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Tag Archive for: Russia
Tag Archive for: Russia
What would victory in Ukraine look like?
Victory in war is sometimes easy to define. World War II ended with Allied troops in control of Berlin and Tokyo, and with the German and Japanese leadership removed. The Vietnam War, on the other hand, ended in a clear defeat for the United States: North Vietnam conquered South Vietnam despite the futile expenditure of 58,000 American lives. The Korean War is sometimes called a stalemate because it never formally ended.
But such definitions can be deceiving. In Iraq, the US removed Saddam Hussein but neither found weapons of mass destruction (the justification for their deployment) nor turned that country into a functioning democracy. Worse, some cynics would argue that the true victor was Iran, which became the most influential political force in Iraq.
On the other hand, though the demilitarised zone remains in place in Korea, the southern half of the peninsula has evolved into a vibrant, prosperous democracy with an annual per capita income of US$35,000, whereas North Korea is a dangerous dictatorship with an estimated annual per capita income of US$1,200 and recurrent food crises. Who won the stalemated war?
This brings us to Ukraine, where the definition of victory depends on the participants’ war aims and time horizons. In 2014, Russia invaded Ukraine on the pretext of protecting Russian speakers in Crimea and parts of the eastern Donbas region. Eight years later, Russia tried to complete the process by destroying Ukraine as an independent state. As Russian President Vladimir Putin wrote in 2021, he did not regard Ukraine as an independent nation but as part of the larger Russian world. He massed troops on the border with the intent of capturing Kyiv in a few days and replacing the Ukrainian government, much as the Soviet Union had done in Budapest in 1956 and Prague in 1968.
He failed. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky rejected advice to flee the country and create a government in exile, and instead rallied his troops, saved the capital, and derailed Putin’s plan. Zelensky subsequently used the soft power of attraction to win foreign support and increase Ukraine’s hard power of military might. The result of Putin’s invasion was to strengthen Ukraine’s national identity and NATO, which has added two new members, Finland and Sweden, that previously had a long-standing policy of neutrality. Judging by Putin’s original war objectives, Ukraine has already won.
The problem, of course, is that Russian troops still control approximately one-fifth of Ukraine’s territory, and Putin has revised his war goals to demand that Ukraine recognise his annexation of four eastern provinces (including some that Russian troops do not fully control). The war seems to be stalemated, but Putin has turned it into a war of attrition. While Russian casualties are enormous, he may be betting that time is on his side, given Russia’s larger population and economy. Eventually, Ukraine’s will to fight may erode, as will Western support.
According to one recent poll, 26 percent of Ukrainians are open to a diplomatic solution, but they are not willing to engage in sham negotiations with an unrepentant Putin. Some 86 percent of Ukrainians believe that Russia is likely to attack again even if a peace treaty is signed. Though both Russia and Ukraine have expressed a willingness to negotiate, they remain far apart. This past summer, Hungary’s Kremlin-friendly prime minister, Viktor Orbán, went to Moscow to try to mediate, but failed to change Putin’s position. Meanwhile, Donald Trump continues to claim that he could settle the war in a day; but it is hard to see how that could be accomplished by anything short of a Ukrainian surrender.
Recently, Czech President Petr Pavel, a former NATO general who has been a strong backer of Ukraine, stated that ‘to talk about a defeat of Ukraine or a defeat of Russia, it will simply not happen. So the end will be somewhere in between.’ Pavel warned that part of Ukrainian territory will remain under Russian occupation temporarily, and that ‘temporarily’ could mean years. If Ukraine defines victory as the return of all land that Russia has occupied since 2014, victory is not in sight. But if it aims to maintain its independence as a democracy linked to Europe, while reserving its right to the ultimate return of its territory, victory remains possible.
But this possible victory also means that Putin must not be able to declare his own victory. Ukraine must be given the support it needs to strengthen its bargaining position. Even if Ukraine cannot achieve its maximalist goals in the short run, the legitimacy of its position would be preserved in the long term as long as Russian gains are not recognised.
This is sometimes referred to as a Korean solution. An armistice and demilitarised zone along the line of control would be monitored by international peacekeepers, so that Russia would draw in many other countries were it to resume its attack. While it may not be possible to get 32 NATO members to agree to Ukraine’s formal membership in the alliance at this time, a group of NATO members calling themselves ‘friends of Ukraine’ could monitor the zone and vow to respond to any new act of Russian aggression.
Finally, Ukraine would also need assistance to rebuild its economy and access to EU markets. While a Korean solution would not satisfy Ukraine’s maximalist goals in the short term, it would certainly deserve to be called a Ukrainian victory.
Envisioning a better peace in Ukraine
With Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war of aggression against Ukraine now well into its third year, there are mounting questions about whether any sort of peace or victory is possible.
Much depends, of course, on how one defines those terms. For Putin, the explicitly stated objective is to eliminate Ukraine as an independent nation-state and subject it to Russian control. Yet after two and a half years and a massive mobilisation of military resources and manpower, Russia controls only around 18 percent of Ukraine’s territory, and most of that was grabbed in 2014. Set against Putin’s war aims, the invasion has been a miserable failure.
Could this change? For a Russian victory to be even remotely possible, the West would need to end all forms of support—financial as well as military—to Ukraine, and the Ukrainian people would need to lose their will to resist. Absent either—or probably both—of these outcomes, Putin’s war aim seems unachievable.
There are no signs of a loss of will on the Ukrainians’ part. While a minority of respondents in opinion polls say they could accept some territorial concessions as a price for ending the war, these losses would fall far short of anything that would eliminate Ukraine from the map.
The many billions of dollars that have been flowing into Ukraine from Europe, the United States and elsewhere have been crucial, and there are indeed questions about whether such support would continue if former US President Donald Trump retakes the White House in November. But one must remember that the even larger sums coming from the European Union represent little more than 0.3 percent of GDP for each member state, on average. With no sign that Europeans’ political will is weakening, this support could perhaps be increased if necessary.
Moreover, Europe’s production of ammunition is expanding, with projections that output will reach two million artillery rounds next year. Russia, meanwhile, seems to be struggling to increase production, and has become increasingly reliant on ammunition from North Korea.
This is part of a larger pattern. The Russian armed forces have consistently failed to pull off any successful large-scale offensive operations since the first weeks of the war. Though they have certainly tried—setting their sights on Kharkiv this summer—they have failed time and again. The bulk of Russian advances have been made by pulverizing smaller cities.
To be sure, the Ukrainian army has had its challenges. It succeeded in pushing Russia back around Kherson and Kharkiv in 2022, but then its highly anticipated counteroffensive in the summer of 2023 failed spectacularly. Still, the sudden offensive into Russia’s Kursk region last month has demonstrated new and impressive capabilities, as well as reminding the world of the Ukrainian forces’ sheer grit and adaptability.
As matters stand, however, the Ukrainian army appears to have little chance of retaking the territory that Russia has occupied. It might well repeat the success of the Kursk operation somewhere along the front lines, which would have important political implications, but achieving sustained results beyond that will be challenging.
As long as Putin and his inner circle believe that they can grind down the will of the Ukrainians and their Western backers, they will continue the war. But when it dawns on them that this will not happen, and that Russia is on a path of increasingly rapid decline, things will change. Though it probably won’t happen this year, it is not unlikely in 2025. Then, perhaps, one can envisage some sort of interim arrangement that ends the fighting, albeit without delivering victory to either side.
A lasting peace, however, is a more challenging prospect. I don’t think it will be possible until two conditions are met. First, Putin would have to lose power. He controls the Kremlin and Russian society with an iron grip, and he is far too wedded to his imperial obsession ever to accept a real peace. Second, Ukraine’s future must be firmly secured by membership in the EU and reliable Western security arrangements.
Then, and only then, might peace be possible. Such an outcome would be a victory not only for Ukraine, but also for Russia. Freed from self-destructive imperial projects, it could finally start to work on becoming a normal, prosperous, 21st-century nation-state.
The 12 elements of cold war 2.0
The contours of a new and dangerous era are in place. The world has gone from a chilly peace to a new cold war.
Cold war 2.0 has rhymes from version 1.0, yet the origin stories emphasise the differences.
The 20th century cold war was bred by victory and failure, a child of war and depression; ideology was its heart as two secular religions—communism and democracy—fought Europe’s last ‘religious’ war.
The new cold war carries less ideological baggage, born from decades of peace in Europe and Asia and a wonderful period of economic and scientific achievement.
Version 2.0 draws on the successes of globalisation in the post-cold war space, a golden age. But that warmth has faded and turned icy as it veers away from borderless optimism to revive the contest of great powers.
These are the elements of cold war 2.0:
1. The United States versus China: the two superpowers face off in the contest of the century. The balance between cooperation and competition will keep them from crashing into conflict.
2. Multipolarity: Cold war 1.0 saw the non-aligned nations standing as far as possible from the bipolar divide, seeking individual benefits from the Soviet Union and the US. Today, everyone must dance. The non-aligned option flowers as many shades of multi-alignment. Nations choose where they stand on each issue, and keep making fresh choices. In the multipolar dance, China and the US must court, not demand, commitment.
3. Indo-Pacific: The central balance of international power this century will be set in the Indo-Pacific. Australia’s Defence Strategic Review declares: ‘The Indo-Pacific is the most important geostrategic region in the world’. The National Defence Strategy judges that the global competition is ‘sharpest and most consequential in the Indo-Pacific’.
4. Economics: The world’s top two economies wrestle and wrangle, even as they work together in an economic relationship that is huge, entrenched and multifaceted. Washington says the main challenge it faces is ‘competition in an age of interdependence’. This economic intimacy is a vital difference between 1.0 and 2.0.
5. De-risking: The vogue word is ‘decoupling’, but that bumps hard against what globalisation delivers. Derisking is limited deglobalisation. Washington’s ‘small yard and high fence’ approach walls off vital industries, science and minerals to China. This will draw supply chains closer, applying the cold war test to trade policy and business regulation. Geoeconomics will turn mercantilist and protectionist.
6. Technology race: China has the foundations to be the world’s technology superpower in major and emerging technologies. ASPI’s critical technology tracker identified China as the leading country in 57 of 64 technologies, spanning defence, space, energy, the environment, artificial intelligence, biotechnology, robotics, cyber, computing, advanced materials and quantum. The US and its allies face an extraordinary tech challenge.
7. Cyber-attacks and artificial intelligence: The cyber domain is where the cold war rages every day. The grey zone battlefield is a constant, pervasive digital conflict of theft, espionage, malware, disinformation and fakes. Artificial intelligence is the revolution that will remake much. The realm ‘of minds and machines’ is the arms race of 2.0. The US aims to build norms on responsible military use of AI and autonomy, seeing control negotiations with Beijing on AI just as it does on nuclear weapons.
8. Nuclear: The nuclear threat is more complex and less predictable. Russia revives the nightmare, repeatedly threatening to use nuclear weapons in Ukraine. The structural change is China’s build-up. Beijing is on track to amass 1,000 nuclear warheads, up from around 200 in 2019. The US Defence Department describes ‘a new nuclear age’ of rapidly modernizing and expanding nuclear arsenals, ‘an unprecedented mix of multiple revisionist nuclear challengers who are uninterested in arms control or risk reduction’, openly threatening to employ nuclear weapons to achieve their aims.
9. Space: Space is a military operational domain. Satellites revolutionised intelligence and warfighting, allowing every inch of earth to be watchable and targetable. The moon will matter in 2.0 just as it did in 1.0. The race is on between China, Russia and the US to put men and women on the moon.
10. Russia: Putin’s Russia is dangerous, yet dependent on China. The ‘vassal’ label has some truth. The ‘no limits partnership’ is just short of a conventional alliance—the limit is what China decides. Russia was a principal in 1.0; in 2.0 it is a partner.
11. Democracy versus autocracy: Ideology doesn’t drive 2.0 as it did 1.0, yet this is still a key division that defines the struggle over power and principles. China wants to make the world safe for autocracies, to privilege power over rules. US President Joe Biden says the world is at an ‘inflection point’ in a clash between democracy and autocracy.
12. War: In 1.0, the proxy wars were in Asia. Now the US-China proxy war is in Europe.
Cold war 2.0 shares the same purpose as version 1.0: keep the superpower contest cool enough to avoid Armageddon. The new competition must seek balance, find understandings, build confidence and develop guardrails.
Territorial integrity is the base of European security
Since 2014, Russia has brazenly violated Ukraine’s territorial integrity with incursions, illegal annexations and a full-scale invasion. And now Ukraine is violating Russia’s territorial integrity with its own incursion into the Kursk region.
There is, of course, a substantial difference between the two cases. The Russian Federation has officially, albeit illegally, absorbed Crimea and conquered territory in Ukraine’s Donbas region, and Vladimir Putin makes no secret of his intention to subjugate all of Ukraine. By contrast, Ukraine has made no territorial claims on any Russian land.
Still, for Europeans, territorial integrity is key, and Ukraine’s counteroffensive has brought the issue back into focus. While countries may have different reasons for supporting Ukraine in the conflict, defending the principle of territorial integrity is a shared imperative. After all, most of Europe’s borders were drawn in blood, and allowing them to be redrawn now would invite even more bloodshed. For decades, the current borders have been sacrosanct, because everyone understands that territorial integrity is the foundation underpinning peace on a continent that, until 1945, had been ravaged by centuries of war.
When the multinational, polyglot state of the Soviet Union broke up more than three decades ago, this principle was fundamental to achieving a mostly peaceful transition. In drafting the Belovezha Accords in December 1991, the leaders of key Soviet republics agreed that existing borders must be fully respected, even though many of them did not follow any ethnic or geographic logic. Uzbekistan’s Fergana Valley might be the most obvious example, and a dangerous insurrection did erupt there three decades ago. Similarly, Crimea was a highly controversial territorial issue at the time.
Nonetheless, those overseeing the post-Soviet transition were keenly aware that the alternative to accepting existing borders would be widespread mayhem. Thus, despite opposition from more ardently nationalist voices, the Russian parliament duly ratified the accord and accepted all the borders outlined therein.
Meanwhile, leaders of what was then the European Community had organised a commission of eminent jurists, led by the Frenchman Robert Badinter, to draw up principles for managing the emerging crisis in Yugoslavia. Once again, borders were the central issue. The Balkans had always been a linguistic, ethnic, and confessional mosaic of peoples, and the borders established over the course of the preceding centuries did not reflect these distinctions. The Badinter Commission concluded that they must be respected nonetheless, lest the region descend into chaos and bloodshed.
European leaders duly accepted the commission’s recommendation and made territorial integrity a cornerstone of their effort to manage the breakup of Yugoslavia. There would still be complications, of course. The status of Kosovo was contested, since it had not quite been a full republic along with the others. If it had been granted a status similar to the other former Yugoslav republics back in 1991, recognising its independence would have been straightforward.
But that didn’t happen. Not until 2008, following several extensive diplomatic efforts both within and outside the United Nations, did some countries accept that recognising Kosovo’s independence was the only realistic way forward. Even here, though, borders were deemed sacrosanct.
To be sure, some borders were redrawn without violence during this period, such as when Czechoslovakia harmoniously divided into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. But this process followed a mutual agreement among all concerned, and the principle of territorial integrity remained paramount.
Similarly, when large-scale rebellions broke out in Chechnya in the mid-1990s and again in 1999, resulting in two extremely bloody wars, European leaders never even hinted that they would recognise any declarations of independence by those hoping to break away from the Russian Federation.
But then, in 2008, Russia itself violated the principle of territorial integrity by recognising, and militarily supporting, declarations of independence from Georgia by Abkhazia and South Ossetia. This redrawing of borders fooled no one, with not even Belarus recognising the breakaway regions’ independence. But it was a sign of what was yet to come in Ukraine in 2014 and 2022.
It is all too easy to dust off an old map and lay claim to some territory that might have flown a different flag once upon a time. In Europe, this impulse has been the source of many wars. In the case of Kursk, the region was once part of the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth, which dominated the area for centuries. But that is irrelevant now, as is Catherine the Great’s annexation of Crimea from the Ottoman Empire in 1783.
Respect for territorial integrity is the base on which European peace, security, and prosperity stand. If this principle no longer holds, neither will the world we take for granted.
Forget NATO membership for Ukraine; instead trade it for Ukrainian sovereignty
Recent calls for Ukraine to join NATO are unrealistic at best and unwise at worst. Arguments advanced typically rely on a series of myths about membership: that NATO membership for Ukraine could plausibly end the war, that it would sustainably keep the peace, and that support for it is a realistic possibility.
Advancing these myths ultimately worsens Ukraine’s security, because it takes off the table the best option for ending today’s devasting war: a negotiated settlement in which continued Ukrainian neutrality is accepted in return for leaving it sovereign and militarily strong, capable of fending off future Russian assaults.
For starters, Russia is categorically unwilling to countenance any endgame that involves Ukrainian accession to NATO. Russian President Vladimir Putin waged his bloody war of conquest for many reasons. But one driver was his fear that Ukraine was slowly inching towards membership in the alliance.
In 2008, NATO offered Ukraine a Membership Action Plan, formally putting it on the path to membership in the alliance. That same year, US ambassador to Russia (and now CIA Director) William Burns presciently warned that membership was Putin’s ‘brightest of all red lines.’
But Putin understands an inconvenient reality: NATO will never admit a state at war with Russia, since that would oblige the alliance to also declare war on Moscow. One reason for his attack was to take membership off the table—beginning in 2014 with seizure of Crimea and covert operations in the Donbas, not in 2022 with the full assault.
Since NATO membership can only happen when the war ends, those advocating Ukraine’s accession are actually prolonging the fighting—reminding Putin that if he allows the guns go silent, he may be forced to swallow an intolerable outcome.
But even if Ukraine were able to join NATO, it would not get a reliable shield. In fact, there would be serious questions about the credibility of any pledge to defend it. NATO’s Article 5 has been described by President Joe Biden as a ‘sacred commitment’ to ‘literally defend every inch of NATO.’ Such a promise to fight what could become a nuclear war against Russia was made credible in the Cold War by the belief that the US might be willing to ‘trade New York for Bonn’, as was said at the time, bolstered by US operational planning to use nuclear weapons in the defense of Europe.
Yet Biden also said in 2022 that Washington was unwilling to ‘fight World War III in Ukraine.’
Membership today would raise an obvious question: had US interests in Ukraine changed so dramatically in just two years? Are Americans suddenly willing to risk New York for Kyiv?
NATO membership would put Ukraine in a reverse-goldilocks position: it would be in a new status quo that Moscow viewed as intolerable and itched to undermine, and it would lack a credible commitment from allies to deter Russian challenges. Moscow would be tempted to probe, perhaps starting below the threshold of direct war to test Western responses but eventually escalating. The alliance could face an excruciating dilemma: fight Russia in what could become a nuclear war, or watch the European security architecture crumble?
Worse, the proposal is not merely unwise but impossible. Even Biden, more Atlanticist than is foreseeable for a future US president, is firmly against NATO accession, saying he’s ‘not prepared to support the NATO-ization of Ukraine.’ Neither are such West European states as Germany, let alone those that try to balance relations with Russia (Turkey) or those that flagrantly appease it (Hungary). For a 32-member alliance that admits new members by consensus, this is an insurmountable problem.
Dangling an invitation that will realistically never be granted is not cost-free. It replicates the failures of 2008, when NATO’s vague pledge was the worst of all worlds: leaving Ukraine stuck in the waiting room and provoking Russian reprisals without receiving any protections.
However, what has until now been a mistake could be turned into an opportunity. Ukraine need not unilaterally renounce NATO membership but could instead leverage Moscow’s deep anxiety over the possibility. Were Ukraine willing in negotiations to take NATO off the table, this would likely be met with significant Russian concessions.
In fact, negotiations at the outset of the 2022 war saw Russian negotiators reportedly willing to give up all conquered territory if Ukraine would remain neutral. Russia’s position now is stronger than it was at the start of the war, and Ukraine has continually struggled to dislodge it, so such a deal today would likely be less favorable. In practice, it may mean Ukraine agreeing to a ceasefire on current lines, or getting back some territory while ultimately falling short of regaining all that it seeks. But Ukraine would remain a sovereign nation still in control of the great majority of its territory (including key industrial centers and land that gives it Black Sea access).
While Ukraine would not be a treaty ally, the West would do its part to support it, likely through security guarantees that pledged peacetime supply of weapons and through financing Ukraine’s reconstruction and supporting its accession to the European Union. Neutrality now does not mean neutrality forever—consider Finland’s long, 75-year journey from neutrality to NATO—but it does mean closing the door to accession under current conditions.
The result would be a sovereign, prosperous Ukraine. Ukraine would have made itself militarily capable of defending this new status quo while also removing a prime irritant that might cause Russia to seek to change that condition. This would be a victory that was once unthinkable, won by two years of Ukrainian valiance. It’s also superior to the alternative of continuing to vaguely dangle membership—which won’t be granted, prolongs the war and would undoubtedly leave Ukraine less safe.
AI complacency is compromising Western security
Just as the West has been forced into confrontation with Russia and China, military conflicts have revealed major systemic weaknesses in the US and European militaries and their defence-industrial bases.
These problems stem from fundamental technology trends. In Ukraine, expensive manned systems such as tanks, combat aircraft and warships have proven extremely vulnerable to inexpensive unmanned drones, cruise missiles, and guided missiles. Russia has already lost more than 8,000 armored vehicles, a third of its Black Sea fleet and many combat aircraft, leading it to move its expensive manned systems farther from combat zones.
Inexpensive mass-produced drones made by China, Russia, Iran, Turkey and now Ukraine have become both crucial offensive weapons and valuable tools for surveillance, targeting, and guidance. Often based on widely available commercial products, drones are being produced by the million at a cost of just US$1,000 to US$50,000 apiece. Yet no such drones are made in the United States or Western Europe—a major weakness in the West’s industrial base and military posture.
While Russian, Chinese and Iranian drones are easy to destroy using existing Western systems, the costs are prohibitive, ranging from $100,000 to $3 million per target. This unsustainable ratio is the result of decades of complacency and bureaucratic inefficiency. No legacy Western contractor produces a cost-competitive anti-drone system—though several US and Ukrainian start-ups are developing them now.
Worse, this situation is merely a prelude to a future of unmanned autonomous weapons. Most current drones are either controlled remotely by a human or simplistically guided by GPS or digital maps. But new AI technologies, based largely on publicly available academic research and commercial products, will soon transform warfare, and possibly terrorism, too.
AI-enabled drones can already operate in highly coordinated swarms, for example by enabling an attacker to surround a target and prevent its escape. Targeting itself is becoming extremely precise—down to the level of identifying an individual face, an item of religious clothing or a specific vehicle license plate—and drone swarms are increasingly able to navigate through cities, forests, and buildings. One example among many is a 2022 paper published in Science Robotics by Chinese academic researchers showing drone navigation through a forest.
Commercial and military humanoid robots are next. Videos published by researchers at Stanford University in January, based on their recent research, show AI-driven robots performing household tasks including pan-frying seafood and cleaning up spilled wine. While cooking shrimp is far from operating a sniper rifle or assembling missile components, there is wide agreement that the ChatGPT moment in humanoid robotics has arrived.
AI-driven products, both military and commercial, depend on a complex, layered technology stack, at the base of which is semiconductor capital equipment (the high-precision machines that make the chips), followed by semiconductors (such as Nvidia’s AI processors), data centers, AI models and their training data, AI cloud services, hardware product design, manufacturing and application, and systems engineering. The US, Western Europe, Taiwan, and South Korea collectively are still ahead of China (and Russia) in most of these areas, but their lead is narrowing, and China already dominates world markets for mass-produced dual-use hardware such as drones and robots.
The Western response to this challenge has so far been woefully inadequate. Export controls on AI-enabling technologies are limited to semiconductor capital equipment and processors, and even these have been resisted, loosened and evaded. While exports of high-end AI processors to China have been banned, access to US cloud services using those same processors remains open, and Nvidia now provides China with AI processors nearly as powerful but specially tailored to comply with US export controls. There are no export or licensing controls whatsoever on AI research, models, or training data.
Although some US companies, such as Google, have kept their AI models proprietary and restricted Chinese access to their technology, others have done the opposite. While OpenAI prohibits direct Chinese access to its application programming interfaces (APIs), those same APIs remain available through Microsoft. Meanwhile, Meta has embraced a fully open-source strategy for its AI efforts, and the venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz is lobbying to prevent export controls (or indeed any regulatory restrictions) on open-source AI models.
The US and European technology sectors are thus behaving like a circular firing squad, with individual firms attempting to sell as much to China as possible. By trying to gain a lead on its immediate competitors, each firm weakens the long-run position of all the others and ultimately even its own. If this continues, the foreseeable result is that the US and Western Europe will fall behind China—and even behind Russia, Iran, or decentralised terrorist groups—both in AI-driven warfare and in commercial AI applications.
Many technologists and managers in Silicon Valley and government organisations are aware of this risk and are very disturbed by it. But, despite some significant initiatives (such as the Defense Innovation Unit within the Pentagon), there has been relatively little change in defense-industry behavior or government policy.
This situation is particularly absurd, given the obvious opportunity for a hugely advantageous grand bargain: industry acquiescence to government-enforced export controls in return for government-supported collective bargaining with China in technology licensing, market access and other commercial benefits. Notwithstanding a few areas of genuine tension, there is a strikingly high degree of alignment between national-security interests and the long-run collective interests of the Western technology sector.
The logical strategy is for the US government and the European Union to serve as bargaining agents on behalf of Western industry when dealing with China. That means acting in concert with industry, while also retaining the power and independence necessary to establish and enforce stringent controls (which the industry should recognise are in its own long-term interest).
Unfortunately, this is not where things are currently headed. Although policymakers and technologists are waking up to the threat, the underlying technology is now moving dramatically faster than policy debates and legislative processes—not to mention the product cycles of the Pentagon and legacy defense contractors. AI development is progressing so blindingly fast that even the US start-up system is straining to keep up. That means there is no time to lose.
Korolev case suggests Australia isn’t immune from ideological spying
It seems that espionage, specifically driven by ideology, is making a comeback—a motivation we in the West have naively considered a relic of the past, especially when directed against us. And if the Russian-born Brisbane couple charged with espionage last month were indeed motivated by ideology, their case is a troubling sign for Australia’s security.
Kira and Igor Korolev allegedly attempted a clandestine operation to funnel sensitive information to Russia by exploiting the Defence network access of Kira, a private in the army. Australian Security Intelligence Organisation Director-General Mike Burgess and Australian Federal Police Commissioner Reece Kershaw said in a joint statement: ‘Multiple countries are seeking to steal Australia’s secrets. We cannot be naive, and we cannot be complacent. Espionage is not some quaint Cold War notion; espionage damages our economy and degrades our strategic advantage. It has catastrophic real-world consequences.’
The Korolevs’ motivations are still uncertain, as is determining when, where, how, or even if they were recruited by Russian intelligence. The Russian Embassy responded by requesting written information on the pair and said the story was stoking anti-Russian paranoia.
More will be known when the Korolevs face a magistrates court on 20 September. But their alleged behaviour does have all the telltale signs of ideologically motivated espionage, or ideological spying.
A common framework used for understanding espionage motivations is MICE: money, ideology, coercion (or compromise) and ego. During the late 20th century, in the twilight and aftermath of the Cold War, M and E seemed to be the dominant motivations. Notable cases involved people with top secret access being co-opted by, or volunteering to, a foreign intelligence service and passing on sensitive information in exchange for money and gifts. The potency of this process can be compounded by a boost to the conspirator’s ego. High profile cases such as the FBI’s Robert Hanssen , arrested in 2001 after almost two decades on-and-off spying for Russian intelligence, are typical in this regard.
Ideological spying is different. It’s driven by a desire to promote, protect or support an ideology. The definition is deliberately broad, because the ideologies can be in a large range: nationalistic, political, social or religious.
Also, an espionage case may have a mix of MICE factors.
A notorious recent ideological spying case was that of Ana Montes, an analyst for the US Defense Intelligence Agency who spied for Cuba her entire career. She later claimed, ‘I felt morally obligated to help [Cuba] defend itself from our efforts to impose our values and our political system on it.’
Ideological spying is dangerous for the government and society at large. As opposed to espionage fuelled by money or ego, it can leave less of a paper trail for authorities to follow. Hiding a pile of ill-gotten goods is harder than hiding an idea. Although there might be traceable activity associated with ideology, such as meetings or travel, underlying beliefs can go for years without detection. And, because it is attached to an actor’s core beliefs, ideological espionage is one of the most potent and motivated forms of spying. If inspired by ideology, agents are often the most disciplined, effective and self-driven, as was the case with Montes and other Cuban spies within the US government.
Concerningly, ideological espionage cases seem to be trending upward globally. Preliminary research by ASPI’s Statecraft & Intelligence Centre suggests that ideology was a motivating factor in 35 of 79 espionage cases identified in western countries since 2000, or 44 percent. This is noteworthy, as within a previously published academic dataset with similar parameters spanning 1940 to 1989, ideology accounted for only 24 percent of cases. There was an intuitive sense that ideological spying against the West had dried up almost completely by the end of the 20th century, following the early successes of Soviet espionage from the 1930s to 1950s. Actually, ideological spying persists and deserves further research and attention.
Australia suffered a wave of Soviet-inspired ideological spying in the 1940s, as revealed by the US Venona counterintelligence effort and revelations from the defection in 1954 of Vladimir and Evdokia Petrov, spies who had masqueraded in Canberra as diplomats. But more recently Australia has seemingly been spared from ideological spying. Espionage cases have been venal and pathetic, exemplified by the (unrelated) cases of two Defence Intelligence Organisation officers, Jean-Phillipe Wispelaere in 1999 and Simon Lappas in 2000, neither of whom had an ideological motive. Those cases lacked complexity, sophisticated efforts to avoid detection and an inner drive and motivation. The alleged espionage by the Korolevs looks different.
Their case may prove to be a wakeup call that Australia is no longer safe from ideological spying. Kira Korolev was allegedly able to slip through vetting for a secret-level clearance, despite a clear and abiding connection to her country of birth, Russia. That included reports that she was a member of several Russian-Australian expat groups on social media. She was also able to allegedly hide her frequent trips to Russia whilst on leave from the Australian Defence Force, all the while being used literally as a poster girl for ADF recruitment. She was front and centre in two ADF recruitment campaign videos, saying ‘I can join as [an] IT specialist, because the full training is provided [by the ADF]. Every day I am administering the system making sure that … we don’t have any security breaches.’ And she ironically concluded by saying she got to ‘serve the nation that I love.’
Defence’s vetting capabilities have been criticised by commentators and by the parliamentary opposition, with Kira Korolov offered up as potentially first-hand evidence of systems and processes not being up to scratch. This alleged shortfall is compounded with the ADF’s current workforce shortage.
But Burgess has replied to these criticisms, saying ‘Vetting is not a solution that stops problems. If you meet the requirements to get a security clearance, you’ll get a security clearance, but that doesn’t mean to say the security journey stops at this point.’
The most dangerous possibility is that the Korolevs are a sign of things to come, or that there are many clandestine ideological actors in Australia. Rising global tensions, such as the war in Ukraine, conflict in Gaza and clashes in the South China Sea, are deepening ideological commitments. The Korolev case could indicate that Australia is no longer immune from this phenomenon. As Burgess says, the security journey does not stop at this point.
The government should acknowledge ideological spying as a real threat, and this acknowledgment should inform subsequent actions. This could include giving more weight to ideological factors within initial vetting processes, and more closely tracking signs of ideological concerns in continuous security screening.
A hillbilly elegy for Ukraine and the West
In a commentary published by The New York Times in April, J D Vance, now the Republican vice-presidential nominee, proposed a strategy of ‘defence’ for Ukraine that was nothing but a recipe for defeat. There can be no doubt that his words were closely read, and well received, in Beijing and Moscow. Appeasing Russia at Ukraine’s expense would amount to a major strategic loss for the United States and thus a victory for its adversaries.
Vance’s advocacy for appeasement should surprise no one. In a 2022 podcast with Donald Trump’s (currently imprisoned) political guru Steve Bannon, Vance said: ‘I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine one way or another.’ His argument essentially is that because Russia is larger than Ukraine, it can lob more bombs and missiles than the Ukrainians and their Western backers can handle.
Russia undoubtedly is bigger than Ukraine. But if that is grounds for Ukraine to accept defeat, the same argument could be applied to eight other neighboring countries that were at some point part of the Russian or Soviet empires. Vance is effectively green-lighting Vladimir Putin’s aspiration to resurrect the old empire through conquest. The only neighbor left would be China, Russia’s ‘no-limits’ partner.
A resurrected Great Russia, in alliance with today’s China, would change the world order. In fact, this is precisely the outcome that both countries’ leaders want. An America in strategic retreat—abandoning Kabul and then Kyiv—would encourage the Eurasian authoritarian bloc to go on the offensive. Taiwan’s days would be numbered, and others might fold even before that happens.
The Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz famously taught us that war is a contest of political wills. Arsenals and battalions certainly count, but they often are not what matters in the end. The outcome in Afghanistan was not decided by which side had more artillery ammunition. Again, if you believe that firepower is everything, you must also believe that Taiwan should just go ahead and surrender.
Putin has made no secret of his war aims. While ‘interviewing’ the Russian leader this past February, the right-wing activist Tucker Carlson did us a great favor by letting his subject ramble on about his dream of wiping Ukraine off the map. The issue was never really about Ukrainians who spoke Russian or about NATO expansion or anything else. Rather, having resurrected the classic Russian imperialist view, Putin believes that Ukraine simply has no right to exist as an independent state.
Where this logic ends is anyone’s guess. After all, Poland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan were all once part of the empire that Putin seeks to restore. If Ukraine can be defeated because the US decided to walk away, all bets are off. With so many countries that are smaller than Russia, Vance would have to repeat his facile argument ad nauseum.
The defense of Ukraine obviously rests primarily with the Ukrainians. It is their blood soaking into the battlefield, and it is they who have shouldered the awesome responsibility of defending the West despite the odds against them. When the war started, no one expected them to last more than a few weeks, maybe not days. But they did, inflicting grievous damage on Russia’s military. That alone is a victory of sorts.
The price the rest of us are paying is minute. For EU member states, it amounts to around 0.3 percent of gross domestic product, on average, a little more than one-tenth of their defense spending; for the US, it is significantly less. True, Europe has allowed its own defense industrial bases—the capacity to produce everything from artillery ammunition to air-defense missiles—to decay. But allowing Russia to swallow Ukraine would not relieve us of the burden of correcting that mistake. On the contrary, we would be left with an even more threatening strategic environment. The aggressor in the Kremlin would be on the march.
Vance is not wrong to argue that Ukraine’s strategy now should be primarily defensive. Last year’s counteroffensive made little headway and fell far short of its goals. But rather than withdrawing support for Ukraine, we should recognise that it is the only credible strategy for achieving some semblance of peace down the road. To stand by and let Russian bombers pulverise Kharkiv and Odesa would let loose the dogs of war for years to come.
Eventually, the guns will fall silent. But no true peace will be possible until Putin’s imperial dream has been defeated. Russia must accept its role as a normal nation-state among others, and Ukraine’s democracy and security must be secured through integration into the Euro-Atlantic institutions. Only then should the details of the relationship between Kyiv and Moscow be sorted out.
I agree with Vance that Europeans bear a huge responsibility here. But he should know that European financial support already exceeds that of the US and that the European Union has started the process of making Ukraine a formal member. That is a huge, strategically important step.
But it is not just European security that is at stake. In his address to the US Congress this past April, Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida did not mince words: ‘Ukraine today could be East Asia tomorrow.’ Will Vance advocate appeasement there, too? If so, and if the Republicans win the US presidency in November, we will find ourselves in a world where Western values and interests are fully in retreat.
Switzerland summit should give peace a chance, but only on Ukraine’s terms
This weekend’s Summit on Peace in Ukraine is a misnomer. It’s not about an immediate end to the war but about finding ways to strengthen Ukraine’s hand so that it heads to the negotiating table on its own terms and timing, and that we have a reasonable chance of a peace that is both acceptable and durable.
Hosted by Switzerland, it will bring together leaders from about 100 countries ranging from Germany and France to Japan and Southeast Asian nations.
Russia has not been invited and has said it wouldn’t attend anyway. That’s good, because the goal cannot be to seek agreement on a ceasefire just to stop the fighting by any means. As with Crimea in 2014, a confected outcome would enable Russia simply to ease off until it feels confident to resume its invasion.
Instead, the conference should rally behind the Ronald Reagan doctrine of peace through strength. As Reagan told the 1980 Republican party convention—in remarks that some of today’s Republicans might usefully heed: ‘War comes not when the forces of freedom are strong but when they are weak. It is then that tyrants are tempted.’
This will likely require a willingness to escalate the conflict in the short term to ensure de-escalation can happen on Ukraine’s terms and to all of our long term benefit.
The conference attendees cannot allow—perfectly legitimate—humanitarian concerns, short term economic challenges or disinformation peddled by regimes propping up the Russian war machine to distract from the harsh reality—Ukraine has chosen as a nation to fight bravely at great human cost. Given they are fighting for basic values that keep the rest of us safer—as Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has said as he increasingly desperately seeks continued international support—we owe the nation a post-war reconstruction and political plan that enables them to live with some confidence as Russia’s neighbour. This means not only helping Ukraine with the capabilities to fight against Russia but to help give them something to fight for.
No one would deny that this is a tough road for Ukraine and, in different ways, for its supporters internationally. But the price of allowing Russia to win or to enjoy impunity for the most flagrant violation of international rules in decades is incalculable for global security and stability.
That is the case for countries as geographically distant as Australia. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese is not attending, and nor is any other minister on the National Security Committee of Cabinet.
This is disappointing for a democracy such as Australia, which enjoys security and prosperity because of support from other democracies in times of war—both hot and cold. True, China’s Premier Li Qiang is visiting in the coming days, but the Peace Summit is too important a gathering for not one of our key ministers to attend—and it would be deeply worrying if any senior government ministers and officials undervalue Europe’s importance to Australia and view the war as being fought a long way from our shores.
That said, it is positive that the minister attending, National Disability and Insurance Scheme Minister Bill Shorten will be viewed internationally as a former leader of the opposition—a very senior figure in the mould of Kim Beazley—with orthodox views on security.
As a former party and union leader, Shorten will take with him the experience that any type of negotiation—whether employment, trade, political or peace—is a contest in which the respective strength of each party is vital to the outcome and its lasting nature.
A favourable outcome to the war is not just a regional dilemma for Europe but is important for Australia and the Indo-Pacific, and any Russian ‘win’ would translate into insecurity for us.
There are no perfect analogies between Europe and the Indo-Pacific. The European theatre is predominantly land, while the Indo-Pacific is maritime, which means lessons at the operational level must be carefully interpreted. However, the strategic and political parallels are clear, from the global trust in liberal democracies and the US alliance system to confidence in effective constraint of aggressive authoritarian regimes and longstanding nuclear deterrence. A future in which Russia cannot be beaten back and deterrence effectively re-established in Europe automatically means deterrence is immeasurably weaker everywhere else, including in our region.
As Japan’s Prime Minister Kishida consistently states, ‘today’s Ukraine could be tomorrow’s East Asia’.
Indeed, the likely reason China is skipping the summit is that Beijing correctly judges it will not further Russia’s, and therefore its own, war aims. A Russian victory would recalibrate expectations about authoritarian aggression being held to account, and this would clearly benefit Beijing.
China is supporting Russia economically and materially, propping up its industrial capacity and supplying dual use goods that enable Russia to restock weapons and parts of weapons. Throughout history, wars have most often been won by out-producing the enemy.
This should be called out through a joint statement at the conference. A declaration that condemns countries such as North Korea and Iran for supporting Russia but stays silent on China would represent an appeasement that would only embolden Beijing to dig its heels in to help a Russian victory.
Prominent opponents of support for Ukraine tend to be isolationists or to be narrowly China-focused. The latter claim that the US and allied effort must not be distracted by Europe and should be aimed only at countering China as the pacing and long-term threat. They’re right that Beijing is the more enduring challenge, but they are wrong to think that tolerating Russia’s onslaught against its neighbour would better place us to tackle China’s own malign activity.
To deter all of Russia, China, Iran and North Korea, none can be ignored or tolerated. Freedom and sovereignty are not protected by picking and choosing which international rules are enforced and which regimes are appeased.
Australia and our region depend on the rules-based order even though some loud voices criticise the concept as increasingly quixotic. A world without rules such as the observance of other states’ territorial integrity and freedom of navigation at sea is worse than anarchy—it would mean aggressive authoritarian states such as Russia and China are free to achieve their strategic goals at the expense of others’ freedom and sovereignty while the rest of us live in hope that our silence and passivity means we are not next.
This means Australia should be firmly in the camp of helping Ukraine to determine any peace agreement to end the war. It cannot be resolved by other countries—or individual leaders—negotiating with Putin without Ukraine.
Given the relatively small cost of supporting Ukraine, Beijing would only interpret our giving up Ukraine as a sign of general western weakness, indifference, short-sightedness and self-absorption. It would be emboldened.
The argument that supporting Ukraine amounts to an opportunity cost to more important priorities just doesn’t add up, considering the cost of Ukraine support is actually very mild. Indeed some might argue it is the bargain of a lifetime—as the Ukrainians are doing the fighting.
The objective for this conference must be peace through strength—both Ukraine’s and our own.
How Russia’s invasion of Ukraine impacts global food security
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine demonstrates how conflict impacts food security. This nexus will be exacerbated by the impact of climate change, as factors such as increasing temperatures, rising sea levels and frequent hazards become more severe and the compounding impacts of geopolitical conflict and climate change worsen the state of global food security to an extent not seen before.
As Deputy Prime Minister and Defence Minister Richard Marles said in the 2023 national defence statement, which prefaces the defence strategic review, it’s in Australia’s interest to work with the Indo-Pacific region and beyond to address the challenges posed by climate change and increasing strategic competition.
Russia and Ukraine are key suppliers to the global food market and together constituted 12% of global food trade between 2019 and 2021. However, since 2022, the export of grain, sunflower oil and other products from Ukraine has been drastically cut by Russia’s blockade of the Black Sea ports. The Black Sea grain initiative was established to ensure the safe passage of grain from Ukraine but Russia withdrew from the agreement.
Blocking these exports has contributed to an increase in global crop and food prices, which were already higher than pre-Covid-19 levels. Higher food prices have worsened hunger and poverty around the world, with 345 million people now in immediate danger from acute food insecurity. In addition, disruptions in the Suez Canal due to attacks on ships in the Red Sea along with plummeting transits in the Panama Canal due to dwindling water levels from climate change-induced drought have compounded global food insecurity.
Although distant from the Ukraine conflict, the Indo-Pacific region is similarly being impacted by food insecurity. Even Australia, as a highly food secure country and a net exporter of food, is not immune. Australia is an open trading nation that is very susceptible to what’s occurring on the global food market. A near record increase in food prices in Australia has been driven by factors including the conflict in Ukraine, Covid-19 and climate-induced disasters such as drought. For example, the global spike in wheat prices due to the war drove up Australia’s bread and cereal prices.
Indonesia, as one of the largest importers of Ukrainian grain, is also suffering from food insecurity due to the war. The experiences of Indonesia and the Global South more broadly, drove President Joko Widodo’s decision to meet with Vladimir Putin and Volodymyr Zelensky in 2022. In a press conference after his meeting with Putin, Widodo reiterated his desire for the war to end as soon as possible and for food, fertiliser and energy supply chains to be restored immediately.
Climate pressures in countries like Indonesia are expected to worsen. As global warming reaches 1.5 °C, likely within a decade, El Niño events will increase in frequency and severity. Indonesia experienced the impact of an extreme El Niño on food supply last year when when nearly a million hectares burned. The country’s 1998 food security crisis led to an increase in its poverty rate from 11% to 18% from 1996 to 1998.
India will also continue to be impacted by climate change with hazards such as flash floods and the impacts of the Ukraine conflict exacerbating growing food insecurity. To protect its food stocks, India banned the export of non-basmati rice last year. This ban has had significant downstream impacts on countries heavily dependent on rice imports such as Indonesia. Such protectionist measures are likely to become more commonplace across the world in response to worsening climate impacts. These understandable actions of states preserving their food supplies ultimately worsen the global food crisis.
India has also responded to food insecurity by deepening its trade ties with Russia amidst the Western embargo on Russian exports. Of particular note is India’s purchase of Russian crude oil at a discounted price since 2022. Indian officials have emphasised that their country’s refinement of Russian crude oil and its sale to other markets has created some stability in the global oil market. Not only is crude oil an energy source, but it’s an important input for food products so restrictions on the export of Russian crude oil have added to global food insecurity.
Australia should address its own growing food insecurity by implementing recommendations made in last year’s Parliamentary report which is awaiting a government response. The formation of a national food plan to be overseen by a minister for food is the key recommendation. This proposed plan covers Australia’s whole food system, including production and distribution and supply chain resilience. The minimisation of food waste, which costs the economy $36.6 billion a year, is central to improving food security. In this way, food security is not only about improving the quantity of food available but also improving access to existing supplies. With foodbanks seeing a surge in demand due to cost of living pressures, it’s imperative that vulnerable Australians are better connected to food supplies that would otherwise be wasted.
As global food insecurity worsens, there will be pressure in Australia to reserve supplies for the domestic market. We’ve already seen this occur with energy exports. Western Australia’s domestic gas policy requires the equivalent of 15% of natural gas produced from each export project there to be retained for use in the WA market. If Australia were to adopt a domestic food reserve similar to this gas policy, the food security of countries reliant on Australia’s food exports would be impacted. Indonesia as Australia’s fourth largest agriculture, fisheries and forestry export market by value in 2020/21 would be heavily affected.
Aside from bolstering domestic food security against challenges such as conflict and climate change, it’s in Australia’s interests to build regional food security. Already, Australia has budgeted $228.9 million for this financial year to official development assistance for climate resilient agricultural development and food security. However, aid and unilateral actions alone are not enough to combat the region’s worsening food situation. Australia cannot necessarily stop countries imposing protectionist measures to preserve their domestic food supplies, especially those in the Global South which are already suffering high rates of hunger and poverty. The Australian Council for International Development urges the appointment of a food security special envoy to lead and coordinate Australia’s whole of government and international engagement to build resilience in food insecurity. This envoy should coordinate Australia’s cooperation and participation within multilateral initiatives, such as the Global Alliance for Food Security established in response to the surge in food prices after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
The role of climate change in exacerbating food insecurity in times of conflict needs to be considered within Australian Defence Force scenario planning. Instead of framing climate change as primarily an issue that will increase the ADF’s role in responding to humanitarian aid and disaster relief, Defence planners need to explicitly explore the growing intersection between climate change and conflict. Wargaming to increase interoperability across armed forces and civil society agencies such as emergency services and the police was suggested by the RAND Corporation for the UK Ministry of Defence’s climate change strategy.
The world is entering an era where geopolitical and climate risks are increasingly intersecting with enormous consequences for global food security. Beyond Ukraine, attacks on shipping in the Red Sea are also affecting supply chains. Numerous geopolitical hotspots including the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea could escalate into conflict. Were we to see concurrent major conflicts across the world, combined with the accelerating effects of climate change, the consequences for food security would be dramatic, especially if conflicts forced the redirection of major maritime shipping routes.
Clearly, Australia cannot by itself deliver the systemic change required to address global food security risks. But Australia’s importance as a net food-exporting country means that we have a key role to play in food security. Along with bolstering domestic food supply and building the capacity and productivity of regional producers, Australia can play a pivotal diplomatic role, catalysing global action in coalition with key states and multilateral institutions.