has led to military fatigue and resource depletion. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, for instance, have strained the US military, leading to a decline in its ability to project power effectively.[viii] The rise of other military powers, particularly China, has also challenged the United States' military dominance. China's rapid military modernisation, including advancements in technology and naval capabilities, has narrowed the gap between the two superpowers. This has raised concerns about the US's ability to maintain its military superiority in the Asia-Pacific region and beyond. [ix] Maintaining military dominance is costly, and the economic burden of sustaining a global military presence has taken a toll on the US economy. The high defence budget has led to trade imbalances and deindustrialisation, weakening the economic foundations of American hegemony.[x] The US economy has faced significant challenges, including deindustrialisation, financialisation, and rising competition from China. The shift of manufacturing activities to countries with lower labour costs has weakened the US industrial base, while the rise of China as a global economic powerhouse has challenged American economic influence.[xi] Globalisation has created a more interconnected world economy, reducing the US's ability to dictate economic policies unilaterally. The rise of emerging economies, particularly in Asia, has shifted the balance of economic power, making it difficult for the US to maintain its hegemony in global trade and finance.[xii] The dominance of the US dollar in the global financial system is facing challenges. The rise of alternative currencies and the increasing use of cryptocurrencies have threatened the dollar's hegemony. Additionally, countries like Russia and China are reducing their dependence on the dollar, further eroding its global dominance.[xiii] American cultural influence, once a cornerstone of its global hegemony, is facing resistance. The rise of non-Western cultural formations, particularly in Asia and the Middle East, has challenged the dominance of American media, entertainment, and values. This has led to a decline in the global appeal of American culture.[xiv] The US's soft power, which was once a key component of its hegemony, has declined in recent years. The country's unilateral policies, military interventions, and domestic challenges, such as racial tensions and economic inequality, have eroded its moral authority and global influence.[xv] What is the EU hoping to achieve as a global player? A thorough analysis of available up-to-date documents issued by the EU itself suggests several key areas of interest to the organisation as a key global player. First and foremost, the EU is committed to fostering peace, preventing conflicts, and strengthening international security. It supports a rules-based international order with the United Nations at its core, advocating for multilateralism and the rule of international law.[xvi] The EU has actively engaged in conflict resolution, such as promoting a two-state solution in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and supporting ceasefires in regions like Gaza.[xvii] It also invests significantly in the defence of Ukraine to counter Russian aggression, viewing this as critical to maintaining European and global stability.[xviii] As the world's largest trading power, the EU seeks to use its economic strength to boost prosperity, enhance its trading power, and foster mutually beneficial partnerships. The EU's economic influence is a key pillar of its global power strategy, as evidenced by recent agreements. In April 2025, the EU-Central Asia summit agreed on a strategic partnership aimed at strengthening economic ties between the EU and Central Asia.[xix] A month later (May 2025), the EU and Singapore signed a landmark Digital Trade Agreement, enhancing the EU's digital trade capabilities.[xx] Overall, the EU has over 40 trade agreements with 70 countries. These agreements fall into three distinct categories: Economic Partnership Agreements (EPAs), Free Trade Agreements (FTAs), and Association Agreements (AAs). The EU also enters into non-preferential trade agreements, as part of broader deals such as Partnership and Cooperation Agreements (PCAs).[xxi] The EU provides significant development aid, which, when including the UK, is two-thirds greater than that of the US and is mainly supplied as grants rather than loans. According to the EU, this highlights its commitment to promoting human rights and sustainable development. The EU has built a dominant position in global development. It accounts for half of all aid worldwide, but the plethora of different programmes disguises its profile in this regard. [xxii] The EU aims to establish strong, well-managed partnerships with countries and regions beyond its immediate neighbourhood, particularly with middle powers (e.g., Brazil, Egypt, Indonesia, Mexico, Saudi Arabia) and pivotal regions (e.g., Africa, Central Asia, Southeast Asia). This is crucial for maintaining its influence in a multipolar world.[xxiii] In that respect, the EU is committed to reforming multilateral institutions, such as the UN, the IMF, and the World Bank, to ensure more equitable representation and effectiveness. It also aims to play a leading role in shaping the future of global forums, such as the G-20. Initiatives such as the "Golden Gateway" (€300 billion by 2027, launched in late 2021) and "Team Europe" for post-COVID investments are part of the EU's strategy to counterbalance China's Belt and Road Initiative and engage more effectively with developing countries.[xxiv] The EU focuses on addressing global challenges, including climate action, migration, and economic development. It wants to ensure that its climate policies, such as the Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism, do not hinder the development of Southern countries and offers compensation through initiatives like the Global Gateway and climate funds.[xxv] In 2021, the EU was the top partner for 80 countries and provided 43% of global official development assistance, underscoring its commitment.[xxvi] Migration reform is another priority, with the EU aiming to facilitate legal immigration pathways, including work visas, circular migration, and resettlement schemes, to address irregular entries and support global development.[xxvii] In this respect, the Council of the European Union adopted the EU's Pact on Migration and Asylum in May 2024. According to the EU, "the asylum and migration pact will ensure a fairer and stronger migration system that makes a concrete difference on the ground. These new rules will enhance the effectiveness of the European asylum system and foster greater solidarity among member states. The European Union will also continue its close cooperation with third countries to tackle the root causes of irregular migration".[xxviii]   The EU aspires to be a more assertive player in global security, potentially reevaluating its role in NATO and taking on greater responsibility as a security guarantor, particularly in regions such as Africa. It recognises the need for a foreign policy that is both humble (acknowledging the need to do more to have an impact) and ambitious (aiming for strong partnerships to promote its interests and objectives). The EU faces challenges from disinformation campaigns by Russia and China, as well as historical resentment from centuries of European dominance. To address this, Brussels is scaling up its diplomatic engagement and communication efforts, including task forces for regions such as sub-Saharan Africa and communication hubs like the one in Beirut (Carnegie Endowment for International Peace - The EU and the Global Battle of Narratives, citing EEAS Disinformation Speech). The EU aims to repair its image and rebuild trust abroad by positioning itself as a force for reform and a reliable partner for developing nations.[xxix] The EU finds itself squeezed between the United States and China, with its interests increasingly aligned with those of the US, yet also needing to assert its independence. The US's "pivot to Asia" has given the EU more freedom on specific international issues, but it also underscores the need for the EU to strengthen its global role.[xxx] The EU must also clarify its position vis-à-vis the Global South, ensuring that its policies are perceived as supportive and beneficial to developing nations, particularly in areas such as trade, climate, and security. Can the EU ever become a benign power? The answer to this question turns out to be negative, at least as long as we adhere to the criteria used so far. Below, the reader will find a list of reasons supporting the above-proposed statement. First, the EU is still not a unified entity, especially regarding its foreign, security, and, even more so, defence policy. It remains a collection of 27 semi-independent states, some, such as Germany, being more independent than others, notably the Benelux countries (Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg). Ultimately, the EU's ability to achieve its declared foreign and security objectives depends on the political dynamics and appetite for further integration among member states. For example, the latest proposed 18th package of Russian sanctions was blocked by Hungary and Slovakia, and Brussels has limited options for action, at least for now.[xxxi] The EU's vast asymmetry in power with its neighbors can lead to perceptions of dominance and coercion, even if the EU does not intend to be seen that way.[xxxii] One does not have to look far, but consider the latest (since 2015) waves of immigration. In northern Africa, as well as in some parts of the Middle East, South Asia, and South America, the EU member states are predominantly seen as former colonial powers. There appears to be a shared sense of entitlement towards the EU and its member states regarding its imperial past, which was often anything but benign. Importantly, this does not refer to central and Eastern European members of the EU.[xxxiii] While the EU remains an economic (albeit comparatively declining) and normative power (at least this is what it likes to self-identify), it lacks the military capacity to project its influence in the same way that traditional hegemons have. It is also doubtful that even if the SAFE instrument is fully realized in the next couple of years, the EU member states will have the industrial and human capacity to match the great powers, such as the US, Russia, Turkey, Iran, or, most of all, China.  A quick juxtaposition of current defense spending, population numbers, population growth forecasts, and economic output forecasts tells us all we need to know in this regard. The answer is bitter for the EU; it is likely to matter less and less. On top of that, let's look at the notion of “benign”. What does it even mean? Perhaps the term is entirely false; maybe even the US does not now fulfill the “benign” requirements, at least not in the way it has been defined (as in the introduction). Perhaps, there has never really been a “benign hegemon,” and the EU should not even try to fill these shoes. As usual, there are more questions than answers. Whatever the EU becomes via SAFE, it will probably stand for, not the first time, as new and an “undefiable animal” – sui generis (of its kind) as the EU academics usually posit. The concept of the EU as a benign hegemon is complex and contested. While the EU does promote its values and norms through various means, the extent to which its influence is truly benign is debatable. The EU's internal divisions and its neighbors' perceptions of its power dynamics play a crucial role in shaping the reality of its regional role. Can the EU become a benign power in the future? The author of this analysis is rather negative. Especially, if the EU does not address the challenges as explored here: https://worldandnewworld.com/safe-europe-military-power-3/ and https://worldandnewworld.com/ukraine-european-defence-cooperation/   [1] Although not official, some discussions suggest animals like the Golden Eagle as potential symbols due to its historical significance in Europe, including its use in the Roman Empire and modern Germany.[i]   See more: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hegemonic_stability_theory[ii]Keay, L. (2023). Surviving the End of US Hegemony. The International Spectator. https://www.iai.it/en/pubblicazioni/c05/surviving-end-us-hegemony[iii]  Catley, B. (1997). Hegemonic America: The benign superpower? Contemporary Southeast Asia, 18(4), 377-399. ISEAS - Yusof Ishak Institute. https://www.jstor.org/stable/25798354[iv]   Catley, B. (1997). Hegemonic America: The Benign Superpower? Contemporary Southeast Asia, 18(4), 377–399. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25798354[v]Mearsheimer, J. J. (2016). Benign Hegemony. International Studies Review, 1(3). https://www.mearsheimer.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/Benign-Hegemony.pdf [vi] Gause, F. G. (2025). Hegemony, Unipolarity and American Failure in the Middle East. POMEPS Studies, 54, 41–47. https://pomeps.org/pomeps-studies-54-america-and-the-middle-east[vii] Wittes, T. C. (2007, March 22). American hegemony: Myth and reality. The Brookings Institution. Retrieved June 26, 2025, from https://www.brookings.edu/articles/american-hegemony-myth-and-reality/[viii] Bello, W. (2024). Overextension and Globalization: The Dynamics of Hegemonic Decline. Critical Sociology. https://doi.org/10.1177/08969205241266982[ix] Asuquo-Ekpo, B. (2024). China’s Economic, Military, Science and Technological Emergence in International Politics: Implications for United States’ Hegemony. World Journal Of Advanced Research and Reviews, 22(3), 804–814. https://doi.org/10.30574/wjarr.2024.22.3.1791[x]Lau, J. (2023). American Imperialism (pp. 185–194). Routledge eBooks. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003121800-20[xi] Rashid, A., & Khuhro, A. A. (2023). Historical Insights of Global Power Transitions: Implications on US-China Relations. Perennial Journal of History, 4(2), 68–87. https://doi.org/10.52700/pjh.v4i2.156[xii] Cartwright, M. (2024). Embedded hegemony and the evolution of the United States’ structural power. International Relations. https://doi.org/10.1177/00471178241268418[xiii] Sen, O. F. (2024). Challenges to the American dollar hegemony. https://doi.org/10.32469/10355/106100[xiv] Knauft, B. M. (2007). Provincializing America: Imperialism, Capitalism, and Counterhegemony in the Twenty-first Century. Current Anthropology, 48(6), 781–805. https://doi.org/10.1086/521415[xv] Nuridah, I., Aulia, T., Aulia Sahada, N., Rodiyah, Z., Ndruru, S., Simangunsong, W. H., Rila, E. S., & Tampubolon, Y. L. (2024). Amerika Serikat sebagai Negara Adikuasa: Pengaruh dan Dominasi dari Akhir Abad ke-20 hingga Awal Abad ke-21. 1(3), 157–161. https://doi.org/10.57251/polyscopia.v1i3.1368[xvi] A global Europe: leveraging our power and partnership. (n.d.). European Commission, A Global Europe. Retrieved June 30, 2025, from https://commission.europa.eu/priorities-2024-2029/global-europe_en[xvii] European Commission (2025, April 14). Commission announces multiannual programme for Palestinian recovery and resilience worth up to €1.6 billion. European Commission, Press Release. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1055[xviii] European Union (n.d.). EU support for Ukraine. European Union. Retrieved June 30, 2025, from https://european-union.europa.eu/priorities-and-actions/eu-support-ukraine_en[xix] European Commission (2025, April 4). Joint press release on the EU-Central Asia Summit. European Commission. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_983[xx] European Commission (2025, July 5). EU and Singapore sign landmark digital trade agreement. European Commission. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1152[xxi] European Council, Council of the Union (2025, July 5). EU trade agreements. European Council. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/policies/trade-agreements/[xxii] Merritt, G. (2023, October 3). Global Europe 1: The EU’s path to super-power status. Friends of Europe. https://www.friendsofeurope.org/insights/frankly-speaking-global-europe-1-the-eus-path-to-super-power-status/[xxiii] Lehne, S. (2024, March 21). The EU and the Global Battle of Narratives. Carnegie Europe. https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2024/03/the-eu-and-the-global-battle-of-narratives?lang=en¢er=europe[xxiv] Merritt, G. (2023, October 3). Global Europe 1: The EU’s path to super-power status. Friends of Europe. https://www.friendsofeurope.org/insights/frankly-speaking-global-europe-1-the-eus-path-to-super-power-status/[xxv] Lehne, S. (2024, March 21). The EU and the Global Battle of Narratives. Carnegie Europe. https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2024/03/the-eu-and-the-global-battle-of-narratives?lang=en¢er=europe[xxvi] European Commission (2022, July 18). Team Europe’s Official Development Assistance reaches €70.2 billion in 2021. European Commission. https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_22_4532[xxvii] European Council, Council of the Union (2025, June 30). EU migration and asylum policy. European Council, Council of the European Union. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/policies/eu-migration-policy/[xxviii] European Council, Council of the Union (2024, May 14). The Council adopts the EU’s pact on migration and asylum. European Council, Council of the European Union. https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/press-releases/2024/05/14/the-council-adopts-the-eu-s-pact-on-migration-and-asylum/[xxix] The Diplomatic Service of the European Union (2024, January 23). Disinformation and Foreign Interference: Speech by High Representative/Vice-President Josep Borrell at the EEAS Conference. European Council, External Action. https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eeas/disinformation-and-foreign-interference-speech-high-representativevice-president-josep-borrell-eeas_en[xxx] Merritt, G. (2023, October 3). Global Europe 1: The EU’s path to super-power status. Friends of Europe. https://www.friendsofeurope.org/insights/frankly-speaking-global-europe-1-the-eus-path-to-super-power-status/[xxxi] Vysotska, T., & POHORILOV, S. (2025, June 30). 18th package of sanctions against Russia being blocked not only by Slovakia, but also by Hungary. Ukrainska Pravda 25. https://www.pravda.com.ua/eng/news/2025/06/30/7519420/[xxxii] Zubek, M., & Gora, M. (2021, June). Revamping the EU Approach Towards the Neighbouring and Enlargement Countries. Differentiation and EU Foreign Policy. 10th Conference of the SGEU, Virtual Event, 10 - 12 June 2021. https://ecpr.eu/Events/Event/PaperDetails/49470[xxxiii] Gowayed, H. (2024, August 12). Borders and the Exchange of Humans for Debt. IN THESE TIMES. https://inthesetimes.com/article/borders-exchange-humans-debt-asylum-global-south

In Latin America, Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela are not alone in their support for Russia and its invasion of Ukraine. In many cases, support has been disguised as an interest in peace or a neutral stance towards the conflict, as seen in the cases of Colombia, Mexico, and Brazil. While we find manifold diplomatic approaches toward Russia and Ukraine in Latin America, the underlying motivations can be understood in terms of support or rejection. While a majority of nations reject the invasion, considering it a threat to territorial sovereignty and self-determination, others have been reluctant to place any blame on Russia. More broadly, there has been less of an ideological bloc and more of an anti-imperialist or anti-colonial sentiment, with a few exceptions, such as Gabrie Boric from Chile who has publicly repudiated Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. His opposition is a departure from other Latin American leftist leaders like Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Gustavo Francisco Petro who have been more critical of Volodymyr Zelensky than Vladimir Putin. However, we can still identify three distinctive approaches to the crisis: 1) geopolitical, 2) economic, and 3) historical. The region has a keen interest in keeping its doors open to Russia. BRICS members like Brazil have managed to maintain their alleged neutrality in the pursuit of peace—even as President Lula has explicitly supported  Putin—while simultaneously protecting their economic interests. Others like Colombia and Mexico have shielded their unwillingness to condemn Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in an apparent push for peace. On the economic front, attitudes towards Russia are more tenuous given that Russia’s capability for foreign direct investment has been significantly reduced by the brunt of the war, along with the impact of the economic sanctions that followed their aggression. To be sure, Russia’s investments in the region have been winding down for some time, with a decreasing profile in areas such as energy, oil, and gas, as well as software and IT. However, the economic ties are more significant in the cases of Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela—where they are joined more by their subjection to economic sanctions, and therefore the necessity to evade the consequences of economic isolation. There are specific areas key to this alliance: Russian fertilisers, along with oil and diesel, are critical to bypassing Western sanctions. Meanwhile, historical ties are more consequential than is commonly understood. Misinterpretations of Russia’s Soviet past by leftist-governed Latin American countries and longstanding social and cultural commonalities partially explain the continued support from diverse leaders such as Lula and Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil. These ties, rooted in shared anti-colonial sentiments and cultivated over decades, and regardless of ideological shifts, illustrate Russia’s multifaceted regional influence. This context underscores the fact that Russia’s regional impact transcends ideological lines, with both left and right-wing governments either explicitly supporting Russia or criticising Ukraine’s NATO aspirations to justify Russia’s aggression. The return of Donald Trump to the White House has prominent leaders of the Latin American left aligning with the new administration, resulting in significant consequences for the region. The new US administration’s criticism of Kyiv resonates with positions held by Brazil, Mexico, Colombia, Cuba, and Nicaragua. Despite ideological differences, their alignment emerges from a mix of political affinities, geopolitical strategies, and historical connections. Putin’s explicit defiance of Donald Trump’s negotiation efforts raises questions about Latin America’s influence over the conflict, largely due to its initial reluctance to adopt a decisive stance against Putin. The lonely voice condemning Putin’s war of attrition continues to be Chilean President Gabriel Boric, in stark contrast to Lula DaSilva and Gustavo Petro, who remain in Putin’s corner, making it unlikely they can be viewed as honest brokers in a peace initiative. Trump’s policies have prompted Brazil and Colombia to voice limited concerns about US plans for Ukraine, although still refraining from outright condemnation of Russia. This stance appears less a genuine support for Ukraine and more an opposition to US involvement in peace processes, even blaming Ukraine as partially responsible. Meanwhile, ideology alone has proven insufficient to prompt unified condemnation of Russia or widespread support for Ukraine in Latin America. Previous efforts by the Biden administration to secure regional military assistance for Ukraine were met with firm rejection and reluctance. This distancing, interpreted as tacit support for Russia, contributes to concerns about increasing authoritarian tendencies in the region, reflecting a diminished commitment to emerging democracies in crisis. Effectively abandoned by the international community, Ukraine faces negotiations with nations seeking its valuable earth minerals in exchange for protection, essentially framing it within a debt relief context. The absence of significant Latin American critique of this neocolonial approach underscores a troubling shift where sovereignty and self-determination appear increasingly disposable, contingent upon geopolitical interests and contexts. Maria I. Puerta Riera is a Visiting Professor of Political Science at Valencia College in Orlando, FL., where she teaches U.S. Government and International Politics. She holds a PhD. in Social Sciences, with her research focusing on the crises of democracies in Latin America. She has a special interest in Venezuela, Cuba, and Nicaragua, and is currently working on the effects of the illiberal regimes of China and Russia and their use of sharp power in the region. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

Abstract We examine the roles of Gold and Bitcoin as a hedge, a safe haven, and a diversifier against the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) pandemic and the Ukraine War. Using a rolling window estimation of the dynamic conditional correlation (DCC)-based regression, we present a novel approach to examine the time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier properties of Gold and Bitcoin for equities portfolios. This article uses daily returns of Gold, Bitcoin, S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. Our results show that Gold is a better safe haven than the two, while Bitcoin exhibits weak properties as safe haven. Bitcoin can, however, be used as a diversifier and hedge. This study offers policy suggestions to investors to diversify their holdings during uncertain times. Introduction Financial markets and the diversity of financial products have risen in both volume and value, creating financial risk and establishing the demand for a safe haven for investors. The global financial markets have faced several blows in recent years. From the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) to the outbreak of the pandemic and uncertainty regarding economic policy measures of governments and central banks, the financial markets including equity markets around the world were faced with severe meltdowns. This similar behavior was observed in other markets including equity and commodity markets, resulting in overall uncertainty. In this scenario, the investors normally flock toward the safe-haven assets to protect their investment. In normal situations, investors seek to diversify or hedge their assets to protect their portfolios. However, the financial markets are negatively impacted when there are global uncertainties. Diversification and hedging methods fail to safeguard investors’ portfolios during instability because almost all sectors and assets are negatively affected (Hasan et al., 2021). As a result, investors typically look for safe-haven investments to safeguard their portfolios under extreme conditions (Ceylan, 2022). Baur and Lucey (2010) provide the following definitions of hedge, diversifier, and safe haven: Hedge: An asset that, on average, has no correlation or a negative correlation with another asset or portfolio. On average, a strict hedge has a (strictly) negative correlation with another asset or portfolio.Diversifier: An asset that, on average, has a positive correlation (but not perfect correlation) with another asset or portfolio. Safe haven: This is the asset that in times of market stress or volatility becomes uncorrelated or negatively associated with other assets or a portfolio. As was previously indicated, the significant market turbulence caused by a sharp decline in consumer spending, coupled with insufficient hedging opportunities, was a common feature of all markets during these times (Yousaf et al., 2022). Nakamoto (2008) suggested a remedy by introducing Bitcoin, a “digital currency,” as an alternative to traditional fiduciary currencies (Paule-Vianez et al., 2020). Bitcoin often described as “Digital Gold” has shown greater resilience during periods of crises and has highlighted the potential safe haven and hedging property against uncertainties (Mokni, 2021). According to Dyhrberg (2016), the GFC has eased the emergence of Bitcoin thereby strengthening its popularity. Bouri et al. (2017) in their study indicate that Bitcoin has been viewed as a shelter from global uncertainties caused by conventional banking and economic systems. Recent research has found that Bitcoin is a weak safe haven, particularly in periods of market uncertainty like the coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) crisis (Conlon & McGee, 2020; Nagy & Benedek, 2021; Shahzad et al., 2019; Syuhada et al., 2022). In contrast to these findings, a study by Yan et al. (2022) indicates that it can function as a strong safe haven in favorable economic times and with low-risk aversion. Ustaoglu (2022) also supports the strong safe-haven characteristic of Bitcoin against most emerging stock market indices during the COVID-19 period. Umar et al. (2023) assert that Bitcoin and Gold are not reliable safe-havens. Singh et al. (2024) in their study reveal that Bitcoin is an effective hedge for investments in Nifty-50, Sensex, GBP–INR, and JPY–INR, at the same time a good diversifier for Gold. The study suggests that investors can incorporate Bitcoin in their portfolios as a good hedge against market volatility in equities and commodities markets. During the COVID-19 epidemic, Barbu et al. (2022) investigated if Ethereum and Bitcoin could serve as a short-term safe haven or diversifier against stock indices and bonds. The outcomes are consistent with the research conducted by Snene Manzli et al. (2024). Both act as hybrid roles for stock market returns, diversifiers for sustainable stock market indices, and safe havens for bond markets. Notably, Bhuiyan et al. (2023) found that Bitcoin provides relatively better diversification opportunities than Gold during times of crisis. To reduce risks, Bitcoin has demonstrated a strong potential to operate as a buffer against global uncertainty and may be a useful hedging tool in addition to Gold and similar assets (Baur & Lucey, 2010; Bouri et al., 2017; Capie et al., 2005; Dyhrberg, 2015). According to Huang et al. (2021), its independence from monetary policies and minimal association with conventional financial assets allow it to have a safe-haven quality. Bitcoins have a substantial speed advantage over other assets since they are traded at high and constant frequencies with no days when trading is closed (Selmi et al., 2018). Additionally, it has been demonstrated that the average monthly volatility of Bitcoin is higher than that of Gold or a group of international currencies expressed in US dollars; nevertheless, the lowest monthly volatility of Bitcoin is lower than the maximum monthly volatility of Gold and other foreign currencies (Dwyer, 2015). Leverage effects are also evident in Bitcoin returns, which show lower volatilities in high return periods and higher volatilities in low return times (Bouri et al., 2017; Liu et al., 2017). According to recent research, Bitcoins can be used to hedge S&P 500 stocks, which increases the likelihood that institutional and retail investors will build secure portfolios (Okorie, 2020). Bitcoin demonstrates strong hedging capabilities and can complement Gold in minimizing specific market risks (Baur & Lucey, 2010). Its high-frequency and continuous trading further enrich the range of available hedging tools (Dyhrberg, 2016). Moreover, Bitcoin spot and futures markets exhibit similarities to traditional financial markets. In the post-COVID-19 period, Zhang et al. (2021) found that Bitcoin futures outperform Gold futures.Gold, silver, palladium, and platinum were among the most common precious metals utilized as safe-haven investments. Gold is one such asset that is used extensively (Salisu et al., 2021). Their study tested the safe-haven property of Gold against the downside risk of portfolios during the pandemic. Empirical results have also shown that Gold functions as a safe haven for only 15 trading days, meaning that holding Gold for longer than this period would result in losses to investors. This explains why investors buy Gold on days of negative returns and sell it when market prospects turn positive and volatility decreases (Baur & Lucey, 2010). In their study, Kumar et al. (2023) tried to analyse the trends in volume throughout futures contracts and investigate the connection between open interest, volume, and price for bullion and base metal futures in India. Liu et al. (2016) in their study found that there is no negative association between Gold and the US stock market during times of extremely low or high volatility. Because of this, it is not a strong safe haven for the US stock market (Hood & Malik, 2013). Post-COVID-19, studies have provided mixed evidence on the safe-haven properties of Gold (Bouri et al., 2020; Cheema et al., 2022; Ji et al., 2020). According to Kumar and Padakandla (2022), Gold continuously demonstrates safe-haven qualities for all markets, except the NSE, both in the short and long term. During the COVID-19 episode, Gold’s effectiveness as a hedge and safe-haven instrument has been impacted (Akhtaruzzaman et al., 2021). Al-Nassar (2024) conducted a study on the hedge effectiveness of Gold and found that it is a strong hedge in the long run. Bhattacharjee et al. (2023) in their paper examined the symmetrical and asymmetrical linkage between Gold price levels and the Indian stock market returns by employing linear autoregressive distributed lag and nonlinear autoregressive distributed lag models. The results exhibit that the Indian stock market returns and Gold prices are cointegrated. According to the most recent study by Kaczmarek et al. (2022), Gold has no potential as a safe haven, despite some studies on the COVID-19 pandemic showing contradictory results. The co-movements of Bitcoin and the Chinese stock market have also normalized as a result of this epidemic (Belhassine & Karamti, 2021). Widjaja and Havidz (2023) verified that Gold was a safe haven asset during the COVID-19 pandemic, confirming the Gold’s safe-haven characteristic. As previously pointed out, investors value safe-haven investments in times of risk. Investors panic at these times when asset prices fall and move from less liquid (risky) securities to more liquid (safe) ones, such as cash, Gold, and government bonds. An asset must be bought and sold rapidly, at a known price, and for a reasonably modest cost to be considered truly safe (Smales, 2019). Therefore, we need to properly re-examine the safe-haven qualities of Gold and Bitcoin due to the mixed evidences regarding their safe-haven qualities and the impact of COVID-19 and the war in Ukraine on financial markets. This work contributes to and deviates from the body of existing literature in the following ways. We propose a novel approach in this work to evaluate an asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedge, and diversifier characteristics. This research examines the safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities of Gold and Bitcoin against the equity indices; S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50. Through the use of rolling window estimation, we extend the methodology of Ratner and Chiu (2013) by estimating the aforementioned properties of the assets. Comparing rolling window estimation to other conventional techniques, the former will provide a more accurate representation of an asset’s time-varying feature. This study explores the conventional asset Gold’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying qualities during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. We use Bitcoin, an unconventional safe-haven asset, for comparison. Data and Methodology We use the daily returns of three major equity indices; S&P500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 from January 3, 2018, to October 15, 2022. The equity indices were selected to represent three large and diverse markets namely the United States, France, and India in terms of geography and economic development. We assess safe-haven assets using the daily returns of Gold and Bitcoin over the same time. Equity data was collected from Yahoo Finance, Bitcoin data from coinmarketcap.com, and Gold data from the World Gold Council website. Engle (2002) developed the DCC (Dynamic Conditional Correlation)-GARCH model, which is frequently used to assess contagion amid pandemic uncertainty or crises. Time-varying variations in the conditional correlation of asset pairings can be captured using the DCC-GARCH model. Through employing this model, we can analyse the dynamic behavior of volatility spillovers. Engle’s (2002) DCC-GARCH model contains two phases; 1. Univariate GARCH model estimation2. Estimation of time-varying conditional correlation. For its explanation, mathematical characteristics, and theoretical development, see here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578] Results and Discussion The outcomes of the parameters under the DCC-GARCH model for each of the asset pairs selected for the investigation are shown in Table 1.   First, we look at the dynamical conditional correlation coefficient, ρ.The rho value is negative and insignificant for NSE 50/Gold, NSE 50 /BTC, S&P500/Gold, and S&P500/BTC indicating a negative and insignificant correlation between these asset pairs, showing Gold and Bitcoin as potential hedges and safe havens. The fact that ρ is negative and significant for CAC 40/Gold suggests that Gold can be a safe haven against CAC 40 swings. The asset pair CAC/BTC, on the other hand, has possible diversifier behavior with ρ being positive but statistically insignificant. Next, we examine the behavior of the DCC-GARCH parameters; α and β. We find that αDCC is statistically insignificant for all the asset pairs, while βDCC is statistically significant for all asset pairs. βDCC quantifies the persistence feature of the correlation and the extent of the impact of volatility spillover in a particular market’s volatility dynamics. A higher βDCC value implies that a major part of the volatility dynamics can be explained by the respective market’s own past volatility. For instance, the NSE 50/Gold’s βDCC value of 0.971 shows that there is a high degree of volatility spillover between these two assets, with about 97% of market volatility being explained by the assets’ own historical values and the remainder coming from spillover. Thus, we see that the volatility spillover is highly persistent (~0.8) for all the asset pairs except NSE 50/BTC. The results above show that the nature of the dynamic correlation between the stock markets, Bitcoin and Gold is largely negative, pointing toward the possibility of Gold and Bitcoin being hedge/safe haven. However, a detailed analysis is needed to confirm the same by employing rolling window analysis, and we present the results in the forthcoming section. We present the rolling window results for S&P500 first. We present the regression results for Gold in Figure 1 and Bitcoin in Figure 2   Figure 1. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Gold.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. In Figure 1, we examine the behavior of β0 (intercept term), β1, β2, and β3 (partial correlation coefficients). The intercept term β0 will give an idea about whether the asset is behaving as a diversifier or hedge. Here, the intercept term shows significance most of the time. However, during 2018, the intercept was negative and significant, showing that it could serve as a hedge during geopolitical tensions and volatilities in the global stock market. However, during the early stages of COVID-19, we show that the intercept is negative and showing statistical significance, suggesting that Gold could serve as a hedge during the initial shocks of the pandemic. These findings are contrary to the results in the study by Tarchella et al. (2024) where they found hold as a good diversifier. Later, we find the intercept to be positive and significant, indicating that Gold could act as a potential diversifier. But during the Russia-Ukraine War, Gold exhibited hedge ability again. Looking into the behavior of β1, which is the partial correlation coefficient for the tenth percentile of return distribution shows negative and insignificant during 2018. Later, it was again negative and significant during the initial phases of COVID-19, and then negative in the aftermath, indicating that Gold could act as a weak safe haven during the COVID-19 pandemic. Gold could serve as a strong safe haven for the SP500 against volatility in the markets brought on by the war in Ukraine, as we see the coefficient to be negative and large during this time. From β2 and β3, the partial correlation coefficients of the fifth and first percentile, respectively, show that Gold possesses weak safe haven properties during COVID-19 and strong safe haven behavior during the Ukraine crisis. Next, we examine the characteristics of Bitcoin as a hedge/diversifier/safe haven against the S&P500 returns. We present the results in Figure 2.   Figure 2. Rolling Window Regression Results for S&P500 and Bitcoin.Note: Areas shaded under factor 1 represent significant regression coefficients. Like in the previous case, we begin by analysing the behavior of the intercept coefficient, which is β0. As mentioned earlier the intercept term will give a clear picture of the asset’s hedging and diversifier property. In the period 2018–2019, the intercept term is positive but insignificant. This could be due to the large volatility in Bitcoin price movements during the period. It continues to be minimal (but positive) and insignificant during 2019–2020, indicating toward weak diversification possibility. Post-COVID-19 period, the coefficient shows the significance and positive value, displaying the diversification potential. We see that the coefficient remains positive throughout the analysis, confirming Bitcoin’s potential as a diversifier. Looking into the behavior of β1 (the partial correlation coefficient at tenth percentile), it is positive but insignificant during 2018. The coefficient is having negative sign and showing statistical significance in 2019, suggesting that Bitcoin could be a good safe haven in that year. This year was characterized by a long list of corporate scandals, uncertainties around Brexit, and tensions in global trade. We can observe that throughout the COVID-19 period, the coefficient is showing negative sign and negligible during the March 2020 market meltdown, suggesting inadequate safe-haven qualities. However, Bitcoin will regain its safe-haven property in the coming periods, as the coefficient is negative and significant in the coming months. The coefficient is negative and shows statistical significance during the Ukrainian crisis, suggesting strong safe-haven property. Only during the Ukrainian crisis could Bitcoin serve as a safe haven, according to the behavior of β2, which displays the partial correlation coefficient at the fifth percentile. Bitcoin was a weak safe haven during COVID-19 and the Ukrainian crisis, according to β3, the partial correlation coefficient for the first percentile (coefficient negative and insignificant). According to the overall findings, Gold is a stronger safe haven against the S&P 500’s swings. This result is consistent with the previous studies of Triki and Maatoug (2021), Shakil et al. (2018), Będowska-Sójka and Kliber (2021), Drake (2022), and Ghazali et al. (2020), etc. The same analysis was conducted for the CAC 40 and the NSE 50; the full analysis can be found here [insert the next link in “the word here” https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/09711023251322578]. However, it is important to highlight the respective results: In general, we may say that Gold has weak safe-haven properties considering CAC40. We can conclude that Bitcoin’s safe-haven qualities for CAC40 are weak. We can say that Gold showed weak safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis and good safe-haven characteristics for the NSE50 during COVID-19. We may say that Bitcoin exhibits weak safe haven, but strong hedging abilities to NSE50. Concluding Remarks In this study, we suggested a new method to evaluate an asset’s time-varying hedge, diversifier, and safe-haven characteristics. We propose a rolling window estimation of the DCC-based regression of Ratner and Chiu (2013). Based on this, we estimate the conventional asset’s time-varying safe haven, hedging, and diversifying properties during crises like the COVID-19 pandemic and the conflict in Ukraine. For comparison purposes, we include Bitcoin, a nonconventional safe-haven asset. We evaluate Gold and Bitcoin’s safe haven, hedging, and diversifier properties to the S&P 500, CAC 40, and NSE 50 variations. We use a rolling window of length 60 to estimate the regression. From the results, we find that Gold can be considered as a better safe haven against the fluctuations of the S&P 500. In the case of CAC 40, Gold and Bitcoin have weak safe-haven properties. While Bitcoin demonstrated strong safe-haven characteristics during the Ukraine crisis, Gold exhibited strong safe-haven characteristics during COVID-19 for the NSE 50. Overall, the findings indicate that Gold is the better safe haven. This outcome is consistent with earlier research (Będowska-Sójka & Kliber, 2021; Drake, 2022; Ghazali et al., 2020; Shakil et al., 2018; Triki & Maatoug, 2021). When it comes to Bitcoin, its safe-haven feature is weak. Bitcoin, however, works well as a diversifier and hedge. Therefore, from a policy perspective, investing in safe-haven instruments is crucial to lower the risks associated with asset ownership. Policymakers aiming to enhance the stability of financial portfolios might encourage institutional investors and other market players to incorporate Gold into their asset allocations. Gold’s strong safe-haven qualities, proven across various market conditions, make it a reliable choice. Gold’s performance during crises like COVID-19 highlights its potential to mitigate systemic risks effectively. Further, Bitcoin could also play a complementary role as a hedge and diversifier, especially during periods of significant volatility such as the Ukraine crisis. While Bitcoin’s safe-haven characteristics are relatively weaker, its inclusion in a diversified portfolio offers notable value and hence it should not be overlooked. Further, policymakers may consider how crucial it is to monitor dynamic correlations and periodically rebalance portfolios to account for shifts in the safe haven and hedging characteristics of certain assets. Such measures could help reduce the risks of over-reliance on a single asset type and create more resilient portfolios that can better withstand global economic shocks. For future research, studies can be conducted on the estimation of the rolling window with different widths. This is important to understand how the safe-haven property changes across different holding periods. Further, more equity markets would be included to account for the differences in market capitalization and index constituents. This study can be extended by testing these properties for multi-asset portfolios as well. We intend to take up this study in these directions in the future. Data Availability StatementNot applicable.Declaration of Conflicting InterestsThe authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.FundingThe authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.ReferencesAkhtaruzzaman M., Boubaker S., Lucey B. M., & Sensoy A. (2021). Is gold a hedge or a safe-haven asset in the COVID-19 crisis? Economic Modelling, 102, 105588. Crossref. Web of Science.Al-Nassar N. S. (2024). Can gold hedge against inflation in the UAE? A nonlinear ARDL analysis in the presence of structural breaks. PSU Research Review, 8(1), 151–166. Crossref.Barbu T. C., Boitan I. A., & Cepoi C. O. (2022). Are cryptocurrencies safe havens during the COVID-19 pandemic? A threshold regression perspective with pandemic-related benchmarks. Economics and Business Review, 8(2), 29–49. Crossref.Baur D. G., & Lucey B. M. (2010). Is gold a hedge or a safe haven? An analysis of stocks, bonds and gold. Financial Review, 45(2), 217–229. Crossref.Będowska-Sójka B., & Kliber A. (2021). Is there one safe-haven for various turbulences? The evidence from gold, Bitcoin and Ether. The North American Journal of Economics and Finance, Elsevier, 56, 101390. Crossref.Belhassine O., & Karamti C. (2021). Contagion and portfolio management in times of COVID-19. Economic Analysis and Policy, 72, 73–86. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Bhattacharjee A., Das J., & Kumar S. (2023). Evaluating the symmetrical and asymmetrical linkage between gold price and Indian stock market in the presence of structural change. NMIMS Management Review, 31(4), 288–297. Crossref. Web of Science.Bhuiyan R. A., Husain A., & Zhang C. (2023). Diversification evidence of Bitcoin and Gold from wavelet analysis. Financial Innovation, 9(1), 100. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Bouri E., Azzi G., & Dyhrberg A. H. (2017). On the return-volatility relationship in the Bitcoin market around the price crash of 2013. Economics, 11(1), 2. Crossref.Bouri E., Gupta R., Tiwari A. K., & Roubaud D. (2017). Does Bitcoin hedge global uncertainty? Evidence from wavelet-based quantile-in-quantile regressions. Finance Research Letters, 23, 87–95. Crossref. Web of Science.Bouri E., Shahzad S. J. H., Roubaud D., Kristoufek L., & Lucey B. (2020). Bitcoin, gold, and commodities as safe havens for stocks: New insight through wavelet analysis. The Quarterly Review of Economics and Finance, 77, 156–164. Crossref. Web of Science.Brenner M., & Galai D. (1989). New financial instruments for hedge changes in volatility. Financial Analysts Journal, 45(4), 61–65. Crossref.Capie F., Mills T. C., & Wood G. (2005). Gold as a hedge against the dollar. Journal of International Financial Markets, Institutions and Money, 15(4), 343–352. Crossref.Ceylan Ö. (2022). Hedging Effectiveness of the VIX ETPs: An analysis of the time-varying performance of the VXX. In Handbook of research on new challenges and global outlooks in financial risk management (pp. 384–401). IGI Global. Crossref.Cheema M. A., Faff R., & Szulczyk K. R. (2022). The 2008 global financial crisis and COVID-19 pandemic: How safe are the safe haven assets? International Review of Financial Analysis, 83, 102316. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Conlon T., & McGee R. (2020). Safe haven or risky hazard? Bitcoin during the COVID-19 bear market. Finance Research Letters, 35, 101607. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Demir E., Gozgor G., Lau C. K. M., & Vigne S. A. (2018). Does economic policy uncertainty predict the Bitcoin returns? An empirical investigation. Finance Research Letters, 26, 145–149. Crossref. Web of Science.Drake P. P. (2022). The gold-stock market relationship during COVID-19. Finance Research Letters, 44, 102111. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Dwyer G. P. (2015). The economics of Bitcoin and similar private digital currencies. Journal of Financial Stability, 17, 81–91. Crossref. Web of Science.Dyhrberg A. H. (2015). Hedging capabilities of bitcoin. Is it the virtual gold? Finance Research Letters, 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.frl.2015.10.025Dyhrberg A. H. (2016). Hedging capabilities of bitcoin. Is it the virtual gold? Finance Research Letters, 16, 139–144. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.frl.2015.10.025 Web of Science.Engle R. (2002). Dynamic conditional correlation: A simple class of multivariate generalized autoregressive conditional heteroskedasticity models. Journal of Business & Economic Statistics, 20(3), 339–350. Crossref. Web of Science.Ghazali M. F., Lean H. H., & Bahari Z. (2020). Does gold investment offer protection against stock market losses? Evidence from five countries. The Singapore Economic Review, 65(02), 275–301. Crossref.Hasan M. B., Hassan M. K., Rashid M. M., & Alhenawi Y. (2021). Are safe haven assets really safe during the 2008 global financial crisis and COVID-19 pandemic? Global Finance Journal, 50, 100668. Crossref. PubMed.Hood M., & Malik F. (2013). Is gold the best hedge and a safe haven under changing stock market volatility? Review of Financial Economics, 22(2), 47–52. Crossref.Huang Y., Duan K., & Mishra T. (2021). Is Bitcoin really more than a diversifier? A pre-and post-COVID-19 analysis. Finance Research Letters, 43, 102016. Crossref.Ji Q., Zhang D., & Zhao Y. (2020). Searching for safe-haven assets during the COVID-19 pandemic. International Review of Financial Analysis, 71, 101526. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Kaczmarek T., Będowska-Sójka B., Grobelny P., & Perez K. (2022). False safe haven assets: Evidence from the target volatility strategy based on recurrent neural network. Research in International Business and Finance, 60, 101610. Crossref. Web of Science.Kumar A. S., & Padakandla S. R. (2022). Testing the safe-haven properties of gold and bitcoin in the backdrop of COVID-19: A wavelet quantile correlation approach. Finance Research Letters, 47, 102707. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Kumar M. A., Swathi J., Pallavi T. A., & Bavana S. (2023). Volume progression and price–volume relationship of commodity futures: Case of bullion and base metals. NMIMS Management Review, 31(4), 265–274. https://doi.org/10.1177/09711023241230463 Web of Science.Liu C. S., Chang M. S., Wu X., & Chui C. M. (2016). Hedges or safe havens—Revisit the role of gold and USD against stock: A multivariate extended skew-t copula approach. Quantitative Finance, 16(11), 1763–1789. Crossref.Liu R., Zhichao S., Wei G., & Wang W. (2017). GARCH model with fat-tailed distributions and Bitcoin exchange rate returns. Journal of Accounting, Business and Finance Research, 1(1), 71–75. https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.3666106 Crossref.Mokni K. (2021). When, where, and how economic policy uncertainty predicts Bitcoin returns and volatility? A quantiles-based analysis. The Quarterly Review of Economics and Finance, 80, 65–73. Crossref.Nagy B. Z., & Benedek B. (2021). Higher co-moments and adjusted Sharpe ratios for cryptocurrencies. Finance Research Letters, 39, 101543. Crossref. Web of Science.Nakamoto S. (2008). Bitcoin: A peer-to-peer electronic cash system. Bitcoin. https://bitcoin.org/bitcoin.pdfOkorie D. I. (2020). Could stock hedge Bitcoin risk(s) and vice versa? Digital Finance, 2(1), 117–136. Crossref.Paule-Vianez J., Prado-Román C., & Gómez-Martínez R. (2020). Economic policy uncertainty and Bitcoin. Is Bitcoin a safe-haven asset? European Journal of Management and Business Economics, 29(3), 347–363. Crossref.Ratner M., & Chiu C. C. J. (2013). Hedging stock sector risk with credit default swaps. International Review of Financial Analysis, 30, 18–25. Crossref. Web of Science.Salisu A. A., Raheem I. D., & Vo X. V. (2021). Assessing the safe haven property of the gold market during COVID-19 pandemic. International Review of Financial Analysis, 74, 101666. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Saxena S., & Villar A. (2008). Hedging instruments in emerging market economies. Financial globalisation and emerging market capital flows. BIS Papers, 44, 71–87.Selmi R., Mensi W., Hammoudeh S., & Bouoiyour J. (2018). Is Bitcoin a hedge, a safe haven or a diversifier for oil price movements? A comparison with gold. Energy Economics, 74, 787–801. Crossref. Web of Science.Shahzad S. J. H., Bouri E., Roubaud D., Kristoufek L., & Lucey B. (2019). Is Bitcoin a better safe-haven investment than gold and commodities? International Review of Financial Analysis, 63, 322–330. Crossref. Web of Science.Shakil M. H., Mustapha I. H. M., Tasnia M., & Saiti B. (2018). Is gold a hedge or a safe haven? An application of ARDL approach. Journal of Economics, Finance and Administrative Science, 23(44), 60–76. Crossref.Singh V. V., Singh H., & Ansari A. (2024). Bitcoin as a distinct asset class for hedging and portfolio diversification: A DCC-GARCH model analysis. NMIMS Management Review, 32(1), 7–13. Crossref. Web of Science.Smales L. A. (2019). Bitcoin as a safe haven: Is it even worth considering? Finance Research Letters, 30, 385–393. Crossref. Web of Science.Snene Manzli Y., Alnafisah H., & Jeribi A. (2024). Safe haven ability of energy and agricultural commodities against G7 stock markets and banking indices during COVID-19, Russia–Ukraine War, and SVB collapse: Evidence from the wavelet coherence approach. Discrete Dynamics in Nature and Society, 2024(1), 2587000. Crossref.Syuhada K., Suprijanto D., & Hakim A. (2022). Comparing gold’s and Bitcoin’s safe-haven roles against energy commodities during the COVID-19 outbreak: A vine copula approach. Finance Research Letters, 46, 102471. Crossref. PubMed. Web of Science.Tarchella S., Khalfaoui R., & Hammoudeh S. (2024). The safe haven, hedging, and diversification properties of oil, gold, and cryptocurrency for the G7 equity markets: Evidence from the pre-and post-COVID-19 periods. Research in International Business and Finance, 67, 102125. Crossref. Web of Science.Triki M. B., & Maatoug A. B. (2021). The GOLD market as a safe haven against the stock market uncertainty: Evidence from geopolitical risk. Resources Policy, 70, 101872. Crossref. Web of Science.Umar Z., Bossman A., Choi S. Y., & Teplova T. (2023). The relationship between global risk aversion and returns from safe-haven assets. Finance Research Letters, 51, 103444. Crossref. Web of Science.Ustaoglu E. (2022). Safe-haven properties and portfolio applications of cryptocurrencies: Evidence from the emerging markets. Finance Research Letters, 47, 102716. Crossref. Web of Science.Widjaja M., & Havidz S. A. H. (2023). Are gold and cryptocurrency a safe haven for stocks and bonds? Conventional vs Islamic markets during the COVID-19 pandemic. European Journal of Management and Business Economics (ahead-of-print).Yan Y., Lei Y., & Wang Y. (2022). Bitcoin is a safe-haven asset and a medium of exchange. Axioms, 11(8), 415. Crossref.Yousaf I., Plakandaras V., Bouri E., & Gupta R. (2022). Hedge and safe haven properties of gold, US Treasury, Bitcoin, and Dollar/CHF against the FAANA companies and S&P 500 (Department of Economics, Working Paper Series No. 2022–27). University of Pretoria.Zhang Y., Zhu P., & Xu Y. (2021). Has COVID-19 changed the hedge effectiveness of bitcoin? Frontiers in Public Health, 9. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpubh.2021.704900

In the Middle East, China seeks to appear neutral by engaging in dialogue with all actors, from Tehran to Tel Aviv, including Riyadh. Beijing's objective is clear: to establish itself as a guarantor of stability to secure its energy and commercial interests. The People's Republic of China's (PRC) commitment to the Middle East reflects a carefully calibrated geostrategic approach, aiming to preserve regional stability, ensure uninterrupted access to energy resources, and promote its famous Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), also known as the 'New Silk Roads.' In this region, the Sino-Iranian relationship is most often highlighted due to its political weight and military dimension; however, whether in economic, diplomatic, or strategic terms, Beijing's presence in this area certainly extends beyond its ties with Tehran. As elsewhere in the world, in the Middle East, China divides its diplomatic partnerships into several types, listed here in descending order of intensity: "global strategic partnerships" (in the Middle East: Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain); "strategic partnerships" (Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Syria, Turkey, and the Palestinian Authority); "friendly cooperation partnerships" (Lebanon and Yemen); and finally, "innovative global partnerships" (Israel). China is redefining its priorities in the Middle East  Energy dependence is one of the essential drivers of China's policy in the region. Gulf countries, particularly Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Kuwait, are among the main suppliers of crude oil to the PRC—well ahead of Iran in terms of volume, as well as reliability and investment opportunities. This economic reality compels China to invest much more heavily in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, where financial stability, political predictability, and institutional openness promote sustainable strategic partnerships and infrastructure development, unlike in Iran. For these reasons, the Gulf countries have indirectly become essential nodes in the architecture of the BRI through trade, receiving nearly six times more Chinese investments than Iran. Although Iran has geographical interest as a potential corridor between China and Europe, the persistent effect of international sanctions, poor economic management, and regional adventurism severely limit its ability to attract sustainable Chinese investments. In contrast, Israel offers a functioning and favorable environment for investors, making it a preferred destination for Chinese capital and infrastructure projects. Its economy is based on solid infrastructure and a dynamic technology sector. Despite geopolitical shocks, including the recent clashes with Iran – which will undoubtedly impact the country's business environment – Israel, as a member of the OECD, remains attractive in terms of business environment and investment, mainly because the foundations of its economic environment are stronger than those of Iran or Saudi Arabia. The Hebrew state occupies an increasing place within the BRI – not due to the volume of Chinese direct investments, but because of its strategic position and ambitious infrastructure agenda. Its geographical location – straddling Europe, Asia, and Africa via the Mediterranean – makes it a key land and maritime connectivity point that provides an alternative option to Iran for linking China to Europe. In this context, China and Israel have made progress in their negotiations for a free trade agreement that has been discussed since 2016. Although discussions have been suspended since 2023, there remains hope that an agreement could be signed once stability returns to the region. China's trade with Israel and Iran: divergent trajectories China's commercial relations with Israel and Iran reveal two distinct economic approaches.  With Israel, trade is increasingly marked by imports of high technologies - particularly in the semiconductor field - reflecting a growing technological interdependence.  In contrast, trade with Iran remains focused on industrial goods and natural resources, illustrating a more traditional partnership based on access to raw materials. These contrasting dynamics reflect China's strategic flexibility, which relies on Israeli innovation while securing its supplies from Iran.  Tensions in the Strait of Hormuz are testing China's strategy in Iran  For nearly fifty years, Iran has turned to China for economic support. However, despite 21 Chinese greenfield investment projects between 2003 and 2020 – mainly in the energy sector – Beijing has gradually begun to disengage due to international sanctions and ongoing regional instability. Large companies such as CNPC and Sinopec have reduced their stake, or even abandoned some projects, while tech companies like Huawei and Lenovo have also scaled back their presence in the Iranian market. Between 2017 and 2019, Iran reportedly saw an outflow of Chinese capital estimated at $990 million. China views instability in the Middle East, particularly the confrontation between Israel and Iran, as a direct threat to its economic and commercial interests. As the world's largest buyer of Iranian oil, China is especially concerned about potential disruptions in strategic maritime routes, particularly the Strait of Hormuz. In June 2025, Chinese oil imports from Iran significantly increased, reaching up to 1.8 million barrels per day – a surge that occurred just before the military escalation between Israel and Iran, which raised concerns about the security of the Strait of Hormuz. A sign of the weight of the PRC in this region: after the reciprocal airstrikes between Israel and Iran, and Tehran's threat to close this crucial passage, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio urged Beijing to intervene, emphasizing China's heavy dependence on this oil route. China–United States: strategic tensions in a transitioning Middle East China and the United States recently signed a trade agreement and established a 90-day tariff truce, aiming to resolve some key disputes and stabilize economic relations. Furthermore, on the military front, Iran and China signed a military cooperation agreement as early as 2016, reflecting their mutual desire to counter American influence in the region and secure trade routes. Historically, China has supported Iran through arms sales, technology transfers, and training programs. Moreover, despite the official rhetoric, some reports suggest that Chinese technologies have contributed to the development of Iran's ballistic program. The Sino-Iranian relationship in defense illustrates a two-level diplomacy: China discreetly supports Iran's military autonomy while ensuring it does not compromise its strategic relationships with other important regional partners, including Israel, with whom it also maintains top-level security dialogues. This highlights Beijing's broader ambition: to avoid regional polarizations and maintain a balance of power favorable to its interests. China's strategy in the Middle East towards the United States is based on a principle of equidistance: to increase its influence without direct confrontation, while drawing strategic benefits from Saudi Arabia, Israel, Iran, and Egypt. In this perspective, the People's Republic of China does not seek to replace the United States as the dominant power in the region, but rather to offer a multipolar presence focused on preserving stability. Maintaining the status quo, avoiding direct conflicts, and building a parallel system of influence through infrastructure, trade, and diplomacy are the pillars of China's position in the Middle East. This approach ensures Beijing secure access to energy, trade corridors, and sustainable geopolitical influence from Tel Aviv to Tehran.

France and New Caledonian stakeholders have agreed to start a one-year process that may reconfigure France’s relation to its former colony. However, materialising its goals will require a lot of political manoeuvring. One of Australia’s nearest neighbours, New Caledonia, may enter a new political configuration, short of independence. On 12 July, 2025, after ten days and nights of intense negotiations, representatives of the French government and six New Caledonian delegations signed the Bougival Accord, setting a one-year calendar to completely reconfigure New Caledonia’s politico-legal configuration, and also France’s constitutional system. Besides the media fanfare and President Emmanuel Macron hailing the agreement as “historic,” closer inspection shows a weakened pro-independence movement, and France leveraging a unique window of opportunity to consolidate its geostrategic presence in the Pacific; and with it, ensure a stable supply of nickel to France and Europe, while keeping Chinese influence at bay. This article provides some preliminary reflections on the Bougival Accord upon first reading. It does not intend to disparage the importance of the agreement and its commendable goal to advance self-determination in the region. Its main argument is that the Accord is a consensus made from concessions, but it seems to benefit France the most. Background The Accord follows a rushed independence referendum in December 2021, held during the COVID-19 pandemic, and a more turbulent electoral reform in 2024, which extended voting rights to 10-year residents and sparked fears of diluting Indigenous Kanaki influence. Civil unrest promptly resulted, and a brutal military response followed, with 14 dead, thousands of arrests, and independence activists sent to French prisons. The closure of the Kanaki-majority-controlled Koniambo mine, after Glencore’s withdrawal, caused one in six private sector workers to lose their job. Kanaki leaders had traditionally relied on “resource nationalism” to pursue economic autonomy, but economic hardship has diminished their negotiating power in this new agreement. Legal framework The Bougival Accord is not legally binding. It is a draft framework that will require further ratification through constitutional reform and a popular referendum scheduled for 2026. Notably, the Accord has no reference to terms such as “independence” or “referendum,” opting for the watered-down “emancipation” and “progressive decolonisation.” The preamble emphasises a “common destiny” between France and New Caledonia, portraying the latter as a benevolent partner and sole guarantor of democratic principles and the rule of law, in stark contrast to Chinese influence in the area. The Accord neatly aligns with France’s Indo-Pacific strategy, which outlines strategic pillars in defence and security, economic interests, rule of law, and ocean management. Power transfer amid political polarisation The Accord proposes a possible transfer of power from France to New Caledonia, but only in the areas of international relations, defence, currency, justice, and public order. Such transfer is not automatic, as it requires a qualified majority of 36 out of 54 seats (soon to be 56) in the New Caledonian Assembly. Under the current political fragmentation, 28 seats are held by the anti-independence parties and 25 by the pro-independence parties. Territorial configuration is the main hot topic in a deeply polarised political landscape, with both sides facing a tough time selling the Accord to their constituencies. Pro-independence supporters will likely be disappointed by the renouncement to any full-independence aspirations, whereas anti-independence groups may see a constitutional recognition of the new status quo as a defeat. Limited transfer of powers Even if the powers are transferred, France has ensured that it will keep significant control. New Caledonia’s ability to conduct international relations will now have to align with France’s foreign policy. On defence and security, New Caledonia has only obtained a mere consultative role. In regards to justice, Nouméa may develop rehabilitation and penitentiary policies, but the substantive criminal law will remain under French jurisdiction. The currency will remain the Franc Pacific, with a fixed exchange rate with the Euro, and New Caledonia will be given authority only to decide on its “symbolic designs.” This configuration is only novel to France’s paradigmatically centralised system, but is common in federal or autonomous states like Germany, Canada, or Spain. The new nickel strategy Nickel extraction may very well be the “de facto” central focus of the Accord. France explicitly links nickel to its, and Europe’s, industrial sovereignty. The Accord seems designed to limit Chinese influence, despite being New Caledonia’s primary nickel customer. After the closure of the Kanaki-controlled Koniambo mine, the Accord seems to resume ”business as usual.” With a weakened economic base, the pro-independence movement appears now more susceptible to concede to French demands. From all the potential infrastructure improvements that could have been proposed, only one is mentioned: improving energy production to ensure nickel production never stops. A new free-associated state? Many headlines focused on the novelty of creating “a state within a nation state.” Unprecedented as it may be under French law, it is not much different from territorial organisations elsewhere. British Overseas Territories keep a constitutional link to the United Kingdom and belong to their sovereignty territory. Cook Islands and Niue are self-governing states in free association with New Zealand, which cannot legislate for them, unlike France. Marshall Islands, Micronesia, and Palau are fully sovereign UN members that receive defence, funding, and social services by the US. In contrast, Puerto Rico is a US unincorporated territory that seems to share some similarities with New Caledonia’s proposed novel status (limited exercise of powers in exchange for federal funding and their citizens holding US passports). In conclusion, the Bougival Accord represents less a breakthrough in global governance than a shift in France’s approach to its former colonies. Most significantly, the Accord points demonstrates a moment of strategic weakness among the pro-independence forces, and a window of opportunity for France to consolidate its strategic presence in the Pacific. However, political gain should come second to protecting an exhausted local population, caught between quarrelling factions, and hoping that any Accord may lead to reconciliation. Their wellbeing is the true key to ensuring a peaceful and prosperous New Caledonia. Ignacio Portela Giráldez is a PhD Candidate at UNSW ADFA, researching the special territories of the European Union and British Overseas Territories. He holds a joint LLM in Comparative International and European Law by Maastricht University and Pompeu Fabra University and a Juris Doctor by the University of Puerto Rico. He is a Lecturer in Human Rights Protection and European Institutions for Criminal Justice at Pompey Fabra University, and is a former Institutional Relations Officer in the Cabinet of the Minister of Foreign Action and European Union of the Government of Catalonia. This article is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.

Analyse Suspended since the coups in Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, political parties are now banned by the ruling praetorians. However, the duration and severity of this democratic pause are difficult to predict. For the past four years, the military regimes in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, now united under the Confederation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), have clung to power by closing the political space to traditional parties. Niger and Mali have begun procedures to dissolve these parties, while the Burkinabe government has banned all political activity since Captain Ibrahim Traoré came to power in September 2022. These measures, which unravel the achievements of the 1990s, are part of a coordinated strategy by the military aimed at consolidating their authority under the guise of political refoundation and the pursuit of national sovereignty. The authoritarian shift, which began subtly, is neither accidental nor isolated. It relies on a well-rehearsed narrative: political parties are responsible for political instability and economic underdevelopment and primarily serve the interests of corrupt elites. However, while banning traditional political groups might offer some apparent short-term stability, it doesn’t provide a viable and sustainable model of governance in societies where the culture of social and political struggles is deeply entrenched. Even if democratic institutions in Central Sahel were far from perfect before the recent coups, they guaranteed political pluralism, the principle of checks and balances, and the rule of law. According to official figures, Burkina Faso is said to have around 200 political parties, Niger 172, and Mali 300—an inflation accused of contributing to the fragmentation of the political landscape. In all systems, and the Sahel is no exception, parties play a key role in connecting the state and its citizens. However, instead of strengthening the social contract, their proliferation, in a context of electoral fatigue, has been perceived by some, including the military, as a factor of disorder and obsolescence of state authority. Towards “development dictatorships” On March 26, the Nigerien authorities officially announced the dissolution of all political parties, which had been suspended since the July 2023 coup d’état. During a televised address, General Abdourahamane Tiani, the head of the country, justified this decision as an act contributing to political refoundation. He cited national unity and the fight against jihadist insecurity and accused the parties of sowing division among citizens. This decision does not appear to have caused any major stir among the population, or the former political class excluded from managing the transition. The military in power in Bamako imitated this by ending political pluralism after a national dialogue that concluded at the end of April. Political pluralism, however, had been hard-won, particularly through the citizens’ struggle against the dictatorship of Moussa Traoré, who was overthrown in March 1991. The traditional political class opposed this and announced they would respond with demonstrations, despite threats of repression. This led General Assimi Goïta to first suspend all political parties and organizations, and then subsequently to formalize their dissolution. In neighboring Burkina Faso, political activities have been banned since the 2022 coup. On April 1st of this year, Captain Traoré unequivocally declared in a state media address to the nation that his country was experiencing a “popular and progressive revolution,” asserting that “never has a country developed through democracy.” This argument, which implicitly advocates for a “development dictatorship,” appeals to a segment of the population who see it as a credible alternative capable of driving modernization and progress. However, like Mali, Burkina Faso—which has previously experienced a one-party system—possesses a rich history of political and social struggle and resistance, making it difficult to reconcile with authoritarian tendencies. Faure Gnassingbé and the Civilian Coup The questioning of liberal democracy – never truly rooted in West Africa – is not the sole preserve of military regimes. In the region, with rare exceptions such as Cape Verde, Ghana, or Senegal (the latter two having sometimes experienced political transitions won through “sweat and blood”), the democratic picture remains broadly grim. While most governments have managed to hold regular elections, the consolidation of democratic practices is far from effective, creating conditions in some states for civilian leaders to manipulate constitutional texts to cling to power. Thus, after a controversial constitutional reform that shifted Togo from a presidential to a parliamentary system, Faure Gnassingbé, who has been in power since 2005, was sworn in on May 3rd as President of the Council of Ministers, now the highest executive office. Under this new system, he can remain in power indefinitely, if his party wins legislative elections. These controversial mandates, often described as civilian coups, are, moreover, leveraged by military governments in the Sahel as proof of the failure of electoral democracy. Although they have some specificities in their political trajectories, the countries of the Central Sahel have all experienced single-party rule and semi-democratic regimes. However, since the national conferences of the 1990s, political parties have never been as threatened as they are today. In Mali, immediately following independence in 1960, a single-party socialist regime was established under the leadership of Modibo Keïta. The 1968 coup d’état, led by the Military Com​mittee for National Liberation under General Moussa Traoré, then a lieutenant, installed an authoritarian police state. This regime, weakened by popular protest and international pressure, only collapsed in March 1991. This ushered in a period of political pluralism, which was tested by Tuareg rebellions in the north of the country and marred by the persistence of clientelist practices that inhibited the democratic promise. Five Unconstitutional Seizures of Power in Niger Burkina Faso’s recent political history, though marked by popular uprisings, remains dominated by a culture of coups d’état. Since gaining independence in 1960, eleven leaders have headed the Burkinabe executive. Of these, only three were civilians, collectively holding power for less than fifteen years. The remaining leaders presided over military regimes, even if some, like Blaise Compaoré’s, attempted to “civilianize” themselves. Like Mali, Burkina Faso’s history includes popular mobilizations that led to the downfall of its first president, Maurice Yaméogo, in 1966, and Compaoré in 2014. However, despite a highly active civil society advocating for the rule of law, democratic practices have struggled to take root. This persistent challenge allows the military to remain the eternal arbiter of the political game. Finally, in Niger, whose political stability has been praised by Western donors over the past two decades, General Abdourahamane Tiani’s coup against President Mohamed Bazoum’s administration on July 26, 2023, brutally highlighted the fragility of the political system. This event marks the fifth unconstitutional seizure of power by the military since independence in 1960. On several occasions, the Nigerian army — or certain segments of it — has intervened to “regulate” a political landscape characterized by clientelism and rent-seeking, demonstrating a praetorian culture deeply rooted in national governance. However, whether in Mali, Burkina Faso, or Niger, none of the preceding regimes had directly confronted political parties. Insecurity and corruption at the heart of discredit Insecurity has been a major factor in the widespread questioning of political parties in the Sahel. While democratic systems, theoretically based on deliberation and consensus-building, possess mechanisms for resolving crises, including in the security domain, none of the civilian regimes—all semi-democratic—have withstood the surge of armed terrorist groups. The worsening security crisis has discredited political parties. This is even though, with their territorial and national roots, they could have helped contain the threat by promoting social cohesion in electoral districts far from the capitals. Even worse, insecurity has largely legitimized the military’s entry into the political arena. This has come at the expense of political parties, which some segments of the public perceive as being more concerned with their electoral interests than with the territorial integrity of their states. As Burkina Faso and Mali crumbled, with vast portions of their territory eroded by jihadists, politicians were vying for the presidential seat, sometimes even at the peril of their own safety. For example, former Malian Prime Minister Soumaïla Cissé was kidnapped by terrorists during the campaign for the March 2020 legislative elections. By freeing themselves from the pressures of regional and international organizations advocating for a return to constitutional order, the military governments of the Sahel have succeeded in imposing the narrative that elections are no longer a national priority. Instead, the urgent need to reclaim Jihadist-held areas has taken precedence. In the current context, as long as the security crisis remains unresolved, liberal democracy appears to have little chance of flourishing in the Sahel. Long before the emergence and expansion of terrorist groups in the region, a disconnect between political parties and the popular masses of the Sahel was already evident. Too often concentrated in large cities, political parties, with rare exceptions, have little presence in rural areas, where they often only appear as elections approach. According to a 2024 survey published by Afrobarometer—a database that collects information on citizens’ political, economic, and social attitudes in over thirty African countries—the preference for democracy remains a minority view in Burkina Faso and Mali. Respectively, 82% and 66% of those surveyed stated they would favor a military takeover if leaders abused their positions for personal gain. As demonstrated earlier, even before the pre-insurrectional period, the democracies in Mali and Burkina Faso were already fragile and challenged with each sociopolitical crisis. 152,500 euros to create a political party However, the closure of political space and repression come at a cost. Silencing dissenting voices, as is currently happening in the three countries, may seem to strengthen the authority of the current regimes in the short term, but it also increases the risks of violent protest. Observing how military regimes in the Sahel operate, relying on popular mobilization, they don’t necessarily seek to abolish party politics but rather to control its parameters. The recommendations from the national dialogue in Mali even leave open the possibility for political actors to create new parties. However, these new formations will have to pay a deposit of 100 million CFA francs (approximately 152,500 euros) to exercise a right otherwise guaranteed by the Constitution. The official dissolution of existing parties in Mali and Niger, combined with stricter conditions for creating new ones, therefore doesn’t signify the advent of governance without parties; rather, it reflects a desire to control the political landscape. Indeed, the populist mode of governance promoted by the military is compatible with the logic of party disappearance, allowing them to maintain a direct relationship with their supporters. However, in Ouagadougou, Bamako, and Niamey, the military will need political intermediaries—parties or movements—to firmly establish their power. By delegitimizing traditional political parties in favor of civil society direction, often encouraged by Western democracies and international organizations in West Africa over the past three decades, the military now relies on organizations with opaque operations, thereby practicing politics by other means. Authoritarianism, even enlightened, is not enough The shrinking of political and civic space in the Sahel marks a decisive turning point, but it’s not unprecedented. Behind rhetoric of sovereignty, national unity, and reform, these decisions primarily aim to concentrate power in the hands of the military and sideline political figures who have been on the stage since the 1990s. By invoking the fight against terrorism, military powers seem intent on evading accountability mechanisms and equating any dissenting voice with a threat to national unity. Yet, the recent history of Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger shows that the repression of political freedoms has never been a bulwark against dissent, nor has it guaranteed lasting stability. By refusing to address the true causes of the crisis – notably institutional fragility, identity cleavages, and the marginalization of rural areas in public policies – the military risks fueling the same dynamics of delegitimization that precipitated the fall of their predecessors. This is especially true given their difficulty in demonstrating greater effectiveness in managing the security crisis than the civilian leaders they overthrew on the grounds of incompetence. In the absence of an effective restoration of state authority across the entire territory, any ambition for democratic renewal appears illusory in the Sahel. While liberal democracy, often poorly applied in the sub-region, has not ensured sustainable economic and social progress, authoritarianism, even supposedly enlightened, cannot offer a credible response to the multidimensional crisis shaking the region. A Crisis of Intermediary Governance The current crisis is, above all, one of governance by intermediaries, whose limitations are now evident. To hope to reverse the trend, military regimes must focus on rebuilding the state, redeploying basic social services, and reconnecting peripheral regions, abandoned to violence, with urban centers. However, for the past four decades, successive governments in the Sahel have favored governance based on informal networks, often to the detriment of strong institutional anchoring in territorial margins. Today more than ever, the Central Sahel needs decentralized, inclusive, and participatory governance. Suppressing dissenting voices and excluding political actors from public debate will only deepen social fractures and plunge the region into a lasting night of despair, poverty, and violence.