Key Takeaways

• Georgia’s ruling party, Georgian Dream (GD), has recently turned to history in order to position itself as a defender of a peaceful, enduring state amid dangerous neighbours.

• GD continues to conduct a multivector foreign policy but must carefully balance relationships with Eurasian powers alongside a “Europeanâ€� identity favoured by its citizens.

• As long as it spurns Euro-Atlantic integration, Georgia’s security relies on its utility as a hub to evade sanctions and conduct international trade.

A Turn to Georgia’s Pre-Imperial Past

Georgia’s Prime Minister, Irakli Kobakhidze, detoured centuries into the country’s history during a briefing on international relations on August 18. Before the press, he praised the 1783 Treaty of Georgievsk, when Erekle II of the Georgian kingdom of Kartli-Kakheti accepted Russian “protection� in exchange for guarantees of sovereignty.

Kobakhidze’s unprompted defence of a treaty that foreshadowed Imperial Russia’s annexation of Georgia sparked a firestorm at home and abroad. Did this move herald a new stage – or at least a new public stage – in Russia-Georgia relations? Russian media nodded approvingly. What might this mean for Georgia’s multivector foreign policy, which has been leaning heavily towards China, Iran and Eurasia in the past years? What did it augur for tentative efforts at transatlantic détente with North America and the European Union (EU), which have been critical of Georgia’s democratic backsliding?

Any effort to attribute long-term strategy to the actions of the governing Georgian Dream (GD) party is risky, but Kobakhidze appealed to domestic and international audiences alike as he spoke about Georgia’s place in the world through its history. The diversion reveals above all the delicacy of Georgia’s security surrounded by countries currently at war (Russia, Ukraine, Iran) as well as those considering a path to peace (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Türkiye). It also accounts for the Georgian population’s ambivalent views towards Europe, Russia and Eurasian powers.

Kobakhidze presented Erekle II’s decision as a “â€� for Georgia. He cited Christianity and “traditional European cultureâ€� in a treaty that ostensibly allowed Georgia to avoid assimilation into Turkic or Persian worlds. He also argued Georgians that Russia – which later violated the agreement, absorbing the region in 1801 – would act in its own interests, in a briefing that presented a of international relations.

Russia’s state-run news agency, RIA Novosti, highlighted Kobakhidze’s speech with the headline: “.� Georgian opposition figures alongside Mikheil Saakashvili, the now-jailed former Prime Minister, that this “history lesson� foreshadowed a future agreement between Georgia and Russia. One that the Georgian public, still negatively inclined towards its northern neighbour (), would need to swallow for its own future survival and “civilization.�

Europe (Which Europe) or Eurasia?

Motivations behind Kobakhidze’s statements, however, appear more complicated. GD has little to gain through formalizing a relationship with Russia. Opening a discussion on the Russian-backed territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia – which together compose about 20% of Georgia’s territory – would open a large wound with unpredictable consequences. Given Russia’s unpopularity in Georgia, GD has always operated in a zone of plausible (and public) deniability of links between Moscow and Tbilisi. Sanctions-busting, however, . Georgia has followed domestic security playbooks used in Russia and Belarus, among others, from to the .

Keeping these relationships quiet also allows Georgia to continue feigning allegiance with the West even as it builds an increasingly authoritarian state, condemning “,� and . The loss, however, of their closest ally in Europe – Hungary’s Viktor Orbán and his Fidesz party – complicated GD’s narrative that they would join, in essence, an Orbánified-Europe. Georgia has extended olive branches to and a high-level parliamentary delegation visited in June. As Kobakhidze’s defence of Erekle II highlights, Georgia continues to view itself as “civilizationally� European. GD leaders hold , alongside citizenship for their families. Formal agreements with Russia would threaten GD members with further sanctions () and disturb their quiet – though commonly-known within Georgia – relationship with the European powers whose liberal values they condemn in terms .

Kobakhidze’s highlighting of Erekle II’s Christian choice also serves to counterbalance its increasing Eurasian links, even as the population overwhelmingly considers itself European. Thus far in 2026, Kobakhidze has visited the Central Asian countries of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan; Uzbek President Shavkat Mirzoyiyev met Kobakhidze in Tbilisi in July. Georgian President Mikheil Kavelashvili also attended the funeral of Iranian leader Ayatollah Khamenei in July 2026, while on June 9 Georgia and China “upgraded� their relationship to a “.�

The Middle Corridor: Georgia’s Future?

Georgia is staking its security and prosperity on acting as a critical transport hub through the Middle Corridor (also known as the ), linking China to Europe through Central Asia and the Caucasus. Traffic through the Middle Corridor has experienced since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Central Asia’s promise to increase the corridor’s importance in the coming years. Georgia’s free trade agreements with Türkiye, the EU, and US also serve to make the country extremely attractive for Chinese enterprises. Chinese companies have already played a major role in upgrading Georgian road and rail infrastructure, while Xinjiang’s facilitates commercial exchange between Georgia and other Xinjiang-based Chinese companies.

Georgia’s ties with Iran have also deepened, though the effect of the ongoing regional war is unclear. As with Russia, Georgia has become a for Iranian companies. Russian strategic airlifters have been to Iran, even though the country has pledged to . And while relations with the US remain rocky, . Washington has noted the importance of Middle Corridor trade and in the long-stalled plan to develop the deep-sea Anaklia port on the Black Sea after a Chinese company withdrew from the project.

GD also realizes it needs to move quickly to consolidate trade as the prospective Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP) could soon become a rival transitway across the Middle Corridor. With plans to take Chinese and Central Asian goods to Europe through Armenia and Azerbaijan, the TRIPP represents a threat to Georgia’s role in facilitating regional trade. However, to Georgia’s benefit, and faces staunch Iranian opposition.

How does Erekle II fit this picture? Kobakhidze wants Georgians to consider the historic King as making hard but necessary geopolitical decisions in a world of great powers. Kobakhidze, like Erekle in a way, wants to be seen as the trusted actor to deal with dangerous entities in the interests of maintaining a , which has been GD’s basic platform since 2022. GD wants to show a “civilized� European face even as it deepens dealings with Eurasian powers. This discourse also serves as a signal to Russia that Georgia is a friendly country even as it privileges maintenance of its sovereignty. GD will, in the meantime, happily use a historical debate to that has condemned this comparison through its control of an increasingly authoritarian regime. Georgians who oppose GD point to growing internal party divisions,, as evidence of a party lacking the funds to grease enough palms to tighten its rule. Such calls, however, remain based on hope more than evidence.

Policy Recommendations

• GD’s decision to support US civil aviation sanctions on Iran shows it is sensitive to Western pressure. Intensified efforts, by Europe and the US simultaneously, to identify and punish sanctions-busting by the Georgian government could loosen GD’s anti-democratic grip.

• Possible carrots for Georgia can involve support for trans-shipment through Anaklia or an expanded Poti port, with strings that would allow Georgian civil society groups to function. It is unclear, however, whether GD would make such a concession. One stick would involve efforts to shift trade to TRIPP, effectively icing Georgia out of the economic benefits of regional integration.

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As Canada looks to build a renewed vision of sovereignty and economic independence – divorced from the influence, reliance, and hegemony of the United States (US) – the nation is increasingly seeking foreign capital to develop an economically viable Canada for tomorrow. The urgent need to develop a sovereign wealth fund – the – is the structural result of the . In a bid to attract capital and develop the Canada Strong Fund while facing a , Prime Minister Mark Carney is hosting the in Toronto, Ontario, from September 14-15, 2026. 

Attending the summit will be the world’s leading investors who have been invited to identify opportunities for investment in Canada. The government’s ambition is to catalyse $1 trillion in total investment across Canada over the next five years, supported by approximately $280 billion in federal capital investments and incentives. The summit is being in partnership with the federal government, the Canada Pension Plan Investment Board (CPP Investments), and the Public Sector Pension Investment Board (PSP Investments). It will build upon Canada’s economic developments of the , as the government seeks to diversify Canada’s economic relationships, attract foreign capital, and reduce the country’s historical dependence on the US. Yet this drive for investment raises two important questions: how prepared is Canada to protect the infrastructure and strategic assets that this investment will create, expand, and place under private ownership? And does Canada have the institutional guardrails to responsibly place constraints upon private entities?

The Question of Investment and Strategic Infrastructure

The question of foreign investment in strategic infrastructure and resources is particularly relevant given the Carney government’s growing interest in private investment in Canadian transportation infrastructure. The explicitly announced that the government would , alongside measures intended to attract . The same budget also identifies continued engagement with investors to increase private investment in .

The rationale for investment in this infrastructure is straightforward. Airports and ports are essential to Canada’s economic growth and trade diversification. . At the same time, airports facilitate the movement of high-value cargo and connect Canadian communities both domestically and to . These are attractive opportunities for private investment that will generate revenue for Canada, enabling the modernisation and development of this infrastructure, boosting trade efficiency, without increasing public debt.

In Canada, there are and . These airports and ports, managed by private not-for-profit local authorities, and . These are not merely economic assets; they sustain the livelihoods of approximately half a million Canadians while serving as critical infrastructure and strategic nodes of sovereignty. They facilitate the movement of people, goods, energy, information, and, when necessary, military and emergency resources. Their worth extends beyond their commercial value and contributes to the public good of Canadian society.

Canada’s move towards the privatisation of transportation infrastructure does not make it the first state to do so – that position would belong to the . In 1987, the United Kingdom’s Conservative government’s privatisation of airports successfully generated revenue for a while simultaneously offloading the cost of airport upgrades from the state onto private firms. However, private ownership quickly poorer working conditions and lower pay for the thousands of employees.

In Canada in 2026, a similar pattern risks manifesting itself again: the auctioning off of infrastructure that provides a public service may occur at a discount price – much to the chagrin of private investors – while costs for services charged by these private entities may be able to escalate with no public accountability. Without state oversight, it may be more than solely price gouging that harms Canadians, but service interruption. If, through a callous calculation, a foreign-owned private entity decides to reduce service or even close an airport to maximise profits, this would be a corporate decision without government input or public accountability.

While the federal government may not be focused on the impact that privatisation could have upon the everyday lives of ordinary Canadians, the broader geopolitical realities of 2026 – characterised by a return to and , alongside a decline of American hegemony – make for a compelling case for the federal government to reconsider. The more Canada relies upon private and foreign capital to operate and develop these assets, the more important it becomes that the government establishes who is responsible for their security when a threat emerges. The core question to ask of the federal government is whether Canada’s security architecture and institutional capacity can keep pace with growing technological complexity and the change of ownership created by private investment.

This inquiry strikes at a weakness in Canadian governance: institutions are organised around jurisdictional responsibilities while the infrastructure and threats they must protect operate across those jurisdictions. Threats to critical infrastructure do not fit neatly within the pre-existing institutional mandates of the confederation. Radio-frequency interference, jamming, cyberattacks, hostile drones, physical intrusion, and other forms of disruption involve responsibilities spanning across institutional bodies such as (ISED), the (RCMP), the (DND), , and .

When a Threat Emerges, Who Responds?

Consider a hypothetical incident at a Canadian airport or marine port. A drone is detected approaching the facility, but its purpose is initially unknown. It may be a negligent operator, indicate criminal activity, surveillance of the facility, or something more nefarious. The distinction matters, but in the first few minutes, authorities may not have enough information to know what they are facing. The immediate problem is determining who has the authority and capability to respond while the nature of the threat is still being established.

This is particularly apparent as counter-drone systems rely upon radio-frequency interference or jamming. , and it states that the use of jammers is prohibited unless a ministerial exemption applies. Such exemptions have been granted to the , , and the . The result is a critical distinction between possessing counter-drone capability and possessing the authority to use it in a particular circumstance.

This critical distinction becomes more consequential when the infrastructure itself is privately operated. An airport or port operator may be the first to detect an intrusion and may have sophisticated security personnel and detection systems, but it does not possess the jurisdictional authority exercised by Canada’s institutional and legal bodies. Provincial or municipal police may be positioned to respond to an immediate criminal threat, but federal authorities possess jurisdiction over aviation, spectrum management, national security, and defence. The institution with the most appropriate capability may therefore not be the institution that can immediately employ it. But the first few minutes of a security incident have no respect for time nor institutional boundaries. A threat does not wait for federal, provincial, municipal, and private actors to determine whose mandate applies.

As Canada attracts private and foreign investment for critical infrastructure projects and investment, if a threat consequently emerges in the privately-owned scenario, this begs the question of who possesses both the authority and the capability to act immediately. If the answer depends upon transferring responsibility between multiple institutions before an effective response can begin, then the vulnerability is institutional. The challenge is to proactively determine who is responsible for detecting the threat, assessing it, who has authority to intervene, who possesses the necessary capability, and who assumes command. As strategic infrastructure becomes increasingly privately operated, these questions cannot be left unresolved.

Inconvenient Timing: Canada’s Policing Transition

Institutional fragmentation is becoming more consequential as Canada approaches a broader transition in the organisation of policing itself. identifies the modernisation of federal policing as an ongoing priority. At the same time, the federal government is preparing for the , which expire in . This approaching deadline is particularly important as policing responsibilities are already . and maintain their own provincial police services, while Canada’s eight other provinces and three territories contract out police services to the RCMP; but in recent years, the mandate of the RCMP is changing. In the city of Surrey, British Columbia, a has recently concluded.

Alberta provides perhaps the clearest example of where this trend could lead: the province has continued to consider the establishment of an , and the . These developments raise a question extending beyond ordinary policing, located at the core of Canadian federalism and problematising the privatisation of critical infrastructure: as provinces increasingly seek greater sovereignty and enhanced control over policing, who is ultimately responsible for protecting infrastructure that is provincially located, nationally significant, but privately owned?

Crucially, Alberta is home to infrastructure whose significance extends beyond provincial boundaries, particularly in the energy sector. If policing authority becomes increasingly provincial while infrastructure is increasingly privatized, responsibility for its protection becomes convoluted. This is further complicated by in greater provincial autonomy and potential separation, which could create additional uncertainty around the long-term governance of nationally significant infrastructure. At the same time, Alberta’s energy resources – identified as for the upcoming Canada Investment Summit –  and make the province particularly attractive to foreign private investment. While such investment can generate significant economic value, foreign ownership of strategically important energy and infrastructure assets can also create new dependencies and avenues for .

Alberta therefore provides a useful stress test for Canada’s emerging investment model: what happens when nationally significant infrastructure is provincially located, privately owned, attractive to foreign capital, and situated within a province increasingly questioning its relationship with Ottawa?

Invest if You Must, But Know Who Protects It

This highlights a tension at the heart of Canada’s investment strategy. The government is asking foreign and private investors to place capital into infrastructure that Canada considers essential to its economic sovereignty, while the frameworks governing the protection of that infrastructure remain unevenly distributed. Canada should therefore treat security governance as an essential component of its investment strategy rather than as a separate policy concern. Before encouraging significant private or foreign investment in airports, ports, telecommunications networks, energy infrastructure, critical-mineral supply chains, and other strategically important assets, Ottawa should ensure that there are clear lines of responsibility for their protection, establish mechanisms for interagency coordination, and clearly define the responsibilities of respective authorities for responding to emerging threats.

The renegotiation of the Police Service Agreements ahead of their 2032 expiry provides an opportunity to address this problem at the federal level. Ottawa and the provinces should clarify how provincial, municipal, and federal policing authorities will coordinate when locally situated infrastructure has national-security implications. Canada cannot build economic sovereignty merely by diversifying who provides capital. It must ensure that the infrastructure built with that capital remains secure, resilient, and subject to a clear Canadian security architecture. Canada should therefore enter this new era of investment with a simple principle: before deciding who will own or finance strategic infrastructure, Canada must know who will be responsible for protecting it.

But the question of who protects infrastructure is only one part of the larger challenge. Canada must also ask who operates it, who maintains it, who regulates it, who works within it, and who ensures that essential services continue when normal systems are disrupted. A resilient nation cannot rely upon conventional security capabilities while allowing the social and institutional foundations of resilience to erode.

Economic sovereignty requires investment. Conventional security requires protection. But national resilience requires both to be built alongside the public goods and institutions that allow Canadian society to withstand disruption.

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Over the past two decades, nuclear weapons have returned to the centre of European security as a result of consistent and compounding changes to global geopolitics. For most of the post-Cold War era, weapons of mass destruction appeared to have lost salience as the disappearance of bipolar confrontation, the expansion of cooperative security frameworks, and the consolidation of arms control regimes fostered the belief that large-scale interstate conflict in Europe was a phenomenon of the past. However, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the collapse of arms control frameworks and agreements, and growing uncertainty surrounding the durability of security guarantees from the United States (US) have altered these assumptions, forcing a reassessment of the role of nuclear deterrence in Europe. Nuclear weapons have now regained centrality in European security as instruments of coercion, signalling, and strategic reassurance.

These dynamics have rekindled a nuclear debate in a number of European states, including the United Kingdom (UK) and France – Western Europe’s only two nuclear powers – who came together in July 2025 to sign the Northwood Declaration. This Declaration represents a significant political step for European nuclear security as, for the first time, both French and British governments publicly recognize that their independent nuclear forces must be thought of as a nuclear tandem in upholding the security of Europe. The political significance of this Declaration is much greater than its technical content and raises the following questions: does Northwood Declaration represent a strategic turning point in Franco-British nuclear cooperation in the context of perceived US disengagement from Europe and renewed Russian assertiveness? Can this renewed commitment to cooperation bridge the UK and France’s historically distinct strategic traditions regarding nuclear weapons?

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Nuclear relations between the UK and France have always been shaped by a triangulated great power partnership that necessarily involved the US. The UK’s nuclear program was deeply embedded in Anglo-American cooperation from the Second World War onward. The 1958 Mutual Defence Agreement institutionalized this relationship, giving the UK access to American technology, materials, and missile systems. The credibility of the British deterrent therefore rested not only on national capability but also on continued US support.

France followed the opposite path. Excluded from early nuclear cooperation and sceptical of extended deterrence, Paris developed its force de frappe as an explicit sovereign instrument. The French nuclear doctrine emphasized national decision-making, freedom of action, and the political symbolism of independence. Deterrence was not merely military protection; it was a guarantee of strategic autonomy.

These divergent trajectories repeatedly complicated bilateral cooperation between France and the UK. During the Cold War, the UK could not easily share nuclear information without American approval while France refused to subordinate its deterrent to any external framework, including NATO. Even moments of diplomatic convergence produced mostly rhetorical statements rather than operational coordination.

After 1991, the issue temporarily lost urgency. Arms control agreements, reduced geopolitical tensions, and the shift toward crisis management operations moved nuclear questions into the background. Franco-British defence cooperation deepened through initiatives such as the Saint-Malo Declaration (1998) and later the Lancaster House Treaties (2010), though these agreements focused largely on conventional capabilities and technical collaboration. Nuclear policy remained politically sensitive and largely separate from coordinated strategic planning.

TheÌıReturn ofÌıNuclearÌıPolitics in EuropeÌı

The strategic environment, already undergoing gradual change, shifted dramatically after 2014. Russia’s annexation of Crimea and the outbreak of armed conflict in Donbas marked the return of conventional warfare in Europe. More importantly,  While these signals remained largely indirect at the time, they reintroduced the nuclear dimension into European security. Since 2022, Russian rhetoric has become far more overt, . 

At the same time, the institutional foundations of nuclear stability weakened. The  (8 May 2018), the  (2 August 2019), the  (5 February 2026), and the broader erosion of arms control norms removed many stabilizing constraints inherited from the Cold War. These developments coincided with a gradual reorientation of US strategy toward the Indo-Pacific. . Although Washington did not disengage from NATO, successive administrations placed growing emphasis on burden-sharing and regional prioritization, encouraging European Allies to assume greater responsibility for their own security.  

For European states, the combination of Russian coercion and America’s shifting security priorities created a dilemma. NATO’s deterrence remained credible, yet its perceived unconditionality weakened. European security increasingly depended on whether Europeans could carry a larger share of the burden of deterrence in a crisis directly affecting the continent, rather than relying exclusively on automatic US escalation. In this context, nuclear discourse has regained political salience for European NATO Allies. The issue is no longer deterrence itself, but who will be responsible for making deterrence credible in a crisis directly affecting Europe. 

The Northwood DeclarationÌı

The 2025 Northwood Declaration must be understood in the context of this shifting dynamic. This Declaration does not create a joint Franco-British nuclear force; however, its significance lies in its political message that British and French nuclear deterrents can be coordinated and jointly considered in the management of European security. 

The creation of the UK-France Nuclear Steering Group through this Declaration introduces a permanent mechanism for political consultation across nuclear policy, capabilities, and operations. However, national decision-making authority remains unaffected and both France and the UK retain explicit sovereignty over their nuclear arsenals. This step represents an important qualitative change.  Nuclear policy itself remained politically insulated. Northwood, by contrast, brings nuclear cooperation into the political sphere. For the first time, . 

The Declaration also restates the long-standing formulation that the vital interests of one country cannot be threatened without affecting those of the other, a wording that originates from the . In the contemporary context, this relational language carries broader implications than in the 1990s, as it signals a shared willingness to extend nuclear deterrence across Europe. 

ReconcilingÌıAtlanticismÌıandÌıAutonomyÌı

Does this development have broader implications for transatlantic security? Does it reconcile the United Kingdom’s US-integrated deterrent posture with France’s doctrine of independent nuclear decision-making? The answer is both yes and no. The UK has not abandoned its reliance on the US. . Participation in NATO nuclear planning and the acquisition of dual-capable aircraft further reinforce transatlantic integration. France, on the other hand, has not diluted its doctrine of independence. It remains outside NATO’s nuclear planning structures and continues to emphasize sovereign decision-making, as   

The Northwood Declaration therefore does not produce doctrinal convergence. Instead, it provides functional political alignment. Both states retain their respective strategic identities while deepening political cooperation in response to a shared perception of risk. The significance of this shift lies precisely in its pragmatism. Rather than forcing institutional integration – which would be politically unacceptable to both sides – the declaration creates a cooperative interface. The UK derives credibility from its integration with NATO and its nuclear relationship with the US, whereas France derives that same credibility from autonomous national decision-making. The political coordination provided by the Northwood Declaration therefore does not merge the two deterrents but instead creates parallel centres of nuclear decision-making aligned in a common strategic posture, complicating an adversary’s assessment of escalation. 

In effect, coordination substitutes for doctrinal reconciliation. The Declaration does not remove the structural tension between NATO dependence and strategic autonomy; it manages this tension by transforming it into coordinated political signalling. 

Implications for EuropeanÌıDeterrenceÌı

The Northwood Declaration importantly does not create a European nuclear deterrent. No extended guarantee is offered, no shared command established. Hence, US extended deterrence and NATO remain central for many European states. However, the Declaration does still alter the strategic landscape in Europe.  

By coordinating their deterrents politically, the UK and France introduce a European layer of nuclear signalling within the transatlantic system. This European layer operates through identifiable mechanisms. For European NATO Allies, the public coordination of the two nuclear powers signals that deterrence credibility does not depend exclusively on immediate US escalation. For a potential adversary, the existence of two politically aligned but nationally independent nuclear decision-makers introduces uncertainty about escalation thresholds and responses. At the same time, the political burden of deterrence is no longer borne solely by Washington, as London and Paris visibly assume a larger role in strategic signalling and crisis management. 

The result is best understood as a hedge. It is designed to supplement American guarantees rather than replace them. In a crisis, adversaries must consider not only NATO and the US, but also the combined political stance of Europe’s two nuclear powers. Over time, this may influence how deterrence is discussed within Europe. While not establishing a European nuclear force, the Northwood Declaration makes European nuclear responsibility a legitimate topic of policy rather than a theoretical debate.  

The Northwood Declaration fits within a broader pattern in which nuclear deterrence is no longer confined to NATO’s internal mechanisms. In this sense, the Declaration may represent a catalyst for deeper dialogue and coordination between European nuclear and non-nuclear actors. An early indication of this dynamic emerged with the  through which the UK and the Federal Republic of Germany agreed to pursue deep exchanges on deterrence, nuclear issues and arms control, as well as a permanent dialogue on defence matters, while also envisaging intensified trilateral cooperation with France. Furthermore, . 

More recently, this broader trend has been further reinforced by the French President’s proposal of a  which envisages deeper forms of political and strategic coordination between France and a group of willing European partners, including both nuclear and non-nuclear states. While stopping short of creating a European nuclear deterrent, . 

Limits andÌıConstraintsÌı

Despite its significance, the Declaration faces important limitations. Structural asymmetries remain profound. The US still possesses nuclear capabilities vastly exceeding those of either France or the UK, but the relevant comparison is broader:  and . 

A further limitation concerns the autonomy of the British deterrent. Although the UK retains sovereign political control over its nuclear forces, it also remains deeply intertwined with the US through the Mutual Defence Agreement, , and broader technological cooperation. This creates structural limits on how far the UK can engage in deeper nuclear cooperation with its European nuclear and non-nuclear partners and how far the British nuclear deterrent can be Europeanized. However, the novelty concerning the French doctrine of “advanced deterrenceâ€� could be seen as another step towards a more extended deterrence. 

Divergent defence-industrial partnerships also complicate long-term convergence. France’s cooperation with Germany contrasts with Britain’s global partnerships such as the . Regional priorities differ as well. The UK has increasingly oriented its security policy toward Northern Europe, most notably through its leadership of the , a regional military framework bringing together Nordic and Baltic states for rapid crisis response and defence cooperation. 

For these reasons, the Northwood Declaration should not be interpreted as the beginning of a fully integrated European nuclear structure. Its strength lies in political signalling rather than institutional transformation. 

ConclusionÌı

The Northwood DeclarationÌırepresentsÌıa strategic turning point in Franco-British nuclear cooperation, but in a specific and carefully bounded sense. It does not dismantle the structural differences between British Atlanticism and French strategic autonomy. Rather, it lays the foundations forÌıthese two systemsÌıtoÌıoperateÌıtogether. By publicly acknowledging coordination and institutionalizing consultation, the Declaration moves cooperation from symbolic reassurance to structured political practice. The UK continues to rely on the US; France continues to emphasize autonomy. Yet bothÌıthe UK and FranceÌırecognize that, in this current era of intense geopolitical tension, the credibility of European deterrence increasingly depends onÌıtheirÌıpolitical leadership. The Northwood Declaration is a strong signal that they are willing to assume that role together.Ìı

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Introduction

Since the 1970s, the European Economic Community (EEC)/European Union (EU) has sought to play a complementary role to the United States (US) in the pursuit of security and stability in the Middle East. This has occurred mostly through soft security measures: diplomacy; economic and financial aid to Palestinians; civilian missions focused on stability; and dialogue with Arab states. In this regard, it is worth mentioning the Euro-Arab Dialogue: a political and economic cooperation framework launched in 1974 between the EEC and the Arab League to strengthen the relationship between the parties after the Yom Kippur War and oil crisis. However, despite these efforts, the limits of the EU’s unique institutional set-up have prevented it from playing a major role in regional affairs. The ongoing war in the Gaza Strip between Israel and Hamas has highlighted the limits of the EU’s diplomatic action. In the meantime, President Donald Trump’s Peace Plan for Gaza has re-energized, once again, the role of the , prompting some to draw historical parallels to earlier US-brokered efforts – from Camp David to the failed Oslo Accords. What role could the EU play in the American plan? How can its involvement be decisive to achieve a just and lasting peace in the region?

Context

The 2006 electoral victory of Hamas in the Gaza Strip led to a severe escalation with Israel. With Hamas taking over the territory from the Fatah-controlled Palestinian Authority (PA), Israel considered the Palestinian military group a security threat, as it refused to recognize the Jewish state, renounce violence, or accept previous peace agreements brokered by the PA and Israel. Hamas’ accession to power in 2006 constituted a critical historical juncture that transformed governance in Gaza and its overall relationship with Israel. This shift was accompanied by the return of a range of familiar political practices – including diplomatic negotiations, economic sanctions, and ongoing military engagement – that continue to define this governance period.

In the meantime, two other factors made the relationship between the parties more strained. On the one hand, on November 29, 2012, the , which upgraded Palestine from a “non-member observer entity� to a “non-member observer State.� This historic vote granted Palestine implicit recognition of statehood and was seen as a move to revive the two-state solution, a move strongly opposed by the Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. On the other hand, the US-brokered Abraham Accords were signed in 2020, aiming to normalize diplomatic, economic, and security relations between Israel and several Arab nations (including the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Morocco, and Sudan). Palestinians overwhelmingly opposed the Abraham Accords, perceiving the agreements as an abandonment of the long-standing consensus among Arab states that negotiations with Israel were contingent on ending occupation.

On October 7, 2023, Hamas initiated an attack on Israel. . The Israeli response was a full-scale military invasion of the Gaza Strip which, by December 2025, has killed 71,266 Palestinians, left most schools and hospitals in ruins, and caused long-term damage to the local society and economy.

The EU’s response to Gaza was characterized by contradictions and divisions between its member states. Some countries such as Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary, Italy, and Germany, stood with Israel, backing its military campaign and avoiding criticism of Netanyahu’s regime. Other governments, such as Belgium, Spain, France and Ireland – while strongly condemning Hamas – called for a ceasefire and criticized Israel for violating international humanitarian law. These differing positions prevented the EU from having a coordinated stance at the UN when voting on a on December 12, 2023, which called for a humanitarian ceasefire.

Divergencies appeared not only between member states but also across EU institutions. While European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen showed a stronger emphasis on Israel’s right to defence, the European Council issued a more cautious joint statement aimed at highlighting the EU as a unified voice. The statement took a more neutral tone than President von der Leyen, emphasizing both Israel’s right to defence as well as the crucial need for humanitarian aid, civilian protection, and adherence to international law. A third voice, EU’s foreign policy chief Josep Borrell, was more critical of Israel, . The inertia resulting from lack of consensus among member states and across institutions severely undermines the EU’s position as mediator, letting the Americans play a leading role once again.

On September 29, 2025, President Trump announced his plan to “end the Gaza war� and address the broader Middle Eastern crisis. The so-called was negotiated with the consultation of Arab states, namely Egypt, Qatar and Türkiye. The EU played no formal role in the negotiations; it made no proposals of its own, despite being both a major donor to Palestine and an important partner of Israel.

Endorsed by UN Security Council , Trump’s plan includes the deployment of an International Stabilization Force (ISF) in Gaza, a multinational military body that will ensure the demilitarization and security of the Gaza Strip; and the creation of a Board of Peace (BoP), a committee led by Trump that will oversee the political transition in Gaza until a reformed Palestinian Authority can take over governance in 2027. Formally launched at the 56th World Economic Forum in January 2026, the BoP claims its main purpose is the promotion of peacekeeping all around the world, not only in Gaza. Countries wishing to participate in the BoP are required to contribute US$1 billion to the organization to renew their membership, and Trump, as its chairman, is not subject to term limits, holding the sole authority to nominate his successor.

to ending the war in Gaza; however, many EU member states have expressed concern over the possibility of the BoP overshadowing the role of the UN. Currently, Bulgaria and Hungary are the only two EU countries to have joined the initiative. France, Spain, Poland, and Germany declined to participate, while Italy, Romania, Greece and Cyprus joined as observers. The EU Commission also decided to join as an observer, sending the Commissioner for the Mediterranean, Dubravka Šuica, to Washington, DC, to attend the inaugural meeting of the BoP on February 19, 2026. In a sign of continued disunity, , calling it a “mistake�, as the EU supports a two-state solution and “cannot participate� in any body that excludes the Palestinian National Authority.

Problems

Even if Trump’s plan represents an important step towards a peace deal, it contains critical aspects which might hinder its implementation. The current plan effectively grants Israel a veto power over peace, as its military redeployments are conditioned on Hamas’ demilitarization and reform of the PA. At the same time, Israel is not required to make any formal commitments towards halting settlement expansion in the West Bank or respecting the autonomy of a Palestinian state. On this issue Israel’s stance is clear: Netanyahu declared that , as it is an “existential threat to Israel.� Therefore, there is a real risk that, without guarantees for the Palestinian people and a plan to address occupation, Trump’s plan may fail or lead to an unjust and unstable peace agreement that steamrolls Palestinian rights and territories recognized by international law.

On the other hand, Trump’s peace plan has confirmed that the US continues to play a . However, some , such as Francesca Albanese, Special Rapporteur on the Situation of Human Rights in the Palestinian Occupied Territory, criticized the plan. UN Special Adviser on Sustainability, Jeffrey Sachs, labelled the US proposal as “.� According to them, Trump is behaving in Gaza like a 19th-century colonial broker, placing himself at the helm of the BoP to oversee a foreign territory’s governance, with the overall aim of advancing US interests in the region. The Middle East has figured prominently in the first and second Trump administrations’ foreign policy. President Trump’s main goal is to broker agreements between Israel and other Arab states, including Saudi Arabia, to . This attitude could prove counterproductive and place EU interests at risk.

Strategic Outlook and Policy Recommendations

A more active role of the EU in the region is necessary to guarantee success and counter risks of instability, which may have severe implications for European security, including energy supply limitations, new security threats, and an increase of migration and refugee flows. It is in the EU’s interest to enhance its influence in the region. What practical steps should the EU take to avoid marginalization and make a meaningful contribution to peace?

1. The EU should consider holding an enhanced observer status at the BoP as a necessary counterweight to US and Israeli pressures and hegemony in decision-making. Of course, the EU has to maintain a steadfast commitment to strengthening and reforming the UN, confirming it as the core of a rules-based international order and multilateralism. However, enhanced observer status at the BoP could allow the EU to monitor negotiations and participate in debates specifically devoted to making interventions, peace proposals, and amendments. The presence of the EU, with its traditional concern for Palestinian issues, could ensure meaningful Palestinian involvement. This is fundamental to legitimate the transitory governance of the Gaza Strip and preserve Palestinian decision-making power. A more active EU at BoP could also contribute to reforming the PA.

The divergences between member states and across EU institutions negatively impact the EU’s international role. Therefore, the EU should take a cohesive stance on its participation at the BoP, bearing in mind some key arguments. Firstly, “� provides direct insight into how decisions are implemented, serving as a channel for influence. The EU is the largest donor to Palestinian recovery and its involvement in the BoP could help the EU shape outcomes rather than merely fund them, aligning its significant financial contributions with the necessary humanitarian, governance, and security strands of the peace plan. Moreover, “� is vital for influencing the implementation of UN Security Council Resolution 2803.

2. The EU should be part of the International Security Force. Together with The European Union Border Assistance Mission (EUBAM) Rafah Mission and EU Police Mission for the Palestinian Territories (EUPOL COPPS), involvement in the ISF could contribute to the maintenance of the ceasefire. Participation in the ISF could enhance European influence on Israel, for example, by convincing the Israeli government to review its settlement policy and improve living conditions for the Palestinians.

3. The EU should use economic and financial tools to enhance its political influence. On the Palestinian side, the European Commission recently . On the Israeli side, the EU should overcome its reluctances and suspend the EU-Israel Association Agreement if the Israeli government continues to violate human rights in Gaza, as required by Article 2 of the Agreement. The suspension of this Agreement could influence Israel to respect the , following preliminary rulings about a “plausible� genocide occurring in Gaza. The EU could link Israeli participation in EU funding programs, such as Horizon Europe, to the full withdrawal from Gaza, the end of settlements in the West Bank, and apartheid policy against Palestinians.

4. The EU should invest in the implementation of the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC), an economic initiative designed to enhance connectivity and integration between Asia, the Middle East, and Europe, based on three pillars: energy, transportation, and digital connectivity. IMEC should be a core interest for Europeans, as it , increasing political and economic ties between participating counties. Moreover, it could enhance the EU’s political influence in the area, counterbalancing China and the US. The implementation of some projects as part of the IMEC – such as the EastMed Gas Pipeline – could make the EU a relevant player in terms of future economic cooperation projects, allowing it to increase its weight in the Middle East peace process.

The EU could influence, for example, the implementation of the so-called “Green Blue Deal� between Jordan and Israel, which provides for the supply of water from Israel in exchange for Jordanian supplies of solar power. The Gaza war stopped the project, but the ceasefire created hope that it may be relaunched in such a way that the Gaza Strip and the West Bank can also benefit from it.

Conclusion

While the US commitment has been the sine qua non for a ceasefire in Gaza, the EU holds key cards to ensure the successful implementation of Trump’s peace plan. With its traditional regional approach, a more active observer role of the EU in the BoP and its participation in the ISF could balance American – and Israeli – influence and ensure a more equitable peace solution. In doing so, it may also help ensure that Palestinian rights recognized by international law are considered against the backdrop of ongoing ceasefire and conflict negotiations. In addition, the use of economic leverage as well as the implementation of the IMEC corridor could enhance the EU political weight in the area, preventing the dawn of a new era of regional instability and insecurity with direct impact on Europe itself.

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Executive Summary:

Russia’s war against Ukraine is also a struggle about public interpretation. NATO members have responded to Russia’s full-scale invasion through sanctions, military aid, deterrence, and diplomatic efforts. These actions depend on the public understanding that Russia is the aggressor, Ukraine is the victim of an illegal invasion, and support for Ukraine is important for European and transatlantic security. Russia’s counter-narrative seeks to weaken this consensus view by claiming that Ukraine, NATO, the US, or the West provoked the war.

Drawing on , with a Canada-focused analysis, as initially outlined at ĞÓ°ÉÔ­´´ University’s 2026 Eastern European and Transatlantic Network conference, this brief argues that trust in NATO is central to how citizens interpret responsibility for the war. Canadian public opinion remains strongly aligned with the core NATO narrative: most Canadians blame Russia, while only a small minority blame the West. Yet this minority is not randomly distributed. Canadians who do not trust NATO are significantly more likely to accept the narrative that the West provoked the war, while Canadians who trust NATO are much more likely to blame Russia.

The implication is straightforward: countering disinformation is not only about correcting false claims after they spread. It is also about sustaining public trust in the institutions whose messages compete with adversaries’ propaganda and misinformation. For Canada and its NATO Allies, trust in NATO should therefore be treated as a security resource — one that requires proactive prebunking, clearer explanations of NATO’s relevance to Canadian security, and a wider network of trusted messengers.

Introduction: The Narrative Dimension of the War in Ukraine

NATO countries responded to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 through military, economic, and diplomatic means and pressure. However, this support also sparked an ongoing discussion about how and why this war erupted. The core NATO narrative is straightforward: Russia is the aggressor, Ukraine is the victim of an unlawful and unprovoked invasion, and allied support for Ukraine is necessary for European and transatlantic security. The main Kremlin counter-narrative tells a different story: Ukraine, NATO, the United States, or “the West� provoked the war, leaving Russia no choice but to invade in order to protect its so-called historical sphere of influence.

This ongoing contest matters because it can affect whether citizens support sanctions, weapons deliveries, refugee assistance, defense spending, and long-term deterrence measures taken by their countries and NATO. If the public believes that Russia caused the war, continued support for Ukraine and NATO cohesion becomes easier to sustain. If the public believes that NATO or the West provoked the war, allied policy aimed at countering Russia can appear reckless, hypocritical, or needlessly escalatory.

Much of the discussion about Russian information operations focuses on the supply side. It aims to address threats posed by, for example, Russian propaganda, falsehoods, and electoral and other interference, across different channels and platforms. These are important. , a foreign disinformation detection institution, defines foreign information manipulation and interference as “intentional and coordinated efforts by state or non-state actors to alter information in pursuit of political, security, or other strategic objectives.� But supply alone does not explain why people in Canada and other countries believe one competing strategic narrative over another.

This brief, therefore, focuses on the demand side of strategic narrative reception. Why are some citizens more receptive to the Kremlin’s West-blame narrative while others accept the NATO narrative that Russia caused the war? Findings from suggest that people tend to rely on trust in the messenger as a shortcut to plausibility. When they trust NATO, they also tend to trust its messaging. When they distrust NATO, those same explanations are easier to dismiss as propaganda, spin, or elite messaging.

Strategic Narratives and the Credibility of the Narrator

Strategic narratives are stories that countries tell to “win the story� as they frame issues, advance their goals, and convince others of the righteousness of their actions in global affairs. Strategic narratives identify heroes and villains, assign blame, explain crises, and justify policy choices. In the context of Russia’s war against Ukraine, narratives about the origins of the war are especially important because they can and do shape policy debates. If Russia is understood as the aggressor, then sanctions, deterrence, and military assistance to Ukraine follow logically. If NATO is understood as the provocateur, then those same policies can be framed as a dangerous escalation.

Narratives succeed not only because of repetition or exposure. They also depend on the narrator’s perceived credibility. Citizens do not evaluate every claim from scratch; they use their trust in the messenger as a cognitive shortcut that, especially when multiple competing narratives are present, is more likely to lead them to accept or reject the story in question.

This is why fact-checking and rebuttals of malign information, while necessary, are not sufficient. The consensus recommendations in emphasize that corrections are most effective when they are clear, credible, and accompanied by an alternative explanation. However, both this handbook and our research suggest that to increase the likelihood that the audience accepts the debunking, the audience should hold a positive view of the messenger. When trust is low, the same corrections can be rejected as self-interested messaging. In practice, “truth� often competes with “trusted.�

The policy implication is that institutional credibility is neither a soft nor a secondary issue. It is part of democratic resilience. explicitly identifies resilience as central to its ability to deter and defend. While NATO’s deterrent posture depends on military capabilities, we should also keep in mind that the Alliance also depends on public support for the political choices that make deterrence credible. If hostile information operations can weaken trust in the institutions that explain and justify allied policy, they can complicate democratic decision-making even without changing facts on the ground.

Evidence from the Survey: Canada as a High-Trust but Still Vulnerable Case

The empirical evidence for this brief comes from the . The survey asked respondents who they believe caused the war in Ukraine and measured trust in NATO, the EU, and domestic institutions.

Figure 1: Public Trust in NATO across Alliance Countries

Canada is a useful case because public alignment with the core NATO narrative is strong overall. In the Canadian sample, approximately 84% of respondents blame Russia for the war, while only about 8% blame the West. Around 60% of reports trust NATO. This suggests that Kremin’s West-blame narrative has not received much traction in Canada.

Yet the Canadian data also show why overconfidence would be a mistake. West-blame beliefs are not evenly distributed. They are concentrated among respondents who do not trust NATO. For Canadians who trust NATO, only about 4% blame the West. Among those who do not trust NATO, the figure rises to about 15%. Similarly, about 90% of Canadians who trust NATO blame Russia, compared to about 74% among those who do not trust NATO.

Figure 2: Canadian Trust in NATO and Blame Attribution for the War in Ukraine

The full Canadian results reinforce this pattern. Controlling for socio-demographic factors, trust in NATO is strongly associated with blaming Russia for the war and strongly negatively associated with blaming the West. Other socio-demographic and attitudinal factors also matter, but the clearest and most policy-relevant pattern is the relationship between trust in NATO and blame attribution.

This does not mean that distrust in NATO automatically translates into pro-Kremlin beliefs. The relationship may run in both directions. Some citizens may distrust NATO and therefore reject NATO’s account of the war. Others may become less trusting of NATO after consuming information critical of it. Both processes could occur simultaneously. For policy purposes, however, the direction is less important than the vulnerability itself. Where trust in NATO is lower, NATO’s messages are less likely to be heard, and adversarial narratives are more likely to find receptive audiences.

Why This Matters for Canada

For Canada, the findings are directly relevant as it is an active player in Europe and, increasingly, the Arctic. Through , Canada has played a leading role in NATO’s presence in Latvia and on the Alliance’s eastern flank. Canada’s security interests extend to the Arctic, cyber defence, democratic resilience, and the protection of a rules-based order that is directly challenged by Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. In the Arctic, however, security communication must also include Inuit and other Indigenous communities as central stakeholders, since their knowledge, rights, livelihoods, and local security concerns are directly affected by how Canada defines and communicates its northern defence priorities.

Moreover, NATO can still feel abstract to many Canadians. It may appear distant, bureaucratic, European, or not sufficiently in Canada’s interests. When NATO is understood mainly as a Brussels-based security organization, it is easier for adversaries to portray it as “out-of-touchâ€� with the average Canadian. When NATO is understood as Canadian soldiers in Latvia for the purposes of preventing a wider war, as Arctic deterrence, as cyber cooperation, and as a framework that helps prevent wider war, its relevance to Canada and Canadians is strengthened.

The challenge is not simply to tell Canadians that NATO matters; it is to show how NATO strengthens Canadian security and Canada’s international role. This is particularly important as allied governments ask the public to support higher defense spending, long-term military assistance to Ukraine, and sustained deterrence. These policies require political endurance, and political endurance depends on public trust. For example, Canada’s broader efforts against foreign information manipulation and interference could connect more directly to strategic communication about NATO. Monitoring hostile narratives, exposing coordinated manipulation, and working with platforms remain necessary. However, Canada’s counter-disinformation strategy should also focus on credibility-building to increase the likelihood that its messages will resonate better with the public. This means transparency, consistency, local relevance, and messengers who can reach audiences that may not respond to official statements.

For example, Canada’s broader efforts against could connect more directly to strategic communication about NATO. Monitoring hostile narratives, exposing coordinated manipulation, and working with platforms remain necessary. However, Canada’s counter-disinformation strategy should also focus on credibility-building to increase the likelihood that its messages will resonate better with the public. This means transparency, consistency, local relevance, and messengers who can reach audiences that may not respond to official statements.

Why Rebuttals and Takedowns Are Not Enough

Democratic governments often respond to disinformation with three main tools: exposure, removal, and correction. They identify false claims, work to take them down if possible, and post factual rebuttals. These tools are important, but they tend to be reactive. By the time a false narrative has spread widely, corrections may reach only a fraction of the original audience. Also, in instances where people do not trust the institutions or organizations taking up the correcting, attempts to take down false narratives could reinforce distrust and suspicion. Studies on and show that it helps to anticipate and address manipulation techniques before people encounter them.

It may be helpful to supplement existing debunking efforts with more prebunking, building societal resistance to misinformation, and strengthening trust in NATO and similar institutions. Experimental research by show that short interventions aimed at informing people about common manipulation tactics used by hostile actors can increase resilience to misinformation. For example, before a major NATO summit, Ukrainian aid package, or deployment decision, Canadian and allied communicators can anticipate predictable claims that NATO provoked the war, Ukraine is merely a proxy, or Canada is paying for Europe’s war. Rather than waiting for these claims to circulate, Canadian and NATO communicators could explain in advance why they are misleading and how they fit into a broader Russian narrative strategy aimed at dividing and weakening Canada and NATO. This approach should be simple and delivered by trusted voices. It should avoid overly technical language.

At the same time, NATO and Canadian institutions need to avoid communicating only during crises. Trust building takes time and patience. If the public learns about the role and benefits of NATO membership only when leaders are seeking support for a given initiative, they may view such communication with suspicion.

Policy Recommendations

1. Treat trust as an early-warning indicator

Canada already monitors foreign information manipulation and interference and conducts public opinion research on security issues. Canada and its Allies should monitor public trust in NATO and other key security institutions as part of democratic resilience planning. Public opinion polls should ask respondents whether they trust NATO, the Canadian government, and similar institutions. Declining trust should be treated as an early warning indicator that more outreach is needed to reduce susceptibility to adversarial information warfare.

2. Institutionalize prebunking before predictable narrative attacks

More attention should be paid to prebunking at moments when adversarial information warfare is likely to escalate (e.g., predictable narrative attacks). Among others, such events likely include NATO summits, defense spending announcements, Ukraine aid package announcements, troop deployments abroad, and elections in allied countries. Communicators should prepare short, accessible materials that explain both the facts and the manipulation techniques adversaries are likely to use. Such efforts should be coordinated by the Canadian government, NATO allies, and other communicators to increase narrative resilience before hostile narratives reach NATO audiences.

3. Make NATO concrete in Canadian public communication

Conduct public information campaigns aimed at explaining the benefits of NATO membership and consistently connecting them to Canadian security interests. Such a campaign could use specific examples to emphasize NATO’s relevance by highlighting its leadership in Latvia, its role in Arctic security, its cyber defense capabilities, and its efforts to prevent a wider war in Europe, among others. Such communication should also be transparent about trade-offs, given legitimate questions about rising defense spending and the implications of Canada’s growing involvement in European deterrence initiatives. Credible communication should not avoid taking on difficult questions directly — in fact, addressing them should help with building trust.

4. Expand the trusted messenger network

Canada already supports public outreach initiatives aimed at countering disinformation and promoting democratic resilience. Such work should be extended to matters surrounding NATO and its work. Since government and NATO officials may not always be the most trusted communicators, Canada should aim to work with a wide network of credible messengers, including veterans, reservists, military families, educators, local officials, Ukrainian and Eastern European diaspora communities, Indigenous and northern voices on Arctic security, and independent scholars. Using such goodwill ambassadors should help key messages reach individuals across different local and social contexts. This could be a way to reach audiences distrustful of political elites.

Conclusion: Trust as Democratic Deterrence

The full-scale invasion in Ukraine highlighted that deterrence requires military capability, political will, and social resilience. Part of Russia’s challenges to NATO is represented by its hostile information operations. Moscow does not want NATO to admire Russia – it only needs enough citizens to doubt NATO’s reliability, blame the West for the invasion of Ukraine, oppose support, or lose confidence that allied institutions are telling the truth.

The Canadian evidence presented here offers both reassurance and warning — and policy recommendations outlined here aim to strengthen Canada’s broader democratic resilience. Most Canadians blame Russia for the war, and the Kremlin’s West-blame narrative remains a minority view. But that minority is meaningfully larger among those who do not trust NATO. Increasing trust in NATO, in turn, would require ongoing attention to informational campaigns aimed at raising public understanding of why and how the Alliance matters.

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Introduction

ÌıFor the first time since 1972,ÌıwhenÌıSALT I negotiations yielded the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty and the Interim Agreement on offensive arms, the strategic relationship between Washington and Moscow is entirely unconstrained by a legal framework.Ìı.ÌıAs the current normative vacuum is unprecedented in the modern era, theÌıNorth Atlantic TreatyÌıOrganizationÌı(NATO)ÌıAlliance facesÌıa new ‘strategic trilemma’:Ìıthe simultaneous and often contradictory imperativesÌıof maintaining credible extended deterrence;Ìıenhancing conventional defence against hybrid and missile threats;Ìıand reconstructing a confidence-building, risk-reduction framework to prevent accidental escalation. The central policy problem is that the traditional tools of strategic stabilityÌı– quantitative and qualitative ceilings, inspections, and transparencyÌı–Ìıhave been discarded in favour of verticalÌınuclearÌıproliferation. NATO must navigate an environment whereÌıthe absence of constraints increases the risk of miscalculations, potentially leading to an unmanaged arms race that reduces the securityÌıfor allÌıNATO Allies.ÌıÌı

Context: The Long Transition and the Paradox of the New STARTÌı

TheÌıinternationalÌıarms control regime, which persisted through various systemic shifts from 1972 until 2026, has finally fractured. However, a rigorous assessmentÌıof its lifespanÌısuggests that the final pillar of this regime,Ìıthe New START,Ìıwas already flawed.ÌıÌıThis omission allowed Moscow to channel its modernization efforts toward lethal, MIRV-capable systems,Ìıwhile remaining formallyÌıcompliant toÌıthe treaty limit of 1,550 warheads.Ìı,ÌıMoscow’s StrategicÌıRocketÌıForces (RVSN) and the missile industry exploited this normativeÌı‘shield’Ìıto initiate a massiveÌı‘re-MIRVing’Ìıprocess. This modernization was driven by aÌıÌıwithin the Russian military-industrial complex. By focusing on systems that exploited New START’s qualitative loopholes, institutional actors, such as theÌı, secured long-term funding and development pathways for a new generation of delivery vehicles. This momentumÌıfacilitatedÌıthe emergence of a direct nexus between treaty-compliant modernization and the later deployment of advanced long-range capabilities on the Ukrainian battlefield.Ìı

The Strategic Trilemma between Extended Deterrence and the ‘Upload’ DisparityÌı

The end of New START has transformed the re-MIRVing process into a catalyst for a new arms race. In this new unconstrained environment, the US possesses a significant technical advantage. . If the US opts to utilize its technological edge, it would effectively out-deploy Moscow, potentially doubling its arsenal to levels above the failed treaty’s limits.  In response, Moscow may prioritize asymmetrical offset centred on long-range theatre strike capabilities. This likely reaction is deeply rooted in the bureaucratic momentum of Russian military-industrial complex, favouring dual capable systems that operate in regulatory grey zones.   

Defence, Resilience, and the Hypersonic Decision Gap

ÌıUnlike traditionalÌıICBMs, which allow for a 25-plus minutes warning window, a hypersonic system launched from central Europe can reach critical command nodes in Moscow in less than 10 minutes. ThisÌıÌıin decision time undermines de-escalatory signalling and placesÌıÌıon the adversary’s early warning systems, potentially triggering automated ‘launch on warning’ responses. Even a conventional strike on communications, command-and-control (C3) centres would be strategically relevant. Therefore,Ìıthe deployment of such systems in substantial numbers would create a ‘launch-on-warning’ incentive for Moscow, further destabilizing the offensive-defensiveÌıbalance and increasing the risk of automated nuclear response.ÌıÌı

Managing UncertaintyÌıin a Multipolar SystemÌı

Emerging from a Cold War environment coalesced around a bipolar international power-distribution, traditional arms control has proven ill-suited for the asymmetrical, multipolar international disorder of the last two decades.  In a world without inspections, stability depends on predictability. To achieve this goal, the international community must work to prevent accidental escalation through transparency and launch notifications. The reconstruction of a stabilizing framework is currently stymied by two primary structural hurdles: Russia’s current lack of trustworthiness and China’s strategic intentions.  

The main obstacle to reopening dialogue with Russia is the paradox of negotiating limits on the same systems being employed in the current war in Ukraine. It would be politically fraught for the US to engage in fresh negotiations, while Russia utilizes these assets as tool of active coercion and battlefield destruction. . This move puts Washington in an uneasy negotiating position, forcing it to negotiate over assets that France and the United Kingdom (UK) consider non-negotiable. This is hardly a novel tactic:  Putin’s proposal risks to exacerbate infra-systemic fault lines, foster suspects of decoupling, and ‘fears of abandonment’ between the US and its European Allies. Simultaneously, China’s strategic stalling (and its own ambitions to increase its arsenal) prevents the necessary transition toward a trilateral framework. By hiding behind the rhetoric of minimal deterrence, Beijing refuses to accept any oversight while rapidly expanding its nuclear and conventional inventory.  

While the American and Russian nuclear stockpiles greatly exceed those of all other nuclear-weapon states, the strategic equation has irrevocably shifted from a bipolar to a multipolar calculus through China’s ambitions to drastically increase its own arsenal.  These missiles provide Beijing with a high-precision, non-nuclear capability to hold regional strategic assets in the mire, including forward air bases, carrier strike groups, and command-and-control (C2) nodes.  This scenario of ‘conventional entanglement’ complicates the global force posture of NATO’s primary security provider, the US.   

Technological Acceleration: The AI-Hypersonic NexusÌı

The ‘Strategic Trilemma’ is further complicated by the integration ofÌıÌıand launch-control systems. As theÌıÌıthrough the deployment of Hypersonic Glide Vehicles (HGVs), the decision-making window for political leaders has shrunk from thirty minutes to mere seconds.Ìı.ÌıHowever, the ‘black-box’ nature of neural network-based AI introduces unprecedentedÌı. Because these models recognize patterns in ways that are non-replicable and often incomprehensible to human operators, they are prone to hallucinations or false positives – interpreting unusual atmospheric phenomena or cyber-spoofing as an incoming strike. In a strategic environment dominated by fast-flying systems like theÌıDark EagleÌıorÌıOreshnik, the reliance on AI-driven recommendations could lead to a ‘compressed escalation’ where a machineÌıinitiatesÌıa retaliatory strike before human deliberation even occurs. This technological entanglementÌınecessitatesÌıthat any futureÌıarmsÌıcontrol negotiations must deal not only with warheads and delivery systems, but also with the algorithms governing their employment.ÌıÌı

The Shift towards Integrated DeterrenceÌı

In response to this acceleration, NATO has transitioned toward a posture of integrated deterrence. With the expiration of New START in sight, the North Atlantic Council (NAC) moved to solidify the Alliance’s defensive architecture.  This strategic shift was codified on February 12, 2026, when several NATO Allies launched  to develop next-generation sensors designated to counter ballistic and hypersonic threats (like the Hypersonic and Ballistic Tracking Space Sensor (HBTSS)). These initiatives, alongside a new  for drone-based deep precision strike capability, signal a move away from static, treaty-based stability, toward a dynamic denial posture. Furthermore, the  reinforces this approach by emphasizing trans-regional deterrence, acknowledging that while NATO remains a regional alliance, its security is inextricably tied to the ‘two-peer’ challenge.  

Policy Recommendations:ÌıÌı

1. Rediscover a dual approach: Combine military modernization with a standingÌınegotiatingÌıofferÌıto both Russia andÌıChinaÌıon Strategic Stability Dialogue,Ìıwhich wouldÌılikely benefitÌıNATOÌıAlliance cohesion by reassuring the most risk-adverse NATOÌımemberÌıstates.ÌıÌı

2. Prioritize Qualitative Limits: Advocate for a Multilateral MIRV-freeze to mitigate first-strike incentives and neutralize the advantage of rapid uploading.ÌıÌıIn the post-START environment, the primary risk is no longer aggregate warheads counts, but the rapid surgeÌıinÌıcapacity,Ìıafforded by US upload potential and Russia’s modernization of MIRV-capable systems.ÌıA ‘freeze’ approach would be aimed at neutralizing the perceived advantages of rapid arsenal expansion, signalling a commitment to strategic sufficiency rather than theÌırecklessÌıpursuit of superiority.ÌıÌı

3. EstablishÌı‘Cold WarÌıPlus’ÌıCommunication Channels: Strengthen secure, real-time links between military headquarters to manage crisis in an era of hypersonic weapons.ÌıNATO should strengthen secure, real-time links between military headquarters – specificallyÌıthe Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE)Ìıand the Russian Ministry of Defence – to manage crisis in an era defined by HGVs. These channels must be hardened against cyber-interferences and electronic warfare to ensure theyÌıremainÌıviableÌıduring high-intensity grey zone friction or hybrid confrontations.ÌıÌı

4. Manage AI Integration in Command and Control:ÌıEstablishÌı‘human-in-the-loop’ standards between launch commands and early warning systems toÌıpreventÌıAIÌısystemsÌıfrom triggering accidental escalation during high-speed hypersonic encounters.ÌıWhile AI may become indispensable for processing massive data streams from next-generationÌısensors like the HBTSS, it must neverÌıpossessÌıthe autonomous authority toÌıinitiateÌıa response. Hence, theÌıNATOÌıAlliance should champion an international protocol that mandatesÌıa ‘’ for human commanders, even in high-speed hypersonic confrontations.Ìı

5. Define a Clear Doctrine for Conventional Hypersonic: Clarify that systems likeÌıDark EagleÌıare forÌı,Ìıwhile acknowledging thatÌıÌıremainsÌıinherently destabilizing.ÌıNATO should explicitly disavow ‘decapitation’ or strategic nuclear roles for these assets to reduce the risk of Russia misperceiving conventional precision strikes as existential threats to itsÌıC2Ìıarchitecture.Ìı

6. Strengthen Hybrid Resilience: Protect undersea and digital infrastructure as a coreÌıcomponentÌıof strategic stability to preventÌıhybrid,Ìınon-kinetic bypassing of deterrence.ÌıBy neutralizing low-cost, high-impact hybrid threats, theÌıNATOÌıAlliance prevents adversaries from bypassing deterrence thresholdsÌıand undermining stability at the lowest level of the escalation ladder. This approach ensures that the emerging new capabilities in air, missile, and drone-defence would not beÌıcompromisedÌıby asymmetric disruption aimed at eroding domestic resilience and political will during a crisis.ÌıÌı

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Introduction

In 2025, the United States (US)-Türkiye relationship moved beyond the traditional logic of NATO Alliance cohesion and entered a phase of strategic bargaining. Once anchored almost exclusively in NATO solidarity and Cold War–era security imperatives, bilateral ties between the nations are now being increasingly shaped by two defining and interconnected issues: Türkiye’s calibrated position on the war in Ukraine and its growing relevance in the geopolitics of rare earth elements and critical minerals.¹ These dynamics reflect a broader transformation of the international system and intra-alliance dynamics in which great power competition, fragmented supply chains, and regional autonomy are increasingly overriding ideological alignment.  

For Washington, Türkiye remains indispensable but unreliable; for Ankara, the US is a necessary but constraining partner. The challenge for both sides is how to construct a functional partnership that accommodates a divergence of alignment while still delivering strategic value. Rare earth elements and Türkiye’s role in Ukraine offer precisely such a framework: material, interest-based, and adaptable to a world defined by competition with Russia and China. 

Türkiye, Ukraine, and the Logic of Strategic AutonomyÌı

Türkiye’s response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 has crystallized its broader foreign policy doctrine. Ankara condemned the invasion, supported Ukraine’s territorial integrity, supplied Kyiv with military equipment, and closed the Turkish Straits to military traffic under the Montreux Convention. At the same time, it refused to impose sanctions on Russia and preserved energy, trade, and diplomatic ties with Moscow. 

This approach is often described in Washington as “â€� but from Ankara’s perspective, it is a rational expression of strategic autonomy.&²Ô²ú²õ±è;°Õü°ù°ì¾±²â±ğ&²Ô²ú²õ±è;views the war not only as a European security crisis but also a  with direct implications for its own stability, energy security, and economic resilience. Full alignment with Western sanctions would expose Türkiye to severe economic costs, exacerbate inflation, and jeopardize energy supplies, while full alignment with Russia would undermine its role in NATO. 

Türkiye’s early mediation efforts following the invasion of Ukraine have reinforced its self-image as an indispensable intermediary between Russia and the West. Unlike most NATO Allies, Ankara retains the ability to communicate credibly with both sides. For the US, this role is double-edged: it dilutes Alliance discipline but preserves a diplomatic channel with Russia that would otherwise not exist. 

US Expectations and Limits of Alliance DisciplineÌı

Throughout the second Trump presidency, the US has viewed the war in Ukraine less as a fundamental test of the rules-based international order and more as a measure of Allied burden-sharing and loyalty to US interests. Washington’s discard of normative alignment and expectations of tangible demonstrations of support carries deep implications for Türkiye that benefits substantially from NATO security guarantees. In this context, Ankara’s refusal to impose sanctions on Russia and its continued economic engagement with Moscow are not seen as violations of shared principles, but rather as opportunistic behaviour that undermines NATO cohesion and reinforces perceptions of Allies â€˜freeloading’ off US protection. 

Yet, these expectations reflect an older model of Alliance behaviour that is increasingly difficult to sustain. In a multipolar system, medium powers like Türkiye are less willing to subordinate their interests to bloc politics. Ankara’s behaviour in Ukraine is not an anomaly but a signal of how smaller and middle powers navigate systemic competition: hedging, mediating, and extracting leverage from multiple relationships simultaneously. 

This suggests that pressuring the Turkish government into full alignment may be counterproductive. Excessive coercion risks accelerating Ankara’s drift toward alternative partnerships, while reducing US influence over Turkish strategic choices. The challenge for Washington, therefore, is not to put an end to Turkish autonomy, but to channel it toward outcomes compatible with US interests. 

Rare EarthÌıElementsÌıand the New Geopolitics of Supply ChainsÌı

In October 2025, President Recep Tayyip Erdogan announced that Türkiye had identified the world’s second largest reserve of rare earth elements, containing an estimated 694 million tons of mineral resources in Beylikova, located in northwestern Türkiye. The discovery includes .&²Ô²ú²õ±è;°Õü°ù°ì¾±²â±ğ&²Ô²ú²õ±è; developing rare-earth reserves in western Anatolia with the US after similar talks with China and Russia were halted amid disagreements over control; it is also engaging with  on potential cooperation. Türkiye plans on building a refinery in Beylikova, which contains ore with more than 1% rare-earth oxide by weight.  In addition, Ankara plans to apply to the Australian Institute of Geoscientists for certification under the JORC Code, which sets minimum standards for how companies publicly report exploration results and would reveal the size of deposits for potential investors. 

Ankara’s talks with Western partners come as the US and the European Union (EU) step up efforts to reduce China’s dominance in the production and processing of rare earth elements. The Turkish government has sought to balance its ties with both the West and China amid growing global trade tensions. In September 2025, Türkiye joined a  led by the US and EU aimed at diversifying critical mineral supply chains; however, it has also been offered partner-country status to the BRICS group of emerging-market powers and attracted Chinese investment in electric vehicle production. In 2026, the EU  a new agreement with US and Japan to cooperate on critical raw materials supply chains.  

It is within this context that rare earth elements and critical minerals acquire strategic significance. The global competition over rare earth elements has become a central front in US-China geopolitical rivalry. China’s dominant position across extraction, processing, and downstream manufacturing of these elements represents a structural vulnerability for the US and its partners. For Ankara, cooperation supports its goal of moving up the global value chain, reducing reliance on external suppliers, and strengthening its role in strategic industries, such as defense systems, medical technologies, and consumer electronics. For Washington, Türkiye represents a politically and geographically viable partner in efforts to diversify supply chains for key technological and defence products while reducing dependence on China without concentrating production in a limited number of partner countries. 

Diversifying supply chains is therefore a national security imperative and Türkiye is increasingly relevant for three reasons: firstly, it possesses geological potential for rare earth elements and other strategic minerals; second, it has a substantial industrial base capable of supporting processing and manufacturing; and third, its geographic position makes it a hub connecting Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. 

Linking Rare EarthÌıElementsÌıand Ukraine: Strategic ComplementarityÌı

The intersection between cooperation on rare earth elements and Türkiye’s position on Ukraine is not coincidental. Both issues raise the same underlying question: how much strategic autonomy can Türkiye exercise while remaining embedded in the Western alliance structure?  

Economic interdependence in critical sectors creates incentives for alignment that political pressure alone cannot achieve. A structured US-Türkiye partnership on rare earth exploration, processing, and technology transfer would deepen mutual dependence, making a sharp geopolitical rupture less likely. Such cooperation would strengthen Türkiye’s stake in a Western-oriented economic order, indirectly shaping its calculations on Ukraine. While it would not compel Ankara to adopt sanctions or abandon mediation, it would raise costs of drifting too far from US strategic priorities. This logic is visible in US efforts to structure critical mineral partnerships with Ukraine, suggesting that resource cooperation is emerging as a broader instrument of strategic alignment rather than a case-specific initiative. 

Russia, China, andÌıTürkiye’s Hedging StrategyÌı

Türkiye’s approach to rare earths must also be understood in the context of its broader hedging strategy vis-à-vis Russia and China. Moscow remains a key energy supplier and a critical actor in the Black Sea, while Beijing is an increasingly important trade and investment partner for Türkiye. 

China’s dominance in the rare earth industry presents Ankara with both an opportunity and a constraint. On the one hand, Chinese investment and technology are an attractive prospect for developing Türkiye’s mineral sector. On the other, excessive reliance on China would undermine Türkiye’s aspiration for strategic autonomy and expose it to geopolitical pressure from its Western partners A US-Türkiye partnership on rare earth elements offers Ankara an alternative path â€“ one that diversifies external dependencies. For Washington, engaging with Türkiye reduces the likelihood that Ankara will default to China. 

Türkiye’s value extends well beyond economics. Its control of access to the Black Sea, close proximity to Ukraine, Russia, and the Middle East, and strong military capabilities make it a cornerstone of NATO’s southern and eastern flanks. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has reinforced the strategic importance of the Black Sea as a contested space where naval power, energy routes, and regional stability intersect. Türkiye’s enforcement of the Montreux Convention has limited Russian naval reinforcement and demonstrated Ankara’s capacity to shape the operational environment without direct military confrontation. This contribution, though often overlooked, has tangible value for Ukraine, the US and other NATO Allies. Maintaining Türkiye’s integration within NATO is therefore essential, even as undercurrents persist. Cooperation on rare earth elements complements this objective by reinforcing Türkiye’s embeddedness in the Western order. 

Scenarios for the Evolution of US-Türkiye RelationsÌı

Several trajectories could shape US-Türkiye relations in the coming years. 

Scenario 1: Strategic Convergence Through Economic Anchoring 

In this scenario, the US and Türkiye deepen cooperation on rare earth elements and other critical minerals, integrating cooperation with broader collaboration in defense technologies, energy transition, and industrial policy. Deepening economic interdependence would help stabilize the bilateral relationship and provide a practical framework for managing political differences. Türkiye would continue to act as a semi-autonomous NATO Ally â€“ aligned with the US on core security interests, while retaining flexibility in its diplomatic engagement with other powers and partners. 

Scenario 2: Strategic Drift and Competitive Hedging 

If cooperation on rare earth elements fails to materialize and political tensions over Ukraine intensify, Türkiye may deepen its ties with Russia and China. In this scenario, Ankara’s mediation role loses value for Washington, and the relationship becomes increasingly transactional and distrustful. NATO cohesion weakens, and supply chain cooperation shifts elsewhere. 

Scenario 3: Managed Autonomy and Functional Partnership 

In the most realistic scenario, the US accepts Türkiye’s strategic autonomy while selectively deepening cooperation in areas of high mutual value, particularly rare earth elements and Black Sea security.&²Ô²ú²õ±è;°Õü°ù°ì¾±²â±ğ&²Ô²ú²õ±è;continues to mediate Ukraine, and Washington leverages this role pragmatically, even as political differences persist. 

Policy Options for the United States 

US policy toward Türkiye should place cooperation on rare earth elements and critical minerals at the centre of the bilateral agenda, elevating it to a strategic pillar within broader efforts to reduce supply chain dependence on China. This would require the adoption of concrete measures, including investment, technology sharing, and regulatory coordination. At the same time, Washington should continue to reassess Türkiye’s approach to Ukraine by focusing more on practical outcomes, recognizing that Ankara’s efforts and selective support for Kyiv can contribute to regional stability in ways that rigid conformity may not. Strengthening high-level institutional dialogue that links security, economic, and industrial policy would help reduce misunderstandings and prevent tensions from overshadowing the broader relationship. Finally, the US should reaffirm Türkiye’s central role within NATO while accepting that member country cohesion in a multipolar environment will inevitably involve tension and diversity in policies and approaches,  

Conclusion: From Alignment to Strategic InterdependenceÌı

The US-Türkiye relationship in 2025 highlights how NATO may increasingly be shaped by pragmatism and negotiated interests, alongside â€“ but not replaced by â€“ shared values and ideological affinity. In this context, values remain relevant but may no longer be sufficient on their own to sustain strategic partnerships. Instead, cooperation is structured through selective interdependence across security, economic, and technological domains. Türkiye’s calibrated approach to Ukraine and its growing role in rare earth elements and critical mineral supply chains should therefore be seen as interdependent strategies, offering broader theoretical insights regarding contemporary alliance patterns. 

For the US, this shift may require a recalibration of expectations. The ultimate choice is not between accepting Turkish autonomy or attempting to impose alliance discipline, but between shaping that autonomy through sustained engagement or allowing it to evolve in ways increasingly misaligned with US interests. Treating Türkiye’s behaviour as a problem of non-compliance risks overlooking the structural forces driving Ankara’s decisions. A strategy centred on pressure alone is unlikely to succeed and may intensify Türkiye’s temptations to turn toward alternative partnerships. Instead, over time, deepening interdependence could play a stabilizing role, mitigate political disputes and increase the costs of strategic divergence on both sides. 

Ultimately, in an era defined by multipolar competition and systemic rivalry, resilience will depend more on flexible, interest-based cooperation. The combination of cooperation on rare earth elements and pragmatic engagement on Ukraine offers a framework through which the US and NATO can adapt their approach to Türkiye without relinquishing core strategic objectives. By prioritizing realism, mutual benefit, and long-term interdependence, Washington can help ensure that Türkiye remains a pivotal â€” if unconventional â€” partner, capable of contributing to Western security and economic resilience in an increasingly fragmented world. 

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Executive Summary

Authoritarian states are increasingly using police organizations to target diaspora communities in democratic countries. This is especially evident in the misuse of Interpol’s Red Notice system to bypass extradition barriers and pursue dissidents abroad. When politically motivated notices are dispersed through Canadian policing systems, they risk compromising the integrity of international law enforcement cooperation, increasing the likelihood of refoulement which violates Canada’s legal obligations, and exacerbates a chilling effect among diaspora communities. In doing so, these notices expose the vulnerabilities in Canada’s domestic protections by allowing foreign states the ability to project coercive influence through Canadian political institutions.  

While this brief focuses on the misuse of INTERPOL mechanisms as a specific form of Transnational Repression (TR), it sits within a broader context of state-led repression ranging from the People’s Republic of China to India. It uses Tajikistan as a case study to highlight vulnerabilities in INTERPOL’s vetting process, including insufficient pre-screening and the burden placed on victims to prove their innocence. These weaknesses enable states to exploit Canadian institutions to harass and deport political refugees, a practice known as Transnational Repression (TR).  

TR has occurred in Canada, demonstrating the urgent need for a governmental response.  The focus of this policy brief is on the use of INTERPOL to target dissidents. To address these challenges, this brief proposes specific procedural enhancements to protect the asylum process and strengthen pre-existing domestic protections to protect Canada’s diaspora communities. 

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Introduction

Recent think tank and policy discussionsÌıaboutÌıtheÌıRussianÌıFederationÌıhave primarily focused on three issues: the prospects of a peace agreement between Russia and Ukraine;Ìıdevelopments on the battlefield;Ìıand the limits of Russia’s resilience to Western economic sanctions (). While these questions are undoubtedly centralÌıto the ongoing war, they risk obscuring a critical dimension of European securityÌı–Ìıthat is, the future of enemy politics, orÌı“enemization,â€�ÌıinÌıpost-war Russia.Ìı

In this policy brief, enemization refers to the systematic construction and reproduction of internal and external enemy images by political elites and state-controlled media, framing so-called “enemiesâ€� as existential threats to national survival, identity, and sovereignty. Enemization serves crucial political functions such as legitimizing authoritarian governance, mobilizing public support for repressive and confrontational domestic and foreign policies (; ). While enemization has radicalized during the war against Ukraine, it reflects a broader and longer-standing pattern in Russian politics. Even if the war ends, enemization is likely to remain one of the central organizing frameworks shaping how Russian political discourse interprets international relations, if an authoritarian regime continues. In this case, the European Union (EU) is likely to continue being framed as an adversary, limiting prospects for stable post-war engagement across Eurasia and sustaining long-term security risks.  

Therefore, understanding how enemization functions, why it persists, and how it shapes Russia’s postwar behaviour is essential for developing realistic and effective EU policy responses. Even though enemization also occurs in other countries of various political systems, the case of Russia â€“ as a neighbouring country that has demonstrated willingness to use force â€“ plays substantial relevance for European security. This policy brief examines the persistence of enemization in Russia and evaluates its implications for European security and long-term post-war engagement, arguing that under conditions of continued authoritarian rule, enemy narratives are likely to remain a durable feature of Russian politics regardless of war outcomes or leadership configurations.

Continuity andÌıEscalation ofÌıEnemizationÌıin RussiaÌı

Enemization in Russia has been a recurring feature of Russian public discourse since at least the 1990s, when political, social, and economic instability revived threat and enemy perceptions, conspiracy theories, and nostalgia for “glorious pastâ€� and a strong state (Gudkov 2005¹; ). The Chechen wars and terrorist attacks further reinforced enemy framing, while trust in military and security institutions, including the presidency, grew stronger (Gudkov 2005). Under Putin, negative mobilization of the population around the ideas of enemies, threats, and other symbolic constituents of the besieged fortress narrative has become a core component of regime communication and governance (; ).  

Enemization dynamics are visible in concrete rhetorical and legislative practices. Russian propaganda, following a long-established Soviet mechanism of using references to Nazis or Fascists to delegitimize political opponents (), routinely frames Ukraine as a “Nazi regimeâ€� (), or Western values as aimed to destroy Russian culture, while domestic opposition and various social minorities are labelled as foreign agents, traitors, or extremists. Legislative measures continue to limit human rights and freedoms of these alleged enemies (), while intensifying public glorification of wartime sacrifices and spreading binary logic of enmity into education and other spheres of social life.  

The full-scale invasion of Ukraine represents the culmination of the enemization in Russian public discourse. To justify aggressive foreign policies and domestic repressions against its own citizens, the Russian regime has strengthened and radicalized its propaganda of enmity. Russian social surveys results, although requiring cautious interpretation, consistently demonstrate a widespread public endorsement, usually between 70 and 80% of respondents, of enemy images portraying Russia as a besieged fortress surrounded by hostile actors (). These enemy images are reflected in official state communications and state media framing of Ukraine as a “Nazi regimeâ€�; the West as seeking Russia’s collapse; and active narration of foreign agents and traitors among domestic political opposition and other social groups such as religious and sexual minorities. Such narratives reinforce the perception of existential threats to the Russian worldview – also commonly referred to as Ruskiy Mir â€“ and legitimize aggressive foreign policies and repressions at home.  

Although questions remain as to what extent Russian elites genuinely believe in these enemy narratives or opportunistically instrumentalize them, public opinion data shows widespread support of enemy perceptions with official messaging (). Even if the Russian regime adopts less confrontational rhetoric, the institutionalization and long-term reproduction of enemy narratives across political discourse, media, and education may suggest that such perceptions will persist at least for a certain period. This persistence reflects not an inherent social disposition, but rather the cumulative effect of sustained propaganda of enmity which resonates, among other things, with certain popular – though not uniform – perceptions, biases, opinions, and worldviews present within a society (). For Europe, this means that rhetorical moderation alone should not be read as evidence of rapid de-escalation, since the drivers reproducing enemy narratives may remain in place after the formal conclusion of the war. 

TheÌıDrivers ofÌıPost-WarÌıEnemizationÌıin RussiaÌı

Enemization in Russia should not be understood as a temporary wartime social and political mobilization tool, but as a longstanding political instrument and condition. First, a substantial and meaningful reversal of enemy narratives would require a major disruption of the Russian political and informational environment that sustains it. Second, enemization in wartime Russia predates the war and has become institutionalized in Russian politics throughout history. The routinized enemy narratives tend to be self-reinforcing, shaping public expectations and interpretations even after the immediate conditions that intensified them have changed. Finally, enemization is closely linked to a broader narrative of confrontation with the West, within which the war against Ukraine is framed as a separate episode in a bigger geopolitical struggle (); a particular possible scenario if Putin remains in power. Thus, even if hostilities end, the drivers that reinforce enemization are likely to persist, allowing enemy narratives remain in place and manifest.  

Although military outcomes of the war against Ukraine remain obscure, they will likely shape the tone and targets of Russian enemization in distinct ways while keeping the underlying logic intact. Russian authorities will likely declare any war outcomes as victorious, and such declarations will reinforce enemization by legitimizing the use of military force as an effective foreign policy instrument, and the use of repression as an effective domestic policy instrument (); both are based on the perception of enemies and threats. If the war ends in a prolonged stalemate without clear successes and lines drawn, the Kremlin could credibly sell narratives to the population; enemization may shift from triumphalist to resentful tones, picturing Russia as constrained or undermined by hostile external and internal forces which prevented the country from achieving a complete victory. Finally, possible military defeat could intensify revanchist narratives and scapegoating directed at already constructed enemies. Thus, across these outcomes, enemization is likely to be adapted and reformulated but not abandoned. 

One may hope that substantial regime change may positively affect enemization by beginning its partial or even full demobilization. This unlikely possibility requires us to look deeper into the phenomenon. While political leadership in autocratic Russia shapes policy choices, enemization also draws on pre-existing historical perceptions and biases in parts of society; rather than inventing enemies from scratch, Russian propaganda amplifies and rearticulates such narratives by promoting the most useful ones in a given political context (Gudkov 2005). These enemy narratives are embedded in state institutions, public expectations about politics, security, and national identity. As a result, Russian political elites operate within pre-determined moral boundaries that constrain the range of discursive options, including how enemies are defined, justified, and, if needed, de-enemized (). Even in the event of elite change, successor elites would likely be motivated to maintain at least elements of familiar narratives of enemization to avoid accusations of weakness, betrayal, and capitulation, especially from those we define as ultra-patriotic and nationalist radicals. In turn, to secure some stability amidst the leadership’s change, the new elites may find it easier to reproduce familiar enemy constructs, instead of dismantling them altogether, as historical experience in post-Soviet Russia in the 1990s suggests.   

To conclude, post-war Russia is likely to remain dependent on enemization as a policy instrument across a range of plausible war outcomes. While the specific targets and intensity of enemization may shift, the institutional framework that supports them will likely persist. Even a regime change would not automatically disband enemy narratives as the new elites may face strong incentive to continue employing in some way such enemy rhetoric to secure their own power. That is why Europe should prepare for a strong possibility to deal with Russia, in which enemization remains politically usable even if its form evolves over time.

PolicyÌıImplications andÌıRecommendations for EuropeÌı

As demonstrated above, enemization depends on propaganda’s resonance with pre-existing social and historical biases and perceptions. State messages about a hostile West or treacherous domestic political opposition draw much of its legitimacy from this resonance. Accordingly, it is unlikely that certain changes in European policies or rhetoric would suffice to transform elite threat messaging. Despite contemporary censorship conditions in Russia, however, European actions remain visible and preferable to at least some segments of Russian society. Therefore, Europe should prioritize reaching Russian society directly through its policies to mitigate enemization narratives. Even though Europe cannot directly dismantle enemization narratives within Russia, EU policies could influence the credibility and resonance of such narratives while showing that it does not consider Russian society as a whole to be a threat nor an actor to be punished.  

1. European post-war strategic communication planning should aim for long-term deterrence over rapid or even gradual normalization.  

Europe needs to base their post-war planning on the assumption that enemization in Russia will persist after the end of active hostilities in Ukraine and that it will affect Russian foreign and domestic political agendas. Although the EU has already invested substantial resources in becoming more independent from Russian energy and raw materials, as well as in its military industrial complex, such planning also requires a well-planned discursive strategy of communicating with not only the Russian regime or state elites, but Russian society as a whole. Expectations that Russia will become more pacifist and less prone to use militant instruments due to its losses in Ukraine appear to be wishful thinking, so it is essential to embrace the opposite possibility to manage the security effects of this enemization. 

2. Utilize discursive restraint in official communication.  

European officials should avoid using rhetorical frames in public speeches and documents that portray Russia as a civilizational enemy or a permanently hostile society. This, however, by no means implies that the official rhetoric needs to be softened towards the Russian government â€“ the condemnation of Russian aggression is necessary and justified. Discursive restraint, suggested here as the policy instrument, should be understood not as conciliation but rather as a tool to limit the discursive reproduction of enemization.  

3. Clearly differentiate between the Russian regime and the population.  

Although the issue of moral responsibility of the society in an authoritarian regime for the crimes committed throughout the war is a subject of academic and political debates, avoiding the narrative of collective responsibility may be beneficial, specifically in this case of mitigating the risks of enemization for European security. Messaging that brings together the regime and the population contributes to the regime’s claim that it represents the nation as a whole and validates narratives of collective punishment and guilt. This in turn leads to consolidation of the Russian public around their leaders or, at the very least, around the narratives framing Europe as a threat and enemy to Russians.  

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Executive Summary

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 has been a leading factor in the rise of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) in Ukraine. CRSV has a wide scope and is gendered in nature; it includes rape as a weapon of war, as well as sexual slavery, forced prostitution, forced pregnancy, sexual torture, forced abortion, forced sterilization, forced marriage, and other similar acts of sexual violence and abuse, directly and indirectly linked to conflict and war. CRSV has primarily been perpetrated by the Russian military forces in occupied Ukrainian territories, including against women, girls, men, boys, civilians, detainees, and prisoners of war. This violence must be understood not only as a set of individual war crimes but also as part of a gendered strategy of domination that links occupation, militarized masculinity, and attacks on Ukraine’s social and political order (Kratochvíl & O’Sullivan, 2023; OHCHR, 2023). This is one form of war crime that is clearly prohibited under international law. The war has also had the effect of exacerbating pre-existing domestic violence trends in Ukraine. Thus, the full-scale invasion of Ukraine has had a dual effect: it has brought with it a sharp increase in CRSV being strategically carried out by Russian forces across the country, while also testing the domestic gender governance structures across the country as it relates to domestic violence. 

Major legislative reforms in the Ukrainian domestic legal system were introduced in June 2022, following the ratification of the Istanbul Convention. The reforms have aimed to ensure that Ukraine’s legal system is in line with the European Union’s standards regarding prevention and protection from violence against women. There are, however, gaps that remain and need to be addressed: further resources for investigating cases of violence; gender-sensitive training for police officers, prosecutors, and judges; improved coordination between institutions; sustainable funding for shelters and crisis centres; and stronger monitoring within the security and defence sectors. These reforms should also be read through Ukraine’s Women, Peace and Security (WPS) commitments, particularly the protection and prevention pillars of the WPS agenda. 

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