Issue briefs and reports - Atlantic Council https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/category/in-depth-research-reports/ Shaping the global future together Tue, 31 Mar 2026 16:43:58 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.1 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/favicon-150x150.png Issue briefs and reports - Atlantic Council https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/category/in-depth-research-reports/ 32 32 Securing cloud infrastructure for AI https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/securing-cloud-infrastructure-ai/ Tue, 31 Mar 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=914906 With AI raising the stakes of cloud security and key cybersecurity institutions weakened or dissolved, this brief outlines needed policy steps to promote transparency and accountability across the cloud ecosystem.

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Executive summary

Securing artificial intelligence (AI) infrastructure requires ensuring the security of the cloud ecosystem. The cloud infrastructure that implements and executes AI workloads presents an opening for adversaries that existing vulnerability management institutions were not designed to cover. This brief examines the mechanisms through which vulnerabilities in cloud infrastructure are discovered, disclosed, communicated, and remediated, and finds them to be inadequate to meet the security demands of an ecosystem in which AI has a growing impact.

Nation-state actors continue to target cloud environments, compressing vulnerability discovery and exploitation timelines. At the same time, public vulnerability data, anchored by the Common Vulnerabilities and Exposures (CVE) ID system and the linked National Vulnerability Database (NVD), faces severe strain. The policy institutions tasked with addressing cloud security face leadership vacuums, funding uncertainty, and competing priorities.

Community and industry driven efforts to respond to these challenges remain fragmented and voluntary, while providers operate without public accountability. Making progress on these urgent challenges requires policy mechanisms to incentivize and mandate clarity and transparency in the cloud ecosystem.

Background

In the United States, several essential cybersecurity authorities and institutions face simultaneous disruption. The Cyber Incident Reporting for Critical Infrastructure Act (CIRCIA), passed in 2022, proposed to establish the country’s first mandatory incident reporting regime for critical infrastructure sectors, has seen the publication of its final rule delayed to May 2026. The Cybersecurity Information Sharing Act of 2015 (CISA 2015), which provides liability and antitrust protections for companies sharing threat indicators with the federal government and each other, lapsed on September 30, 2025 and received only a temporary extension through September 2026, with bipartisan reauthorization efforts stalled in Congress. The Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency (CISA) continues to operate without a confirmed director, after the Senate failed to act on the administration’s nominee, and the agency has seen workforce reductions that have diminished its operational readiness. The Cyber Safety Review Board (CSRB), which conducted a landmark investigation of the 2023 Microsoft Exchange Online compromise, was dissolved in early 2025.

In Europe, a set of untested regulatory instruments are taking effect. The European Union (EU) NIS2 Directive expanded cybersecurity obligations for 18 critical sectors. The Cyber Resilience Act (CRA), adopted in 2024 with enforcement beginning in 2027, will require digital product manufacturers to build in cybersecurity capabilities and provide vulnerability disclosure mechanisms. The United Kingdom (UK) Cyber Security and Resilience Bill is progressing through Parliament with similar objectives.

The US, UK, and EU have also adopted policy approaches and established agencies specific to AI. In the US, the Trump administration’s AI Action Plan outlined goals of exporting the US AI stack abroad. The EU AI Act imposed obligations on AI developers based on the level of risk posed by specific AI models. The US and UK also established AI-specific testing and research organizations, the Center for AI Standards and Innovation (CAISI) and the AI Security Institute (AISI) respectively.

Cloud computing

Cloud computing describes a model of access to computing resources, where customers specify workloads, or defined sets of tasks, which cloud providers implement and execute. This model of access is an important part of AI development and deployment, and frontier AI companies have partnered with cloud providers to ensure access to cutting-edge compute resources.

Compute and virtualization services allocate processing power and include the orchestration platforms that oversee AI training and inference workloads. Data and storage services comprise the managed databases and object storage for training datasets, model weights, and inference outputs. Observability and logging services collect the telemetry essential to detecting anomalies and investigating incidents. Identity and access management services control who and what can interact with cloud resources.

Layered on top of these foundational services are AI-specific runtimes and serving frameworks (the managed environments in which models are loaded and scaled) as well as the web and API gateways through which users interact with AI systems. Each of these categories presents distinct vulnerabilities. A flaw in a container escape mechanism raises different remediation questions than a misconfiguration in a logging pipeline, yet both can impact the confidentiality, integrity, and availability of an AI workload.

Fraying public vulnerability infrastructure

The NVD has served for nearly two decades as an authoritative source for enriched vulnerability data, powering compliance frameworks, automated scanning tools, and risk assessments across both the public and private sectors. Budget constraints and rising submission volumes have degraded its reliability as an operational resource. The National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) acknowledged in early 2025 that a 32 percent increase in CVE submissions during 2024 meant the backlog was still growing.

CISA maintains the Known Exploited Vulnerabilities (KEV) catalog, which allows the agency to publicly announce vulnerabilities that have been exploited in the wild. As of March 2026, the catalog contains 1,551 vulnerabilities, making it a useful smaller-scale prioritization signal, especially in comparison to the NVD’s 339,010 vulnerabilities. CISA’s ability to update and maintain the KEV database is likely affected by the ongoing partial shutdown of CISA’s parent agency, the Department of Homeland Security, and the mass layoffs of CISA employees since January 2025.

Meanwhile, despite a clear recommendation from the CSRB’s review of the 2023 Microsoft Exchange incident, cloud providers do not comprehensively disclose security vulnerabilities or flaws within their cloud services that do not require customer action to fix. In 2024, both Microsoft and Google announced that they would issue CVEs for critical vulnerabilities, which are only a subset of the overall vulnerability landscape. Vulnerability scoring and severity evaluations are complex and involve judgement calls, so allowing providers to determine which vulnerabilities they disclose distorts publicly available data on cloud security issues.

Failing to issue a CVE identifier for a security flaw also precludes the vulnerability from being included in the KEV database, limiting the ability of US government agencies to publicly communicate evidence of exploitation. Companies can refuse to acknowledge security incidents or transparently communicate with customers in the absence of policy obligations, as Oracle’s communications around an incident in May 2025 exemplified.

Hyperscale cloud providers operate vulnerability reward programs (VRPs) that incentivize external researchers to report flaws. According to a program website, Google’s Cloud VRP has issued $3,574,399 in awards over the past year. These programs are voluntary, variable in scope and payout, depend on the communications channels offered by the cloud provider, and are not subject to public reporting obligations.

Provider programs are siloed. No mechanism exists for identifying shared flaws across cloud platforms or generating a system-wide view of collective vulnerability data. This limitation is consequential considering research demonstrating that independently developed cloud services can harbor similar security flaws due to shared open-source dependencies or common architectural patterns. The absence of cross-provider coordination means that when a researcher identifies a vulnerability pattern in one cloud platform, there is no systematic process for evaluating whether the same pattern exists in others.

AI services are not immune from these systemic challenges. A July 2025 container escape vulnerability in the NVIDIA Container Toolkit, discovered by Wiz researchers, highlighted that security issues in popular libraries impact customers regardless of their cloud provider.

Community-driven projects have attempted to address the lack of standardized tracking mechanism for cloud security issues. The Wiz-backed Open Cloud Vulnerability and Security Issue Database catalogs publicly known cloud vulnerabilities and flaws, providing researchers and practitioners with a centralized reference for flaws that might otherwise be scattered across notification methods. The ONUG Cloud Security Notification Framework addresses the lack of a common data model for security notifications across providers. While these efforts are valuable, neither possesses the institutional backing to compel provider participation or to generate the kind of systematic accounting of vulnerabilities in cloud platforms which could form the basis of further policy action.

AI changes the risk landscape

As a target, AI infrastructure concentrates extraordinarily valuable intellectual property within cloud environments: model weights, proprietary training data, novel research methods, and fine-tuning configurations, all of which are only as secure as the weakest component of their infrastructure. The scarcity of compute resources specific to AI may lead organizations to deprioritize security requirements in favor of rapid access to processing power. The emergence of AI-focused cloud providers, newer entrants that may lack the mature security operations and vulnerability management programs of established hyperscale cloud providers, creates additional points of systemic risk.

As a tool, AI is reshaping the vulnerability landscape on both the offensive and defensive sides, rapidly accelerating the pace of vulnerability discovery and exploit development. Google’s Project Zero reported 20 vulnerabilities in popular open-source packages, each of which was discovered and reproduced by an AI agent without human intervention. A similar collaboration between Mozilla and Anthropic discovered 22 vulnerabilities in Firefox and crafted partial exploits for each of them. Wiz’s first-ever cloud hacking competition surfaced over 11 vulnerabilities in open-source code comprising foundational layers of cloud infrastructure. Open-source maintainers and operators of bug bounty programs have raised alarm about the increasing volume of AI-generated bug reports, which are of varying quality and require significant effort on the part of developers and maintainers to evaluate.

Recommendations

Government agencies must respond to the changing cloud vulnerability landscape. As experts have warned, failing to keep pace with the rapid rate of developments in offensive cyber risks of AI will have security consequences. Managing the risks posed by AI for vulnerability discovery and exploitation requires recommitting to known best practices, which can serve as a foundation for future policy experimentation and adaptation.

1. Follow through on lapsed and languishing cybersecurity efforts

Congress should reauthorize the Cybersecurity Information Sharing Act of 2015, which remains the foundational legal framework enabling voluntary cyber threat intelligence sharing between the private sector and federal government. Temporary extensions do not provide sufficient assurance and protection to organizations committing to information sharing, and even brief lapses disrupt long-standing collaborations.

Consistent with the AI Action Plan, the federal government should establish a dedicated Artificial Intelligence Information Sharing and Analysis Center (AI-ISAC) to centralize threat intelligence specific to AI systems, model vulnerabilities, and adversarial exploitation techniques. This body could facilitate real-time coordination across industry, academia, and government, led by DHS in collaboration with CAISI and the Office of the National Cyber Director (ONCD).

Congress should ensure CISA and NIST, as the stewards of the KEV catalog and NVD, receive sustained, adequate resourcing to fulfill their role in the vulnerability management ecosystem.

Congress should re-establish the Cyber Safety Review Board, resolving issues with the original board’s investigation by giving the board both subpoena power and sufficient staff to support critical investigations. Congress should also clarify criteria for incidents reviewable by the board. As recent analysis in Lawfare argued, a review board specific to AI could investigate the role of AI in cyberattacks. An AI-specific body should also be scoped to include cloud security incidents, reflecting the cloud’s critical role as AI infrastructure.

2. Incentivize and disclose high-quality public vulnerability data for cloud computing

ONCD should lead on establishing a comprehensive, government-backed information and data sharing solution to drive more effective vulnerability management across the cloud ecosystem. Policy design in cloud cybersecurity suffers from a lack of high-quality public data on critical and non-critical vulnerabilities; patterns of misconfiguration; and trends in exploitation techniques by threat actors.

ONCD’s leadership on this challenge, as a component of the National Cybersecurity Strategy’s goal to shape adversary behavior, could improve collaboration with the private sector and cloud providers, while avoiding diverting CISA from its core mission of protecting government and critical infrastructure systems.

Greater data transparency and disclosure of vulnerabilities across the ecosystem could serve as the foundation of prioritization processes across the cloud ecosystem, increasing pressure on providers to tackle vulnerabilities and classes of vulnerabilities that have security consequences for government entities and companies worldwide. That prioritization should privilege shared vulnerabilities, architectural flaws, and common weaknesses present across multiple hyperscale providers, which no current mechanism systematically or publicly identifies and addresses.

3. Lead on international coordination

The US government should pursue alignment with the European Union Agency for Cybersecurity and allied governments on cloud vulnerability disclosure norms. The US government’s support of vulnerability databases and coordination efforts creates benefits for other countries. Questions about the stability of that support spur divergent efforts, such as the European Union Agency for Cybersecurity establishing its own database for cataloging cyber vulnerabilities.

Ensuring that AI safety institutions and cybersecurity agencies share information and coordinate on vulnerability management, rather than operating in parallel silos, should be an explicit element of efforts to mitigate the risks of emerging AI for cloud computing security. 

The United States and the United Kingdom should begin by harmonizing their own practices and then extend that alignment to the EU. The forthcoming CIRCIA rule and the UK’s Cyber Security and Resilience Bill offer opportunities to embed cloud-specific vulnerability and incident reporting requirements that can serve as reference points for international coordination. Encouraging international allies to adopt the same approach to disclosing vulnerabilities in compute infrastructure can contribute to changing the incentive structure of the AI compute industry, shifting it towards greater transparency from cloud providers.

Conclusion

Trust in cloud computing cannot be sustained without visibility. The physical location of a data center does not determine its vulnerability to misconfigured access controls, unpatched container runtimes, or supply chain compromises. The cloud infrastructure that underpins AI development and deployment is subject to a vulnerability management regime designed for a different era of computing. Cloud-specific security flaws fall between existing institutional mandates, and the organizations building the most consequential AI systems lack the ability to demand transparency from the infrastructure they depend on.

The building blocks for a better approach exist, but the policy architecture to connect them is missing. The United States and its allies and partners possess both the responsibility and the capacity to design an approach to cloud vulnerability management that matches the scale and complexity of the systems it is meant to protect. The question is whether they will do so before the gap between the complexity of cloud infrastructure and the maturity of the institutions overseeing it becomes the defining vulnerability of the AI era.

About the Author

Sara Ann Brackett is an associate director with the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Tech Programs. She focuses her work on open-source software security, cloud computing, and software supply-chain risk management within the Cyber Statecraft Initiative’s cybersecurity and policy portfolio.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank the Cyber Statecraft Initiative and Atlantic Council Tech Programs teams for their support and guidance throughout this project. Thank you to Trey Herr and Tess deBlanc-Knowles, who provided thoughtful feedback, and to Safa Shahwan Edwards and Jen Roberts, who were instrumental in planning and executing a workshop that informed this paper. Thank you to Nikita Shah, whose feedback shaped earlier iterations of this brief and its accompanying visualizations. The author would also like to thank the workshop participants who shared their expertise and perspectives under Chatham House Rule.

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The Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Technology Programs, works at the nexus of geopolitics and cybersecurity to craft strategies to help shape the conduct of statecraft and to better inform and secure users of technology.

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How the Dominican Republic can escape the ‘middle-income trap’ https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/how-the-dominican-republic-can-escape-the-middle-income-trap/ Mon, 30 Mar 2026 16:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=915357 Over three decades, the Dominican Republic has consolidated stable electoral competition and built a diversified, open economy delivering the fastest GDP growth in Latin America. To escape the middle-income trap, the country must now confront deferred structural reforms—especially in education, institutional effectiveness, and fiscal capacity—turning stability into sustained convergence.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Over the past three decades, the Dominican Republic has consolidated stable electoral competition and durable institutions, in a region often marked by volatility and democratic backsliding.
  • Institutional continuity enabled the transition from an agrarian base to a diversified, open economy that has delivered sustained growth, rapid income convergence, and resilience.
  • To escape the middle-income trap, the Dominican Republic must now confront deferred structural reforms—especially in education, institutional effectiveness, and fiscal capacity.

This is the tenth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

The Dominican Republic’s recent political history is defined less by rupture than by consolidation. By the mid-1990s, the country had already resolved the most consequential question of its institutional life: how political power is contested and transferred. Since the decisive elections of 1996, Dominican politics has been characterized by regular, competitive elections, peaceful alternation in power, and the absence of constitutional ruptures or electoral breakdowns. Governments have come and gone, and parties have risen and declined, but the basic rules of the game have remained intact.

In a regional context marked by institutional volatility—coups, impeachments, constitutional rewrites, and contested elections—this continuity stands out. The Dominican Republic institutionalized electoral competition early and maintained it across political cycles—including long periods of single-party dominance—without sliding into electoral authoritarianism. The result has been more than procedural stability. Over time, this durability has produced cumulative institutional returns: greater predictability for investors, incremental strengthening of legal frameworks, and an environment in which political dissatisfaction is resolved through elections rather than systemic crisis. For three decades, this steadiness has underpinned one of the strongest growth performances in Latin America. The Freedom Index captures this trajectory, showing sustained gains from 1995 onward and further consolidation after 2020.

This pattern is most visible in the political dimension, which provides the clearest entry point into the country’s broader institutional evolution. The Dominican Republic’s democratic transition was prolonged and uneven, beginning with the assassination of dictator Rafael Leonidas Trujillo in 1961 and unfolding through cycles of hope and reversal—including a coup, civil war, US intervention, and decades of semi-competitive elections under Joaquín Balaguer. The decisive consolidation came in 1996, when competitive elections finally became the uncontested mechanism for political power. This continuity is reflected in the consistently high level of the elections component of the political subindex over the entire period.

What is particularly notable is that even prolonged periods of single-party dominance did not translate into electoral authoritarianism. Between 2004 and 2020, when the Dominican Liberation Party governed for sixteen consecutive years, concerns arose about institutional sclerosis, clientelism, and attempts to alter constitutional term limits. The suspension of the February 2020 municipal elections following failures in a new electronic voting system further exposed procedural weaknesses and eroded public trust. Yet constitutional boundaries ultimately held, the electoral framework was restored, and power transferred peacefully to the opposition later that year.

The evolution of political rights over the past two decades reflects a more nuanced reality. From roughly 2010 to 2020, the political rights component shows a gradual decline. This movement does not suggest a drift toward authoritarianism, but rather the accumulated effects of prolonged incumbency. Media outlets became increasingly entangled with government advertising, patronage networks expanded, and civil society grew more skeptical of the political class. These tensions culminated in the large “Marcha Verde” protest movements that began in 2017 and persisted until the 2020 elections, demanding an end to corruption and impunity. Rather than weakening democracy, these mobilizations ultimately reinforced it by channeling discontent through institutional means and contributing to a legitimate transfer of power.

The rebound in political rights after 2020 appears to reflect shifts in political tone and enforcement patterns more than sweeping institutional reform. The arrival of the Luis Abinader administration brought a clearer rhetorical commitment to transparency and accountability, reduced pressure on critical media, and signaled greater tolerance for scrutiny, contributing to improved perceptions of political openness. Civic space widened, even if the formal legal framework governing political rights remained largely unchanged.

Civil liberties, by contrast, have remained relatively stable and high throughout the period. The country did not experience the sharp pandemic-related declines seen in many advanced democracies, particularly with respect to restrictions on movement or assembly. This stability reinforces the broader picture of an open political system that, despite its imperfections, has avoided the authoritarian and electoral backsliding observed elsewhere in the region.

The most puzzling feature of the political subindex is the persistently low score on legislative constraints on the executive, a pattern that in the Dominican case reflects institutional design rather than weak democratic competition. The country operates under a robust presidential system, and the 2010 constitutional reforms aligned legislative and presidential elections on the same electoral calendar. As a result, the party that wins the presidency almost invariably controls Congress as well, reducing incentives for legislative oversight. The limited professionalization of the legislature compounds this structural feature.

However, this does not mean that the executive operates without constraints. In practice, civil society organizations, business associations, trade unions, and protest movements play a decisive role in shaping and blocking legislation. A clear example was President Luis Abinader’s withdrawal of an ambitious fiscal reform proposal in 2021 after strong opposition from business groups and civil society. Similar dynamics have constrained reform efforts in areas such as education, transportation, and labor markets. The low legislative constraint score therefore reflects a misalignment between formal institutional checks and the informal, societal forces that operate in the Dominican political system.


Governments of different political orientations have combined pro-market and social welfare objectives in varying proportions, reducing the likelihood of sharp policy reversals.

The economic subindex reinforces the broader picture of institutional continuity that characterizes the Dominican Republic’s experience since the mid-1990s. Rather than reflecting abrupt policy shifts or ideological swings, the data point to a gradual and largely uneventful expansion of economic freedom, aligned with a stable political environment. One reason for this continuity lies in the country’s distinctive political economy: Across party lines, there has been broad consensus around openness to trade and foreign investment, while redistributive policies have not been the exclusive domain of the left. In practice, governments of different political orientations have combined pro-market and social welfare objectives in varying proportions, reducing the likelihood of sharp policy reversals. Over the same period, the country completed a structural transition from an agriculture-centered economy to a highly diversified one in which tourism, manufacturing, mining, construction, and services contribute in comparable proportions to GDP, strengthening resilience to external shocks. As a result, changes in economic policy have tended to be incremental, allowing the Dominican Republic to maintain a consistently business-friendly framework while adjusting gradually to social and fiscal pressures.

Trade freedom has been among the most stable components throughout the period. The country adopted an outward-looking growth model early on, anchored in tourism, free trade zones, and export-oriented manufacturing. This openness has proven resilient to changes in government and political cycles. Across party lines, successive administrations have actively pursued and ratified trade agreements with regional blocs and major economies, reinforcing a broad political consensus in favor of international economic integration. As such, trade policy has not been subject to abrupt reversals.

Investment freedom follows a similarly stable, though slightly more uneven, path. The Dominican Republic has long been perceived as relatively business-friendly within the regional context. Periodic fluctuations in this component appear to capture moments of regulatory or fiscal uncertainty rather than shifts toward state intervention or capital controls.

Property rights show gradual improvement but remain an area where institutional limitations are most visible. While large investors tend to operate within a relatively predictable legal environment, smaller firms and households continue to face slower judicial processes and administrative bottlenecks. This uneven protection of property rights contributes to the persistence of informality and limits the diffusion of economic freedom across the broader economy.

Women’s economic freedom registers a clear upward trend over the past three decades, reflecting the steady removal of formal legal barriers to women’s participation in economic life. This formal progress has coincided with increased visibility of women in both political and business leadership, including sustained cross-partisan representation at the vice-presidential level. As in many middle-income countries, improvements in formal equality coexist with persistent gaps in labor market outcomes, suggesting that social norms and institutional rigidities continue to constrain full convergence.

The sharp improvement in legal indicators subindex after 2020 aligns closely with a combination of legal reform and changes in prosecutorial practice. On the legislative side, reforms to the penal code helped modernize the criminal justice framework, clarify legal definitions, and strengthen sanctions for corruption-related offenses, contributing to greater clarity of the law and procedural coherence. At the same time, the appointment of an unusually independent attorney general marked a clear departure from past patterns in the enforcement of those laws. For the first time in decades, high-profile corruption cases were brought not only against figures associated with previous administrations, but also against politicians and officials linked to the governing coalition. Investigations involving senior legislators, mayors, and politically connected actors sent a strong signal that prosecutorial discretion was no longer being exercised along partisan lines, and this shift had an immediate effect on perceptions of judicial independence and effectiveness, as reflected in the legal subindex. However, the conversion of investigations into final convictions has been slower and more uneven, reflecting judicial inertia and inherited procedural constraints. This underscores that prosecutorial autonomy does not necessarily amount to systemic judicial transformation.

At the same time, this episode raises an important institutional question. The recent strengthening of the rule of law appears to rest heavily on the personal credibility and independence of the prosecutor, rather than on a fully consolidated system of judicial autonomy. Whether these gains can be normalized—embedded in procedures, safeguards, and professional norms that outlast individual officeholders—remains to be seen. Taken together, the evolution of freedom in the Dominican Republic shows an institutional trajectory shaped by steadiness rather than spectacle. Political competition has remained credible over time, legal institutions have strengthened without abrupt breaks, and economic rules have evolved through adjustment rather than ideological swings. This pattern stands in contrast to much of the region, where institutional change has often been driven by sharp turns, constitutional resets, and recurrent political crises. In the Dominican case, stability has carried weight. It has allowed investment decisions to be taken without persistent institutional uncertainty and has given economic activity room to expand without the disruptions associated with repeated policy reversals. Social demands, in turn, have tended to find expression through elections, courts, and public debate rather than through systemic crisis. The payoff from this understated but resilient institutional framework becomes clearer when attention shifts from rules to results. The following section examines how this steady expansion of freedom has translated into sustained improvements in income, health, education, and overall standards of living.

From freedom to prosperity

The Dominican Republic’s experience over the past three decades suggests that institutional stability, while rarely dramatic, can be economically productive. The country has recorded the fastest GDP growth in Latin America in the last half-century, averaging approximately 5 percent annually—well above the regional average of 3.2 percent. This performance has translated into the fastest income convergence with the United States of any major Latin American economy: From one of the poorest countries in the hemisphere in the 1960s, the Dominican Republic now has a standard of living roughly one-third that of the United States, compared to one-quarter for the region as a whole. This remarkable performance reflects the cumulative effect of a predictable institutional environment in which economic activity could expand over time rather than being repeatedly disrupted. The Prosperity Index captures this payoff, showing steady improvements in income and basic social indicators since the mid-1990s.

The [Dominican Republic] has recorded the fastest GDP growth in Latin America in the last half-century, averaging approximately 5 percent annually.

Rather than relying on a single engine of expansion, the Dominican Republic has built a diversified growth model that has evolved gradually over time. Economic activity has been rooted in a combination of tourism, free trade zones, mining, construction, and services, with each sector playing a stabilizing role at different phases of the cycle. Tourism has provided a steady source of foreign exchange, while export-oriented manufacturing in free trade zones has integrated the country into global value chains, especially in medical devices and electronics. Gold mining—anchored by Pueblo Viejo, Latin America’s largest gold mine—has emerged as the country’s leading export and proved especially valuable during the pandemic when mineral revenues helped offset the collapse in tourism. Construction and related services have supported domestic demand, partly reflecting sustained population growth and urbanization. This diversification has reduced exposure to commodity price volatility and limited the risk of abrupt downturns, distinguishing the Dominican Republic from many regional peers whose growth paths have been more narrowly concentrated.

The United States occupies a central place in the Dominican Republic’s external economic relations, but it does so within a relatively diversified trade structure. Geographic proximity, preferential trade arrangements under DR-CAFTA, and long-standing commercial ties have made the United States the country’s most important single trading partner. The relationship cuts in both directions: The Dominican Republic exports free trade zone manufactures and traditional agricultural commodities—tobacco, sugar, cocoa, coffee—while importing energy, machinery, and consumer goods from the United States. This two-way integration has provided a stable demand anchor and supported export-oriented sectors from traditional agriculture to modern manufacturing, with growing nearshoring opportunities. At the same time, the Dominican Republic has avoided excessive concentration on a single market. Trade links with Europe, the Caribbean, and Latin America have expanded over time, and tourism revenues draw on a broad set of source countries. This diversification has reduced vulnerability to shocks originating in any one economy, allowing the country to benefit from deep integration with the United States while maintaining a degree of external balance.

Education presents a more ambivalent picture. The Dominican Republic made a highly visible and politically salient commitment to education funding during the 2010s, following sustained social pressure to comply with constitutional spending mandates. Public investment expanded rapidly, leading to clear improvements in access, school infrastructure, and enrollment. These efforts marked an important shift in public priorities and are reflected in gradual gains in educational attainment indicators captured by the Prosperity Index.

However, improvements in educational quality have lagged far behind the scale of financial effort. Learning outcomes remain weak by international standards, as reflected in the Dominican Republic’s consistently low performance in the Programme for International Student Assessment, where students score well below the OECD and Latin American averages in reading, mathematics, and science. This gap points to institutional constraints rather than a lack of resources. Rigidities in the public education system—particularly regarding teacher evaluation, incentives, and accountability—have proven difficult to overcome. Opposition to reforms aimed at improving performance has often succeeded in preserving existing arrangements that disproportionately benefit a relatively protected group of workers, while limiting gains in system-wide quality and student outcomes. As a result, education has yet to play the role in productivity growth and social mobility that is required for sustained income convergence.

Health outcomes have followed a more linear trajectory. Life expectancy has increased steadily over the period, reflecting income growth, expanded access to basic healthcare, and incremental improvements in coverage. The Dominican Republic did not undertake a radical overhaul of its healthcare system, but rather expanded it gradually, with uneven quality but broad reach. These gains are consistent with the country’s level of development and contribute meaningfully to improvements in overall well-being, even as efficiency and quality challenges persist.

Inequality has improved markedly over the past decade. The Prosperity Index shows a substantial reduction in income inequality since around 2010, with the inequality component increasing by roughly twenty-five points, placing the Dominican Republic among the stronger performers in the region on this dimension. This improvement reflects a combination of sustained economic growth, rising employment, and gradual formalization, which together helped lift incomes at the lower end of the distribution. Unlike in many neighboring countries, these gains were achieved without the boom-and-bust cycles that tend to reverse distributional progress.

At the same time, the decline in measured inequality masks emerging forms of segmentation that could become more consequential over time. High levels of informality continue to limit upward mobility for a large share of workers, constraining access to stable income trajectories and social protection. While overall income dispersion has narrowed, disparities in job quality and long-term opportunity persist. The Dominican Republic’s experience illustrates that inequality can fall meaningfully even as structural dualities remain entrenched—a pattern consistent with a growth model that has been inclusive in aggregate terms but uneven in how opportunities are distributed across the labor force.

These distributional patterns also shape how migration from Haiti features in the prosperity debate. The issue is deeply polarizing, and this polarization has produced policy incoherence rather than resolution. The 2013 Constitutional Court ruling (TC 168-13) held that tens of thousands of Dominican-born individuals of Haitian descent had never been entitled to citizenship—a decision that drew accusations of creating statelessness from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights.  Subsequent regularization efforts reached only a fraction of the affected population, constrained not only by domestic political backlash but also by Haiti’s limited administrative capacity and inability to provide basic civil documentation for many affected individuals. Meanwhile, mass deportations coexist with the massive use of undocumented labor in construction, agriculture, and services, while Haitian migrants and their descendants represent a substantial share of public spending on schooling and healthcare. The result is neither exclusion nor integration but an intractable ambiguity: pervasive informality, legal precarity, and administrative inconsistency that entrenches inequality even as aggregate indicators improve.

The more consequential challenge lies in the longer-term implications of informal integration. When access to services, education, and employment relies on ad hoc arrangements rather than clear institutional pathways, the risk is not immediate marginalization but gradual stratification. Over time, this can translate into persistent differences in educational trajectories, job quality, and social mobility, even without explicit barriers or discriminatory intent. Haitian migration, therefore, does not currently undermine prosperity outcomes, but it does test the capacity of Dominican institutions to transform informal inclusion into sustainable integration and to prevent new forms of segmentation from emerging alongside otherwise improving inequality indicators.

The path forward

The Dominican Republic approaches the coming years from a comparatively favorable position within Latin America. Democratic norms are consolidated, institutional performance has improved incrementally, and prosperity gains have accumulated without major reversals. The central question ahead is therefore not one of stability, but of trajectory. The challenge is whether the country can move beyond a successful middle-income equilibrium and sustain the kind of productivity gains required to converge toward high-income status.

The central question ahead is therefore not one of stability, but of trajectory.

Externally, the Dominican Republic is unusually well positioned, particularly in its relationship with the United States. Close economic, political, and security ties have long defined the country’s development path, and recent shifts in US trade and industrial policy have, in principle, reinforced this advantage rather than undermined it. Even amid more protectionist rhetoric and policy experimentation in Washington, the Dominican Republic has remained a trusted partner, benefiting from geographic proximity, established supply chains, and a reputation for macroeconomic and political reliability. Yet this favorable positioning has not always translated into concrete gains at the scale one might expect. A telling example is the presence of a US International Development Finance Corporation office in the country, which was initially seen as an opportunity to channel investment and support strategic projects but has so far had very limited activity. This gap highlights a broader risk: Close alignment with the United States creates opportunities, but capturing them requires domestic institutional capacity, project readiness, and strategic coordination. Without these, proximity and trust alone may result in underused potential rather than accelerated convergence.

This places the question of the middle-income trap at the center of the country’s outlook. The Dominican Republic has already captured most of the gains associated with macroeconomic stability, openness, and sectoral diversification. What lies ahead is a more demanding transition toward productivity-driven growth. The risk is not a return to instability or crisis, but a gradual settling into growth rates that are sufficient to sustain middle-income status yet insufficient to achieve convergence with advanced economies. Persistently low educational quality, high informality, limited innovation capacity, and weak spillovers from export sectors continue to constrain productivity. Escaping the middle-income trap will depend on transforming these underlying drivers through improvements in learning outcomes, technical training, and innovation capacity to enable diversification toward higher-value sectors.

Institutionally, recent improvements in the rule of law and anti-corruption enforcement have strengthened public trust and international credibility. However, the durability of these gains remains an open question. Much of the progress since 2020 has relied on leadership choices and informal norms rather than on fully entrenched institutional safeguards. Whether judicial independence, prosecutorial autonomy, and legal clarity can be preserved across political cycles will be a key determinant of future performance. Moreover, prosecution is not the same as prevention, and high-profile cases have demonstrated that corrupt practices persist even under the credible threat of enforcement. A partial rollback would not necessarily trigger immediate instability, but it would weaken the institutional foundations required for higher-quality growth and more complex economic activity, while leaving underlying vulnerabilities in procurement, asset disclosure, and political finance unaddressed.

Regionally, instability represents a more immediate and less controllable risk. The situation in Haiti has deteriorated to an unprecedented degree: Since the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021, gangs—some designated as terrorist organizations—have seized control of an estimated 90 percent of Port-au-Prince, while state institutions have effectively ceased to function. The violence has displaced over one million people and caused tens of thousands of deaths since 2018. This is not cyclical instability but a qualitatively different breakdown. Persistent institutional collapse and humanitarian distress across the border generate security concerns, fiscal pressures, and diplomatic constraints that the Dominican Republic cannot fully manage on its own. While the country has so far absorbed these pressures without major disruption, prolonged instability in Haiti could increasingly test its administrative capacity, border management, and social cohesion, particularly if international engagement remains insufficient.

A related risk stems from the very factors that have underpinned the Dominican Republic’s success. Relative political stability, improving infrastructure, and deep integration into international trade networks also make the country an attractive transit and logistics hub for illicit activities, particularly drug trafficking and associated financial flows. As enforcement pressures shift across the region, there is concern that criminal networks could seek to exploit the Dominican Republic’s ports, transportation systems, and financial channels. This risk does not reflect institutional failure—in fact, the country has achieved record drug interdictions in recent years—but exposure created by openness and connectivity. If not handled carefully, these dynamics could strain security institutions, distort local economies, and erode public trust, undermining some of the institutional gains achieved in recent years.

Finally, the political economy of reform will remain decisive. The Dominican political system continues to combine a strong presidency with a relatively weak legislature and a vibrant civil society capable of constraining government action. As earlier sections have shown, this configuration has been effective at preventing democratic backsliding and forcing accountability, but it has also made structural reform difficult. This tension is particularly evident in the fiscal sphere. A narrow tax base and extensive exemptions limit the state’s capacity to finance higher-quality public services and consistent public policy execution, as well as to strengthen social protection and further reduce structural inequalities. As a result, the government has increasingly turned to debt: Interest payments alone now approach 4 percent of GDP, and debt service consumes 25 to 30 percent of the state budget, crowding out productive public investment. Meanwhile, intractable problems persist—most notably electricity subsidies required to cover distribution losses—that continue to drain fiscal resources. The result is a budget squeezed between debt obligations, unproductive subsidies, and inadequate investment in human capital and infrastructure.

Whether leaders are prepared to make difficult and politically costly decisions—rather than merely avoiding destabilizing ones—will determine whether the next half-century is defined by incremental continuity or genuine transformation.

Without fiscal reform, efforts to improve education, infrastructure, and social protection will remain constrained, even as parts of the economy continue to advance. The risk is that inequality, which has declined in aggregate, could begin to rise again in more structural forms, producing a segmented society marked by pockets of high prosperity and opportunity alongside regions and communities that remain disconnected from growth. Whether the political system can move from preserving stability to actively reforming itself—making choices that broaden the tax base and strengthen state capacity—will determine whether the country can convert steady momentum into sustained development. In sum, sudden crises or dramatic reversals are unlikely to define the Dominican Republic’s future. Its prospects hinge instead on whether it can leverage its favorable external position, preserve recent institutional gains, and overcome domestic constraints that limit productivity, human capital formation, and social integration. Stability has served the country well. The challenge now is to turn that stability into sustained convergence—by moving beyond a political culture of indefinite deferral that has allowed structural problems to persist even as the economy expanded. Whether leaders are prepared to make difficult and politically costly decisions—rather than merely avoiding destabilizing ones—will determine whether the next half-century is defined by incremental continuity or genuine transformation.

about the author

Marino Auffant is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. He is a historian and geopolitical strategist whose work examines global macro trends, great-power competition, and economic statecraft. Based in Washington, D.C., he advises public- and private-sector leaders on structural competitiveness, supply-chain strategy, and industrial policy, with a particular focus on strategic dynamics in the Western Hemisphere and US–Dominican Republic relations. His research and advisory work spans energy markets and semiconductor nearshoring strategy. He holds a PhD in history from Harvard University.

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Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

2025 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists, scholars, and diplomats analyze the state of freedom and prosperity in eighteen countries around the world, looking back not only on a consequential year but across twenty-nine years of data on markets, rights, and the rule of law.

2024 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists and government officials from eighteen countries contributed to this comprehensive volume, which serves as a roadmap for navigating the complexities of contemporary governance. 

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The Freedom and Prosperity Center aims to increase the prosperity of the poor and marginalized in developing countries and to explore the nature of the relationship between freedom and prosperity in both developing and developed nations.

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How the West lost the post-Cold War era https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/how-the-west-lost-the-post-cold-war-era/ Mon, 30 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=914881 The latest Atlantic Council Eurasia Center report examines the lessons from the post-Cold War period and what the United States and its allies can do to counter Russian revanchism today.

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Three decades ago, the West seemed unassailable. The Soviet Union had collapsed and for the third time in the twentieth century, the United States and its allies had emerged victorious in a global struggle against an authoritarian foe—and for the first time in generations, Western liberal democracy did not have an ideological or geopolitical adversary. It was a giddy moment when anything and everything seemed possible.

Today, that heady optimism feels like a distant dream. Thirty years after the Soviet empire ended, Russia launched its invasion of Ukraine, the largest land war in Europe since World War II. The liberal democratic model of governance that appeared so triumphant and invincible three decades ago is today beleaguered and on the defensive as populism, xenophobia, and authoritarian attitudes sweep Europe and North America. ​​The world today seems as dangerous, if not more so, than during the long twilight struggle of the Cold War.

So what happened? How did we fall from the heady optimism of 1992 to the peril, malaise, and danger of today? What lessons can we learn from the post-Cold War period? Shortly before the outbreak of World War II, the British historian E. H. Carr published his seminal book The Twenty Years Crisis: 1919-1939, which examined the lessons of the interwar period. Carr argued that this era was a crisis of the international system, resulting from the failure of the old liberal order to adapt to and understand new and emergent political, economic, and military realities.

​​This report argues that a similar dynamic played out in the contemporary West in our own thirty-year crisis between the end of the Cold War and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The liberal order failed. But how? And why? The author interviewed dozens of policymakers, analysts, and experts in Europe and North America to distill the lessons of the post-Cold War era.

Read the full report

About the author

Brian Whitmore is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Eurasia Center and assistant professor of practice at the University of Texas-Arlington.

He is also the founder and author of the Power Vertical Blog and host of the Power Vertical Podcast, both of which focus on Russian affairs. Whitmore was previously a senior fellow at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA) from 2018 to 2020 and senior Russia analyst for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) from 2007 to 2017. Prior to joining RFE/RL, Whitmore worked as a foreign correspondent for the Boston Globe in Moscow and Prague.

He also worked as a graduate lecturer with the Department of Government and International Studies at the University of South Carolina as a visiting lecturer with the History Faculty at Mechnikov National University in Odesa, Ukraine, and the International Relations Faculty at St. Petersburg State University in Russia.

His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Atlantic, the New RepublicForeign PolicyWorld Politics ReviewNewsweek, and elsewhere. He has appeared as a guest commentator on CNN, the BBC World Service, NPR, Bloomberg, and various other media.

A native of New Haven, Connecticut, Whitmore earned an MA in political science from Villanova University in 1987 and BA in politics from St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia in 1986.

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How NATO can integrate AI to prevail in future algorithmic warfare https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/how-nato-can-integrate-ai-to-prevail-in-future-algorithmic-warfare/ Mon, 30 Mar 2026 09:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=903883 NATO’s competitive edge in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies will come from treating AI as a general-purpose enabler embedded across the Alliance’s digital backbone. Military AI does not generate new risks but creates more room for human error and miscalculation. Accidents and inadvertent escalation thus become more likely as military systems bring in more AI components.

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Bottom lines up front

  • NATO’s competitive edge in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies will come from purposeful integration of AI technologies across the Alliance’s digital backbone.
  • Military AI does not generate new vulnerabilities in kind, but it creates more room for human error and miscalculation.
  • Victory in algorithmic warfare requires electromagnetic spectrum dominance.

Table of contents

Executive summary

Military artificial intelligence (AI) is moving from the margins of experimentation into the core of how NATO will fight, make critical decisions, and deter competitors over the next decade. The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept identifies the technological edge to be critical for the Alliance to fulfil its core tasks. Both contemporary warfare and renewed strategic competition suggest that data-driven AI decision-support systems and autonomous battlefield capabilities augmented with AI will define the character of future conflicts. There is a justified focus on evaluating strategic risks associated with such systems.

This report argues that integrating AI into military systems does not generate vulnerabilities that are fundamentally new in kind compared to existing cyber risks. But the difference lies in consequences. Once AI-enabled decision-support systems and autonomous platforms become critical to Alliance operations, interference with data, models, and computing infrastructure may have implications for NATO’s ability to see, decide, and act under pressure. Similarly, the offensive use of AI-enabled capabilities does not, on its own, raise or lower the nuclear threshold. Escalation thresholds in algorithmic warfare will continue to be driven by effects on the ground rather than by whether a system is AI-enabled. Yet the characteristics of AI—the speed, system opacity, and physical infrastructure—create more room for human error, misperception, and miscalculation.

To explore such possibilities, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, in partnership with the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist, conducted a foresight study to clarify how adversaries might counter AI-enabled capabilities and to examine what this means for NATO doctrine, strategy, and deterrence. The research combined horizon scanning and expert interviews, an off-the-record workshop held in Washington, under Chatham House rules, and scenario modeling. The project mapped AI technology trends across decision-support systems and autonomous platforms, identified likely AI vulnerabilities and vectors of attack, and explored escalation dynamics through structured discussion and scenario-based exercises.

This project brought a new perspective into the debate on the impacts of transformative military AI on future warfare for two reasons. First, it is innovative in its comprehensive scope that encompasses both physical and cyber dimensions of algorithmic warfare. Indeed, it foregrounds the AI triad of data, algorithms, and computing power and shows how each can be attacked through cyber, kinetic, and electromagnetic (EM) means. And second, it examines the intersection of AI and nuclear weapons from a different angle: Tailored nuclear weapons are treated as a potential countermeasure against military AI for their electromagnetic pulse (EMP) effects.

There are two key findings.

While military AI does not generate “shock and awe” in and of itself, AI can exacerbate existing risk conditions for accidents and inadvertent escalations.

The report finds that the employment of military AI does not make the use of tailored nuclear weapons more likely. Instead, the choice of target, physical damage, and casualties are what matter. Workshop participants ranked responses to a notional AI-enabled drone saturation attack in the Baltic region by their perceived escalatory potential. Diplomatic action and electronic warfare were the most preferred responses, followed by kinetic strikes, cyber operations, and directed-energy weapons (DEW). Tailored nuclear EMP attacks were viewed as highly escalatory and politically unacceptable for NATO to use to repel an attack over NATO territory, even when framed as a tool of “information warfare.”

At the same time, military AI is expected to make the difference in terms of increasing speed, autonomy, scale, and uncertainty. This research, however, revealed that in comparison with all three components of the AI triad, the human remains the most vulnerable element of AI. Humans are routinely exposed to phishing, social engineering, cognitive bias, and already run the risk of deskilling as more tasks are delegated to machines.

Integrating AI into military operations therefore creates dangers along two pathways. First, speed and data are working against their user. Such compressed timelines can create cognitive problems in decision-making. Without safety and quality protocols in place, flooding decision-support systems with noisy or nonpatternable data can further thicken the fog of war for commanders. Second, AI-enabled military systems become increasingly complex and can lead to normal accidents, making foreign interference detection and exposure difficult to distinguish from system failures.

Algorithmic warfare highlights the importance of electromagnetic spectrum dominance.

Digital modernization of defense—the data-centric approach and software-defined capabilities—will make electromagnetic threats more salient. Russia’s war in Ukraine already highlights how GPS jamming, communications blackouts, and electronic warfare shape combat operations. This trend will intensify as NATO begins to lean on AI-enabled and multidomain command and control.

Advances in military applications of AI further strengthen the convergence between the cyber domain of operations (digital code) and the electromagnetic environment (electrons). In a crowded and contested spectrum, where software-defined radios, commercial satellites, and cloud-linked data centers underpin military networks, the distinction between “cyber” and “conventional” attack begins to blur. Further fielding of directed-energy weapons also indicates shifting the center of gravity to energy supplies.

Attacks on AI systems can use several vectors. The adversary can target model weights through espionage and hacking; poison training datasets; blind or spoof sensors on intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) platforms; disable data relays; or physically damage hardware in data centers, cables, satellites, or uncrewed systems. Cyber operators, electronic warfare units, special forces, and conventional reconnaissance-strike systems may all participate in degrading AI-enabled capabilities. In contrast, the ongoing trend of lowering the cost of warfare will make any requirements for new protection measures, such as shielding or hardening, difficult to implement due to the trade-offs in terms of cost, weight, and endurance.

The report develops three future scenarios, including a fourth baseline case, to identify likely implications of future algorithmic warfare for NATO’s doctrine and strategy: guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report.

  • Guarded opportunism outlines a future in which military AI, despite its transformative impacts, does not require the military to dramatically alter the rules of engagement. Instead of introducing qualitatively new risks or vulnerabilities, the challenges related to military AI remain manageable with disciplined cyber hygiene and resilient power supply. On the risk side, this scenario points to heightened dangers of AI-fueled hybrid warfare below the threshold of armed conflict.
  • Brave new world is a less likely but more dangerous scenario detailing the conditions for escalation spirals. Transformative effects of AI lead to conventionalizing nuclear weapons. Fielding of AI-enabled military capabilities provokes the adversary to use new nuclear-powered EM weapons. Nuclear EMP attacks are viewed as a legitimate use of nuclear weapons that belong to the specter of algorithmic warfare.
  • Minority report presents a different take on the possible algorithmic future in which AI technology hype drives strategy. This scenario focuses on cognitive challenges for political and military decision-makers, who tend to overestimate near‑term benefits and discount the long-term risks and compound challenges of AI integration. Instead of improving AI operational implementation processes, countries race to achieve phantom AI advantages that destabilize the international security environment.

For NATO to leverage and maintain the advantage from transformative AI technologies, this report makes seven recommendations for NATO leaders that can contribute to NATO’s future strategy and doctrine adaptation.

  1. Master AI literacy. NATO needs to develop standards for continuous AI skill development for commanders, operators, and policymakers. AI literacy is not just a strategic competency but also an instrument of restraint.
  2. Engineer redundancy. Instead of creating a digital copy of all existing procedures, NATO should prioritize maintaining the ability to transmit information on rehearsed secondary systems.
  3. Coordinate approach to AI tech industry. NATO should develop a code of conduct for AI tech company engagements that addresses the formation of an exclusive suppliers’ group, the knowledge gap in the private sector, and the rules for civilian software engineers in war zones.
  4. Maintain information dominance. NATO should develop a functional framework for operationalizing AI in support of algorithmic warfare that prioritizes military objectives over abstract benchmarks and diversify its early warning systems.
  5. Clarify escalation thresholds. NATO should develop a shared understanding of escalation thresholds for algorithmic warfare, decide on response triggers, and predelegate command authority in time-compressed scenarios to avoid escalation risks and decision paralysis.
  6. Assess the electromagnetic layer with accuracy. Future algorithmic warfare will require NATO to treat electromagnetic spectrum operations as a distinct layer of multidomain operations to protect its strategic initiative and command-and-control superiority. NATO should also update its standards to reflect the changing scope of critical infrastructure as AI becomes a strategic asset to avoid underestimating the EM layer.
  7. Deter by ambiguity. NATO should project resilience while cloaking its sensitive AI assets in a black box unexplainable by adversaries. However, such deterrence by ambiguity should not erode internal accountability of NATO-run AI systems.

Introduction

The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept emphasizes the importance of the Alliance maintaining its technological edge to achieve mission success.1 But NATO’s ability to ensure military effectiveness and uphold a credible deterrence and defense posture faces challenges in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies. In the context of rapidly evolving warfare tactics and renewed strategic competition, AI-powered decision-support systems (DSS) and autonomous battlefield capabilities are expected to shape future conflicts. NATO’s 2022 Digital Transformation Vision therefore intended to accelerate the adoption of data and AI analytics to unlock new advantages for the Alliance.2

Accordingly, NATO’s AI Strategy encourages strategic foresight activities to help allies achieve a reasonable level of AI readiness.3 It also focuses on anticipating new challenges and risks related to algorithmic warfare from adversarial use of AI. While the military potential of AI is versatile and uncertain, it has nonetheless become difficult to overlook its importance to strategic competition. Countries are racing to develop and deploy AI across their civilian economies and militaries. Russia, the most significant and direct threat to NATO allies, and the People’s Republic of China, a strategic competitor seeking to control key technologies, have widely communicated their intentions to field AI for military purposes.4

Research objective

The Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, in partnership with the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist, has conducted a foresight study addressing this crucial topic. This effort seeks to gain more clarity on AI’s transformative military effects over the next decade. This report assesses the vulnerabilities entailed in AI integration into NATO military capabilities in the context of the digital transformation of defense and the growing importance of electromagnetic spectrum operations. Importantly, it identifies ways in which adversaries might counter future AI-enabled capabilities on and off the battlefield. The objective is thus to understand how these developments may affect NATO’s doctrine and strategy moving forward.

This report’s focus on the transformative effects of military AI is highly relevant given NATO’s ambition to conduct multidomain operations.5 As outlined in the Digital Transformation Implementation Strategy, NATO political and military leaders intend to use advanced analytics in combination with multimodal data from sensor networks for a consolidated multidomain situational awareness in real time.6 While the “digital backbone” is intended to enable command and control across all domains, a broader digital interoperability framework with a secured data-sharing ecosystem will enhance political consultation and decision-making processes.  

This report therefore seeks to address the complex question of the likely implications of future military AI countermeasures on NATO’s doctrine and strategy. This means identifying the risks from integrating transformative AI into military systems, examining the vulnerabilities the adoption of AI will create, assessing the severity and probability of corresponding adversarial attacks, and formulating recommendations. Importantly, to limit the dangers of technological determinism, this project examined how political and military leaders and policy planners (at the state level of decision-making) perceive new technologies appearing on the battlefield and craft their responses to escalate or not.7

Methodology

In terms of methodology, this report used several data collection and analysis tools. The first phase of the project consisted of horizon scanning and road mapping. Through a structured evidence-gathering process based on desk research of relevant open-source documents and background expert interviews, this report identified the most important drivers of change, as well as the likely future developments at the intersection of AI and the defense sector that are at the margins of current thinking and planning.

In the second phase, the Atlantic Council hosted an off-the-record closed workshop held on an unclassified level in Washington. Through two prescripted discussions, conducted under Chatham House rules, policy and scholarly experts were asked to stress test the assumptions from the first phase. This informed the project on the likelihood of AI countermeasures and conditions for escalation in future algorithmic warfare, as well as to validate recommendations.

The third and last phase of the project centered on future scenario development. This is a useful policy analysis tool that visualizes a set of possible future conditions to help NATO decision-makers to anticipate challenges as they define capability requirements for NATO’s success in future algorithmic warfare.

Structure

This report proceeds as follows. Part One maps AI technology trends and their military applications over the next decade, from the battlefield to the war room. Part Two then proceeds to anticipate the vulnerabilities of AI-enabled systems and to assess the possible vectors of attack to explore escalation pathways in algorithmic warfare; it covers both digital and physical dimensions across the so-called “AI triad” of algorithms, data, and computing power—and adds a human factor.

Part Three outlines three algorithmic futures—guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report—based on the likely transformative effects of military AI and their impact on international security. This line of scientific inquiry is highly relevant given ongoing research concerned with the impact of roboticized autonomous systems operating with minimal human supervision on future conflicts.8

Part Four discusses recommendations for NATO leaders. Based on the project’s findings, this report raises seven main action points that are categorized into three areas: AI readiness and resilience; military AI doctrine; and deterrence.

AI is becoming a general-purpose military technology that will sit inside almost every digital system that NATO uses.9 Its transformative effects will likely concentrate in two areas. First, decision-support systems will expand the scale of information analytics military commanders can process to make better decisions fast. Second, autonomous and semiautonomous platforms will shift how militaries sense, move, and strike on the battlefield. Together, these developments are driving an AI era of algorithmic warfare.10

AI can, in principle, be implemented in everything that uses a computer. As defense establishments digitize, AI has never been a single-purpose capability in itself. Rather, AI architecture underpins modern command, control, communications, intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, logistics, and weapons systems. NATO’s own definitions reflect this evolution. In 1995, NATO described AI as the capability of a functional unit to perform tasks generally associated with human intelligence, such as reasoning and learning. By 2005, it was also seen as “the branch of computer science” focused on building systems that reason, learn, and improve themselves.11 These definitions now apply across a much broader digital ecosystem. Software has become a defining component of many weapon systems and AI is increasingly embedded in sensors, networks, and command-and-control tools.

The overall expectations about AI’s impact on future warfare can be captured in three concepts: speed, scale, and autonomy. Speed refers to faster sensing, processing, and engagement cycles. Scale refers to the ability to handle vast volumes of data and to coordinate large numbers of distributed assets, including swarms of UASs. Autonomy refers to the degree to which AI systems can operate with minimal human supervision. NATO’s challenge will be to harness these three dimensions without sacrificing control, accountability, or interoperability.

From general-purpose enabler to algorithmic warfare

The military applications of AI span relatively low-stakes use cases such as administrative automation and training, operational functions like logistics and cybersecurity, and high-stakes roles in targeting, electronic warfare, and human-machine teaming in combat.12 From a functional standpoint, experts in defense and military affairs expect AI to matter depending on the AI model type, broadly divided in four categories: generative AI, classification, prediction, and autonomy.13 This includes tasks in which large volumes of data must be processed quickly, where patterns are too complex for human perception, where actions need to follow real-time operational intelligence fast, and where simulated environments can meet high training requirements.

Generative AI: Content, coaching, and cognitive effects

Generative AI models create novel content that mimics the statistical properties of the data on which they are trained in response to human prompts. In the military context, these systems are likely to be used as “agents” or virtual advisers that support commanders and staff in alleviating their daily administrative burdens and automating less critical processes, such as drafting routine reports, summarizing long documents, and translating technical information.14 In training and simulation, generative AI models can serve as simulation tools in war games and exercises. They populate synthetic environments with plausible adversarial actors and behaviors. This role improves scenario realism and generates alternative courses of action.

At the same time, these features can also be weaponized for offensive information operations. Adversaries can use generative AI to run large-scale, low-cost disinformation campaigns. This may involve producing tailored propaganda or impersonating Alliance leaders, journalists, and civil society voices. Generative AI will therefore be a powerful tool in the hands of adversaries seeking to manipulate perceptions and erode NATO’s cohesion.15

Classification: Noise and signal in a sensor-saturated battlespace

Classification models excel at recognizing patterns in labeled data and assigning new inputs to categories they have learned. Militaries already use such models for computer vision, facial and object recognition, and behavior detection. Computer vision models can identify vehicles, aircraft, ships, and infrastructure in imagery from satellites, aircraft, and UASs against their regularly updated data libraries. Classification tools can become crucial for early warning systems, from detecting stealthy cyber intrusions to flagging irregular troop movements. In sum, over the next decade, these systems are well-suited to sit at the core of intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and targeting architectures.

Much is expected from AI-enabled electronic warfare too. In a battlespace saturated with sensors, classification tools can automate filtering of the electromagnetic spectrum, such as distinguishing signal from noise and highlighting anomalous signals that warrant human attention. Furthermore, signal processing algorithms can suggest waveforms to counter hostile signals and thus help overcome adversarial jamming in real time.16 As the electromagnetic spectrum becomes more contested, the ability to recognize and respond to subtle patterns faster than an adversary will be a critical advantage.

Prediction and data fusion: Scaling decision support

Prediction models analyze historical and real-time data to identify trends and forecast likely future events. In military settings, they underpin decision-support systems (DSS) designed to help commanders cope with complexity and information overload. The transition to multidomain operations underscores the importance of such multimodal data fusion and analytics.17

This type of AI model is therefore suitable to support battle management, as they fuse information from multiple sources and data streams from land, air, maritime, cyber, and space assets, and integrate them into a single operating picture that is updatable in real time.18 However, this also means that such data-centric decision-making processes can narrow commanders’ perceptions and constrain their choices.19

They can also highlight early warning indicators, propose likely adversary courses of action, and flag emerging risks in logistics and supply chains. In logistics, in particular, AI can support predictive maintenance of critical stockpiles; forecast demand for ammunition, fuel, and spare parts; and anticipate bottlenecks in transportation networks.20 Predictive systems can also assist with medical support by estimating casualties and optimizing the positioning of medical resources.21

Autonomy: From perception to action

Autonomy involves AI systems that perceive their environment, process real-time data from sensors, and make decisions in pursuit of a mission objective without constant human intervention. In this case, AI models can cause kinetic effects, as they can direct hardware and/or software to react within the physical realm based on the input from the immediate environment.

Onboard AI enables uncrewed aircraft, ground vehicles, and maritime platforms to filter and fuse sensor inputs, navigate in contested environments, and pass the most relevant information back to human controllers. Advances in machine vision, for example, allow drones to compare real-time imagery from downward-facing cameras with stored satellite images and inertial data to determine their position without reliance on global navigation satellite systems. This is particularly important in GPS-denied or heavily jammed environments.22

Autonomy is also extending to terminal guidance and target recognition. Today, many drones operate on autopilot for parts of their mission, with humans in- or on-the-loop for final engagement decisions. Over time, fully autonomous solutions that combine visual navigation, target recognition, and terminal guidance are likely to proliferate. Seamless data flows, however, are crucial. The Ukrainian forces use a practice that resembles “Uber targeting,” where one unit identifies a target, shares the observation on an encrypted network, and the targeting assignment goes to whichever unit is available, even facilitating joint-strike capability from multiple vectors.23 AI-enabled systems that can collect, process, and act on information in real time will make such dynamic targeting more common, especially when communications with higher headquarters are degraded.

From incremental adoption to algorithmic warfare

Together, developments in these functional areas point toward the algorithmic future of warfare. Broadly speaking, algorithmic warfare refers to integrating automated, autonomous, and AI technologies into the conduct of war, while decreasing the role of human elements.24 In algorithmic warfare, the military conducts operations through AI-enabled capabilities that collect, analyze, and act on data at speeds and scales beyond human capacity. Artificially intelligent means operate when human warfighters cannot and reduce their exposure to danger. Such AI-enabled autonomous capabilities will especially be assigned tasks at the edge of the battlespace to handle time-critical sensing and response functions without human supervision and with minimum guidance.25

Yet the most transformative effects of military AI are likely to appear in two use cases. First, AI in DSS will expand the scale and speed of information processing, giving commanders a richer but more mediated view of the operating environment. Decision-support tools will not only help humans make better-informed choices but also shape the decision space by highlighting some options and obscuring others. Second, AI embedded in weapons platforms will use speed and autonomy to compress the kill chain, shrinking the time between detection, identification, decision, and engagement.26 This has implications for escalation control, the rules of engagement (ROE), and the role of commanders in supervising rapid, machine-driven engagements.

Drivers of change

Several structural drivers are signaling greater reliance on AI and algorithmic approaches to warfare. These drivers are particularly important for NATO as it implements its Digital Transformation Vision and prepares for multidomain operations.

Digital modernization of defense

First, the broader digital modernization of defense is creating the conditions in which AI can thrive. Modern militaries are upgrading their IT infrastructure and moving to software-defined capabilities that deliver new functionality to existing platforms.27 This also means adopting data-centric approaches to capability development through collaborative digital spaces.

As militaries continue implementing digital modernization of their forces, their dominance in the electromagnetic spectrum is crucial for their new dependencies on sensors, satellites, and networked systems. Russia’s war in Ukraine has underscored the importance of EM warfare, including GPS jamming and communications blackouts.28 These developments push militaries to design more resilient, autonomous, and decentralized command-and-control structures with better cybersecurity measures. At the same time, electromagnetic warfare in the West has not gotten the attention it needs and is still seen as largely subservient to or stovepiped from cyber.29

Interconnected domains

Second, the move toward multidomain operations (MDO) requires integrating effects across land, air, maritime, space, and cyberspace, as well as in the virtual and cognitive dimensions. MDO aims to “[orchestrate] military activities, synchronize non-military instruments of power, and deliver converging effects at the speed of relevance.”30 To make this possible, allies are building a digital backbone that can enable command and control across all domains. However, the effectiveness of this backbone depends on interoperable data sharing, secure and reliable communications, and advanced analytics capable of fusing data into a real-time consolidated multidomain picture. Turning well-integrated AI models into C4ISR systems that enhance situational awareness and support decision-making becomes part of the key conditions for conducting multidomain operations.

Autonomy pursuits

Third, recent and ongoing conflicts are accelerating experimentation with AI-enabled autonomous and decision-support systems. In Ukraine, AI-driven platforms already analyze extensive sensor and signal data to generate real-time targeting suggestions and logistical predictions.31 In Gaza, reports indicate that machine-learning systems such as “Gospel” and “Lavender” have been used to support dynamic targeting and terminal navigation by combining multi-source imagery with other intelligence inputs.32 These cases illustrate a shift from isolated, weapon-centric AI applications toward more comprehensive systems that inform planning, targeting, and force deployment at all command levels.

Drones are no longer only agents of remote warfare but are fast becoming agents of algorithmic warfare as well. Demand has surged for battlefield drone footage. Thousands of drone-camera videos depicting successful strikes are used to train computer-vision models, while engineers race to design uncrewed systems that can navigate and coordinate in GPS- and communications-denied environments using on-board processing and limited power.

Two motivations stand out: building “mass for precision” and supplementing shrinking human force structures. Swarm tactics and swarm command seek to saturate defenses and compress reaction times through the coordinated use of large numbers of low-cost platforms. At the same time, demographic trends and recruitment challenges will incentivize greater robotic integration and human-machine teaming. Forward-deployed, uninhabited platforms on standby will increasingly redefine how militaries think about force projection and readiness.33 For instance, large drone formations can provide the aggressor with an edge in the invasion of foreign territory, highlighting the challenge to the capacity of air defenses.34 Across these trends, AI is fast becoming more than just a technological tool; it is a vital strategic competency,35 and will likely determine which militaries can exploit AI—at scale and under stress. For NATO, understanding where AI is most likely to transform operations, and how adversaries might target the vulnerabilities of AI-enabled systems, is a prerequisite for credible deterrence and effective defense in the emerging era of algorithmic warfare.

Part two: The specter of algorithmic warfare

Militaries have not yet realized the full potential of AI technologies, but it is not difficult to see how AI will shape the strategic environment and wartime paradigms. As the AI race intensifies, potent AI-enabled capabilities will be deployed as part of NATO’s digital transformation and decision-support ambitions.36 This section translates interview insights and workshop discussions into a structured analysis of AI’s core components and their vulnerabilities and the likely vectors of adversarial attack. Two case studies used in the workshop—AI applications in autonomous weapons platforms and in a decision-support system—further informed the analysis of the limits of main AI countermeasures and the conditions under which escalation in algorithmic warfare may occur. This is because the likelihood of an adversary attacking NATO for using AI models for predictive maintenance is comparatively low.

AI triad

Military AI rests on three interlocking components often described as the AI triad: data, algorithms, and computing power.37 Each component has a specific implication for offense-defense parameters. For instance, algorithms imply attacks on model architecture, computing power involves disrupting semiconductors and supply chains, while data concern cyberattacks to poison datasets.

Data refers to information about the focus area of the machine-learning system, collected from sensors and other sources, organized, stored, and made accessible. Algorithms are the series of instructions used to process information; machine-learning algorithms derive insights from datasets and the learnable parameters that encode the core capabilities of an AI model in model weights. Computing power provides the speed and capacity to execute algorithms at scale, train models to determine weights, and run inference offline on deployed systems.38 In practice, computing power includes processors and graphics cards, advanced semiconductors, content delivery networks, power supplies, and cooling. Defense applications often need to run offline on edge devices under strict size, weight, and power constraints, or on government cloud resources with limited GPU availability. Data, sometimes dubbed the new “munition” due to their importance for modern warfare, encompasses issues such as volume, quality, salience, and labeling. The amount of training data strongly influences effectiveness, though collecting the right operational data and labeling it correctly are important for accuracy and alignment. Algorithms feed data into model weights through training, and their resulting internal architecture determines future data analysis in real-time operations.

AI vulnerabilities and vectors of attack

Integrating AI introduces several challenges along the entire triad. Core datasets are massive, models can be opaque, and natural-language prompting expands input surfaces. These characteristics create multiple entry points for adversaries and raise the importance of disciplined processes and safeguards. Adversaries will attempt to degrade NATO’s AI-enabled capabilities by targeting the triad across cyber, electromagnetic, and conventional kinetic dimensions. This section outlines how such attacks would prevent the Alliance from enjoying advantages from AI.

Computing power

Vulnerabilities associated with computing power reflect the physicality of AI infrastructure. This is because advanced semiconductors and specialized chips must be sourced, supplied, and integrated into systems that also require stable energy and cooling. The performance of inference-heavy applications may depend on AI-optimized hardware. These dependencies create risks during material shortages, expose weak points in data centers, and constrain performance at the tactical edge.

Adversaries can exploit material attributes of semiconductors. They can disrupt the supply of specialized AI chips, seed vendor-supplied Trojan backdoors, or manipulate cloud architectures built with commercial technology. They can target the electricity supply of data centers and sabotage their water-cooling systems to cause outages, or damage undersea cables and content-delivery networks to disrupt data flows.

Data

Data is vulnerable across the lifecycle of AI models. Adversaries can poison training datasets through cyber operations that mislabel data or introduce hidden triggers that cause the model to misbehave. Poorly labeled or biased datasets degrade performance, making certain classes of objects invisible to the system or misclassifying them at critical ranges. If the wrong data is collected, or if the right data is corrupted, the entire decision-support chain can lead a model to malfunction and reduce its reliability in the long term.

Adversaries can also interfere with real-life data collection. Because drones and other autonomous systems rely on environmental input, adversaries can tamper with surroundings to impact sensory input and cause abnormal behavior. For instance, blinding sensors on ISR platforms with optical illusions, or adjusting the sensors themselves, and generating spoofing signals can mislead the model into inappropriate responses.39 In addition to onboard perception and planning modules, adversaries can target control interfaces, power management, data relays, and user interfaces used to coordinate connected autonomous systems. Alternatively, disabling low-orbit satellites can also stop real-time input and data sharing.

Algorithms

Incorporating AI into the digital architecture makes the existing systems susceptible to attacks that target the AI model itself. Because model parameters encode internal configuration variables crucial for its operation, compromising weights and biases gives an attacker significant leverage. Adversaries can also try to steal model weights through espionage or proxy hackers, gaining access to the core capabilities of the model for manipulation.40
Adversaries can thicken the fog of war for algorithms by flooding AI-enabled DSS with inputs that are inaccurate, uncategorizable, or nonpatternable. They can exploit the rare and unpredictable features of the battlefield, since AI models are mostly trained on either synthetic data or on datasets from previous conflicts that may not quite fit the type and circumstances of the current war zone.

Interviewed experts and workshop participants indicated that the most likely adversarial action against military AI architecture would include:

  1. Blinding sensors on ISR platforms to stop the real-time input of new data.
  2. Spreading misinformation to confuse the algorithms with nonpatternable data.
  3. Physically damaging undersea cables to disrupt data sharing.
  4. Conducting espionage in the suppliers’ private lab facilities.

Surprisingly, however, the most vulnerable component of AI seems to be the human; data and algorithms follow, with the computing power being the least vulnerable of AI components. Such human-related vulnerabilities include personalized phishing, social engineering, cognitive bias, and deskilling.

Countering military AI

Having discussed the vectors of adversarial attacks on AI-enabled military systems and capabilities, this section now briefly comments on the means of such attacks. These AI countermeasures include cyber operations, conventional kinetic attack, electronic warfare, directed energy weapons (DEW), and tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse (EMP). Each has distinct advantages and limitations.

Cyber operations

Cyber operations can interfere with how AI models learn and operate by manipulating ones and zeros. Cyberattacks can degrade the model’s performance or integrity, limit its availability by delaying responses or rendering command-and-control systems inoperative at crucial moments.41 Integrating AI into military systems increases their vulnerability simply by creating more targets for computer hacking.42 These AI vulnerabilities include compromising software libraries, poisoning training data, hijacking AI infrastructure, or stealing sensitive AI properties. Such cyberattacks, however, require prior intelligence to target the right datasets and processing centers. Their effects can be difficult to assess and attribute in real time, which increases the potential for miscalculation.

Conventional kinetic action

Conventional kinetic attacks can target ISR assets including space-based systems, airborne warning and control system aircraft, and other hardware components integral in critical AI infrastructure. Traditional air defenses can target offensive AI onboard small autonomous vehicles with low-cost interceptors, nets, and guns. Kinetic action is tangible but can be escalatory depending on target and context, and it may be expensive or resource-intensive if used at scale against saturation attacks.

Electronic warfare

Electronic warfare uses electromagnetic energy to degrade hostile systems by jamming or spoofing. EW can produce reversible, nonlethal effects, but it is constrained by range, power, antennas, and by the need for detailed knowledge of enemy waveforms and code. Focused jamming and signal spoofing in case of multisensor platforms can confuse AI into analytical errors and lead to wrong reactions. Jamming, however, is possible only in the case of collaborative autonomous platforms that communicate among themselves the adaptive course of their action.

Directed-energy weapons

High-power microwaves and high-energy lasers widen the range of electromagnetic spectrum operations (EMSO). They can disable or destroy electronics on autonomous platforms using concentrated electromagnetic energy.43 While microwaves are suitable for area defenses and perimeter denial against swarms of drones, lasers with their energy beams perform point defense similar to short-range air defense and counter-rocket, artillery, and mortar missions. They have low logistics tails and low cost per shot, but they are power hungry and range-limited. Atmospheric conditions, such as rain and fog, can reduce beam quality and effectiveness, as well as increase fratricide risks. Their applications for space missions look promising given their reusability and the potential to degrade or destroy a satellite.44

Tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse

Nuclear explosions of all types—from underground to high altitudes—are accompanied by an electromagnetic pulse. The strength and area coverage of this intense time varying electromagnetic radiation depends on the warhead type and yield, and the altitude of the detonation.45 This means that while high-altitude airbursts can have a continent-wide deposition region, for explosions in the atmosphere at altitudes below 30 kilometers, the radius ranges from 5 to 16 kilometers.46

Since the 1960s, EMPs, either man-made or natural, have been known to have a potential to disrupt, damage, or destroy a wide array of electrical and electronic systems.47 Degradation of electrical and electronic system performance as a result of exposure to the EMP may cause either permanent functional damage or a temporary operational impairment, lasting from seconds to hours.48 Computers used in data processing systems, communications systems, and semiconductors belong to the category of devices most susceptible to failure.49

While airbursts have little or no fallout and no residual radiation, it is difficult to predict their effects and impact on today’s sensitive electronics, as well as avoid collateral damage and civilian casualties. Together with the difficulty to signal limited nuclear use, since the adversary cannot distinguish low-yield from high-yield weapons, such employment of nuclear EMP weapons remains highly problematic and inherently escalatory.50 Experimental exercises over the past decades have identified no assurance that a nuclear strike would remain limited.51

Escalation and algorithmic warfare

The workshop assessed the salience of AI-enabled lethal operations along an escalatory pathway from minor cyber operations to DEW and nuclear EMP. The following paragraphs summarize the expert participants’ discussion on the conditions under which the use of military AI could increase the risk of escalation.

Escalation is defined as “an increase in the intensity or scope of conflict that crosses threshold(s) considered significant by one or more of the participants.”52 Escalation thresholds then depend on retaliation in response to some form of attack. The workshop discussion highlighted the distinction between effects-based and means-based escalation logics. While effects-based logic identifies thresholds depending on the impact that is irrespective of the weapons type, means-based logic emphasizes the qualitative difference between nuclear, conventional, and cyber domains. Some means are regarded as less escalatory than others. For instance, cyberattacks have proven capable of restraining the escalation dynamic and even de-escalating geopolitical crises.53 Similarly, attacks on large drones are less likely to lead to escalation than attacks on inhabited aircraft.54

Most researchers studying the AI-nuclear intersection focus on AI amplifying existing risks in nuclear command, control, and communications that can spark accidental nuclear confrontation,55 undermining deterrence with AI-enabled conventional systems,56 incentivizing first strike,57 or exacerbating the proliferation/verification dilemma.58 This workshop addressed the concern of a possible deliberate use of nuclear weapons as a warfighting tool designed to produce electromagnetic pulse effects to counter military AI. Previous experimental war-gaming showed that although low-yield nuclear weapons do indeed destabilize international security since they are seen as a substitute for high-yield nuclear use, they do not seem to increase the likelihood of crossing the nuclear threshold.59

The workshop scenario described an AI-enabled fast and lethal drone saturation attack into the Baltic region. The scenario listed a number of possible responses:

  1. Diplomatic action.
  2. Economic sanctions.
  3. Cyberattack.
  4. Conventional kinetic response.
  5. Electronic warfare measures.
  6. Directed energy weapons.
  7. Tailored nuclear weapons with enhanced electromagnetic pulse.

The workshop participants ranked responses by their perceived escalatory potential. Diplomatic action and electronic warfare tended to come first and often in parallel. Kinetic action, cyber operations, and DEW followed as second-ring responses. Economic sanctions were seen as medium-term tools, not immediate response levers. Tailored nuclear EMP was considered least probable but most escalatory, with a consensus that its use over NATO territory would be unacceptable. Among the most prevalent concerns against the nuclear EMP use, the participants noted: lowering the threshold for strategic nuclear weapon use; observing the nuclear “taboo,” the response’s proportionality, proliferation of nuclear weapons following nuclear use, and setting a negative precedent.

The follow-on discussion highlighted that adversaries may exploit AI structural risks. Complex AI systems can make attribution and intent assessment harder as AI and autonomy create conditions for plausible deniability. In addition, increased speed and data volumes can work against the user, since time-pressured scenarios increase the risk that decision-makers may rely more heavily on potentially compromised AI outputs, without even understanding the source of unanticipated inputs or system failures.60

The workshop confirmed that military AI is not escalatory because offensive AI-enabled capabilities do not meaningfully increase the nature or intensity of a conflict. What matters is the choice of target, the physical damage, and the presence of casualties. At the same time, the properties of AI—speed, autonomy, and opacity—can increase the risk of inadvertent escalation. Despite the fight for EM spectrum dominance, the AI status of an attack does not lower nuclear thresholds—effects on the ground determine response. Ultimately, the vicinity of the adversary’s troops continues to be perceived as more escalatory than an AI-powered swarm attack.

Part three: Future scenarios

Juxtaposing the possible transformative effects of military AI against the threat perception (table A), this foresight study outlines three military AI future scenarios: Guarded opportunism, brave new world, and minority report. The goal is to anticipate long‑haul innovation in countering adversarial attacks on NATO’s AI systems and to inform military research and development decisions.61

The scenarios are modeled after two variables with a graduated level of likelihood. The first variable concerns the transformative impact of AI: whether countries achieve any strategic advantage from integrating AI into their militaries. And the second variable addresses an adversary’s threat perception: whether integrating AI provokes the development of new countermeasures and/or changes on the escalation ladder.

The fourth quadrant—AI fatigue—represents the most unlikely scenario with no decisive AI advantage and no heightened threat perception. It is less policy‑salient but remains useful as a control for future policy planning.

Scenario I. Guarded opportunism

This is the most plausible future scenario. AI meaningfully transforms military affairs and confers comparative advantage on states that integrate it well, yet it does not worsen adversary threat perceptions. Business continues largely as usual. AI‑enabled decision support and autonomy systems transform the character of warfare through expanded scale and increased operational speed yet without changing the nature of war.

NATO’s digital transformation and integrated AI-enabled military capabilities do not introduce qualitatively new risks or vulnerabilities. These remain familiar to cyberspace and can be managed with disciplined cyber hygiene and resilient power-supply architectures. However, AI may heighten some of the existing threat pathways and security risks. As AI becomes integral to the ability to operate and respond, degraded situational awareness and power outages, for instance, could become more consequential—and a new center of gravity—in digitalized, software-defined defense. Decision‑support systems help commanders filter the noise and frame choices faster, but they do not demand new categories of resilience beyond what Part Two already identified for the AI triad.

Hybrid pressure intensifies below the threshold of armed conflict. Cable cuts, data center intrusions, and information operations become routine. Russia continues sabotaging critical AI infrastructure to disrupt supply chains and cyber and drone intimidation campaigns across Europe.62 Yet technology knowledge and investments into resilient computer systems limit these escalation attempts. Better engineering and AI literacy shorten detection and attribution loops and make recovery faster.

Two challenges stand out. The first is the intergovernmental character of the Alliance. NATO relies on its member countries for certain types of cyber operations. This dependence on capitals to act creates latency in time‑sensitive crises and may result in inefficient responses that may not prevent further escalation of hybrid warfare. The second is information warfare targeting the Alliance’s reputation. NATO publics in left‑leaning governments are targeted with disinformation campaigns that frame AI‑enabled capabilities as unethical “killer robots,” arguing that NATO violates its own principles of responsible use of AI. Adversaries are further fueling domestic opposition to reduce tech-sector cooperation.

Still, guarded opportunism is defined by low escalation risks. Algorithmic warfare remains bounded by existing ROE and proportional responses. The only time AI and nuclear fields cross their paths with real-world consequences is in the widespread adoption of small nuclear reactors across the military to power demanding computations of AI models.

Scenario II. Brave new world

In the second scenario, AI is transformative and threat perception worsens. The AI triad delivers a real strategic and operational edge. However, AI-related risks grow with it over time due to insufficient literacy, lack of regular training, lagging skill development, and sloppy implementation of zero‑trust policy across armed forces. Furthermore, rapid and widespread integration of AI models creates new vulnerabilities, stemming from limited human agency, which complicate the cognitive aspects of decision-making.63 The result is an increased probability of flash wars among autonomous robotic systems, in which algorithms interact at such a fast pace that humans would not be involved.64

Such a degraded security environment sees multiple escalation spirals. Compressed decision-making times and fully autonomous systems contribute to perceptions of asymmetric disadvantage between Russia and NATO. Russia’s doctrine and force structure amplify the problem. Russia’s revision of its nuclear doctrine in 2024—with its greater emphasis on “aerospace attacks,” explicitly including drones, as one of the conditions under which nuclear weapons may be used—seems to lower the threshold for nuclear use.65 This demonstrates that Russia became more reliant on its nonstrategic nuclear weapons after its conventional forces degraded in the war on Ukraine.66 This seems to strengthen the Russian leadership’s belief that nonstrategic nuclear weapons are Russia’s “competitive advantage” over NATO.67 Furthermore, Russia’s vision of new generation warfare builds upon weapons based on new physical principles, including radio frequency, laser, infrasonic, and electromagnetic. Russia has indeed been developing a precision-strike system built on integration of EW, uncrewed strike and reconnaissance systems, hypersonic weapons, and low-yield nuclear warheads.

In contrast, as NATO’s deterrent power derives from advanced conventional capabilities, this scenario portrays a deeper blurring of conventional and nuclear domains.68 Yet NATO struggles to attain superiority in strategic command and control, while avoiding dependencies on commercial clouds and satellites. Large‑scale outages and cascading failures are more frequent. Allies hold regular war-gaming exercises to make sure that the Alliance’s responses remain proportionate even when attacks are AI‑generated. Yet Russia’s asymmetric countermeasures to the multidomain concept keep causing electronic damage to NATO command posts and communications centers.69

In high tension, states embrace capabilities that manipulate the spectrum—microwaves, lasers, tailored EMP—seeking to blunt swarms and blind sensors. While EW once seemed unbeatable, jamming lost its teeth against uncrewed vehicles that do not use communication and navigation links. And if autonomy was an antidote to EW, then degrading the electromagnetic environment has become the antidote to AI-enabled military capabilities.

Some governments resume nuclear explosive testing of airburst effects, which contributes to further entangling AI with the nuclear domain. The line between conventional and nuclear war will get more fragile with the proliferation of new classes of EMP weapons. Nuclear proliferation gets out of control as more countries strive to develop their own low-yield nuclear EMP deterrent to counter AI-enabled adversaries. Worse, numerous experts inside and outside Russia believe that a nuclear EMP attack does not need to be governed by the same set of considerations as strategic nuclear weapons and nuclear doctrine.70 Nuclear EMP weapons are understood within the category of electronic warfare or information warfare, not nuclear warfare. In this increasingly popular interpretation, an EMP attack is regarded as a legitimate use of nuclear weapons within the specter of algorithmic warfare. Even if nuclear EMP is conceptualized as a form of information warfare in some circles, its use would be profoundly escalatory.

Scenario III. Minority report

In the third scenario, technology hype drives strategy. AI does not deliver decisive comparative advantage for the military, yet threat perceptions grow worse. Exaggerated expectations about the game-changing, transformative, and inevitable impact of AI fuel anxiety about falling behind. The fear of missing out, rather than tangible advantages from AI models, pushes countries deep into the AI race. Such alarmism about phantom AI advantages has a destabilizing effect on strategic balance.

Information asymmetries deepen the problem. NATO militaries and Russian officials tout milestones and “breakthroughs,” while major AI firms speak of revolutionary models. The strategic conversation fixates on what might be developed tomorrow rather than what is fielded today. Decision‑makers overestimate near‑term effects and discount the risks and challenges of AI integration work highlighted in Parts One and Two. As a result, nuclear-armed great powers interpret routine military exercises as cover for preemptive strikes at machine‑speeds and tend to see AI-enabled ISR improvements as a direct threat to their second-strike capabilities.

Escalation pathways in this scenario are cognitive. On the one hand, leaders race to push fully autonomous prototypes forward before safety case evaluations are completed. Miscalculation risk rises not because AI-enabled autonomous weapons systems are unstoppable, but because the decision-makers believe they are. On the other, the adversaries deploy cognitive warfare tactics of “algorithmic amplification” to influence how decision-makers reason, degrade critical decision-making processes, and undermine their sense of security.71

The Alliance faces the challenge of lowering expectations while preserving its technological edge. However, while allies agreed to coordinate their political objectives of developing AI-enabled armed forces, the lack of national resources and ineffectiveness of their national AI strategies to achieve them weakened NATO’s cohesion.72 Leading AI countries are reluctant to institutionalize transparent metrics for AI readiness that separate laboratory promise from operational proof.

This scenario points to the need to move beyond the polarizing hopes-vs-fears dichotomy of AI in order to translate technological potential into military advantage through a sound implementation strategy.73 This scenario reminds policymakers and defense planners to budget for the cognitive dimension of technological competition. Publics and markets react to hyped narratives faster than to scientific results. Adversaries will try to exploit this gap with rhetoric about their AI leapfrogging, announcing the winner of the AI race.

Across all three futures, NATO faces distinct challenges posed by future algorithmic warfare. NATO’s advantage from AI models rests on speed, scale, and autonomy delivered by a resilient AI triad under close human oversight. Guarded opportunism is the most likely scenario and highlights AI vulnerabilities in the light of hybrid and information warfare. Brave new world is less likely but the more dangerous of the three futures. In this algorithmic future, NATO is constantly on the cusp of spirals of escalation and de-escalation and points to the dangers from rapid and widespread integration of AI models without correspondingly fast doctrinal adaptation. Minority report, meanwhile, outlines the destabilizing effects of AI hype in the context of lacking safety and transparency standards.

Part four: Policy recommendations

NATO’s advantage in algorithmic warfare will depend on converting AI’s speed, scale, and autonomy into reliable military capabilities while avoiding inadvertent escalation. This report suggests that the Alliance should focus on three lines of effort. First, it must build AI readiness and resilience across the Alliance. Second, it must refine military AI doctrine to preserve information dominance and to clarify response triggers under compressed timelines. Third, it must develop a deterrence strategy for its strategic AI-enabled DSS. These policy recommendations address the AI vulnerabilities and attack vectors identified in the report’s earlier sections, providing practical steps for NATO leaders implementing the Digital Transformation Vision and preparing for multidomain operations. Each recommendation is intended for near‑term adoption to set conditions for long‑term advantages from AI.

I. AI readiness and resilience

NATO should anchor its AI strategy in two core principles—literacy and redundancy—and reinforce those principles through a coordinated approach to the AI tech industry. Such an approach will help NATO avoid the risks of stale knowledge and deskilling.

Recommendation 1: Master AI literacy

AI literacy should be treated as a strategic competency for commanders, operators, and policymakers rather than as a niche topic confined to chief information officers. NATO should integrate AI education into professional military education, operational exercises, and staff development programs so that leaders understand both the promise and the limits of current AI models. AI-literate armed forces are less likely to succumb to tech-centric thinking and automation bias in future strategy and doctrine development.

NATO should also educate wider publics and political elites so that strategy debates do not become hostage to hype. Clear explanations of how models are evaluated, how data shape military performance, and how human judgment remains central are key for preparing policymakers at all levels to make informed AI-related decisions.74

Recommendation 2: Engineer redundancy

Maintaining the ability to transmit information is essential for coordinated actions. NATO should assume that outages and system failures will occur. The Alliance needs to exercise capabilities in communications‑degraded electromagnetic environments and design robust and rehearsed secondary systems. This involves mapping cyber and physical dependencies to avoid single points of failure.

The Alliance should pursue controlled geographic decentralization of data centers to improve resilience of its AI architecture. This will require lawmakers to align national legislative requirements on strict data standards and protocols for insider-outsider threat detection. Vetting the data that goes into AI-enabled DSS, together with delineating clear boundaries between training periods and operational deployment of AI models, will improve the ability to isolate “poisoned” data and contain their spread. Training a team of experts to ensure human oversight of AI workings can limit the consequences of system malfunctions, while limiting the number of people with authorized access to base model parameters, can reduce the risk of sabotage and espionage.

Investment priorities should include research programs that work on future novel materials for shielding and protection of high-speed digital computers against EM interference. Given that the adversaries are likely to invest heavily in spoofing and dazzling hardware capabilities, the Allies should consider hardened interfaces against exfiltration. Lastly, NATO should invest in resources for continuous active defenses that constantly look for evidence of deception and run malfunction diagnostics.

Recommendation 3: Coordinate approach to AI tech industry

NATO should develop a code of conduct for private-sector engagements. The code would require AI companies developing products for decision-support systems and autonomous platforms to adhere to safety and ethical standards. The Alliance should create a trusted group of commercial suppliers and establish clear rules for civilian software engineers and technicians deployed in war zones. To prevent adversaries from achieving tech superiority, the Allies should examine their technology dependencies, “friend-shore” supply chains, and tighten export controls of critical components.

The Alliance should try to address the knowledge gap that exists in the private sector on how EMPs affect computer-based systems. NATO should partner with space tech organizations that have experience with the most advanced research into electromagnetic disturbances. As part of coordinating government–industry unclassified information sharing, NATO could also facilitate partnerships between traditional military hardware providers with software developers so that commercial capabilities can be deployed on military‑grade platforms. Lastly, NATO should encourage forward thinking. Routine, joint red‑teaming and data‑poisoning drills with industry will expose weaknesses. Regular brainstorming on risks from new EMP weapons and postquantum cryptography should feed into the life-cycle design of current systems.

II. Military AI doctrine

Doctrine must convert technical possibility into operational advantage while reducing the pathways to inadvertent escalation. Three recommendations on doctrinal adaptation can contribute to preserving NATO’s advantage from AI.

Recommendation 4: Maintain information dominance

NATO should develop a functional framework for operationalizing AI in support of algorithmic warfare that prioritizes military objectives over abstract benchmarks. Commanders should measure success in terms of effects—such as optimized asset‑to‑target allocation on defense—rather than in terms of statistical thresholds.

Investments should focus on early warning systems, electromagnetic warfare capabilities, and a layered counter‑UAS architecture that combines continuous passive radars, electronic warfare, DEW, and point defenses.

Maintaining information dominance also requires the ability to distinguish routine probing in the form of hybrid air denial operations from preparations for larger operations using drone saturation attacks. Exercises should therefore include ambiguous data, degraded sensors, and adversarial attempts to manipulate inputs so that the troops learn to question AI outputs without losing their operational tempo.

Recommendation 5: Clarify escalation thresholds

Compressed timelines will produce decision paralysis unless allies agree on response triggers and predelegate command authority to avoid escalation risks. NATO allies should develop a shared understanding of escalation thresholds for algorithmic warfare, including thresholds defining the strategic effects of adversarial AI-enabled attacks, as well as of attacks on NATO’s own AI architecture.

NATO also should have clear protocols in place for attribution and proportionality regarding the Alliance’s responses. For instance, would poisoning an adversary’s data count as an offensive cyber operation? NATO allies also need to make sure there are clear rules of engagement for autonomous and semiautonomous response systems. In anticipating the adversary’s deniability claims in the event of AI-enabled attacks, such as “accident” or “loss of control,” NATO should not be adjusting its red lines between subthreshold manipulation and armed attack.

Recommendation 6: Assess the electromagnetic layer with accuracy

The electromagnetic spectrum should not be an afterthought. NATO defense planners need to take the electromagnetic spectrum into consideration at the beginning of warfare planning and develop a spectrum plan with assigned frequencies. Future algorithmic warfare may require NATO to update its standards for survivability (STANAG 4145) to reflect the reality that modern critical infrastructure includes data centers and commercial satellites in addition to traditional command facilities.
In planning for EM-contested environments, NATO allies should preposition shielded assets—power, fuel, generators, and communications equipment—in forward locations to avoid logistical shortages during compressed timelines. They could also invest in software‑defined or reconfigurable radios and optical/laser communications. They should also explore the use of UAS or balloon‑based repeaters to restore the ability to transmit information when ground infrastructure is compromised. Treating the spectrum as a distinct layer of multidomain operations will protect the strategic initiative and the superiority in command and control that NATO seeks to maintain.

III. Deterrence

As AI‑enabled systems underpin strategic command‑and‑control functions, NATO must develop a deterrence strategy based on black box ambiguity without locking itself into a rigid declaratory policy.

Recommendation 7: Deter by ambiguity

NATO should project resilience while keeping the internal architecture of sensitive AI systems opaque to adversaries. Black box AI would also deprive adversaries of the ability to assess the real costs of potential attack. At the same time, the Alliance must maintain the diagnostic capacity to distinguish foreign interference from technical failure in case of system malfunctions, so that ambiguity does not erode internal accountability.

Building and demonstrating resilience—technical, organizational, and informational—will enable NATO to signal confidence and control. Its strategic communication should make clear that deliberate interference with decision‑support systems could carry serious consequences, even if precise thresholds and responses remain undisclosed. Taken together, these seven recommendations translate the analytical sections into concrete actionable items. Literacy keeps humans in charge under compressed timelines. Redundancy and industry coordination make the AI triad more trustworthy. Doctrine secures the informational high ground and clarifies action in crisis. Finally, deterrence by ambiguity protects the Alliance’s AI advantage without inspiring its adversaries into building new countermeasures. Implemented in parallel, these steps position NATO to enjoy its AI advantage in algorithmic warfare on terms that contribute to a stable security environment.

Conclusion

NATO’s competitive edge in the era of emerging and disruptive technologies will come from treating AI as a general-purpose enabler embedded across the Alliance’s digital backbone, rather than as a stand-alone “wonder weapon.” AI-enabled decision support and autonomy do not create vulnerabilities that are different in kind from cyber risks, but they raise the stakes by tying mission-critical effects—speed, scale, and autonomy—to software-defined systems that adversaries will target. Escalation will continue to be governed by effects and targets, not labels, while cognitive factors complicate judgment under time pressure. The practical implication for NATO is clear: invest in literacy, engineer redundancy, clarify doctrine, and project resilience with measured ambiguity.

This report addresses NATO’s ambition to protect its AI technological edge while digitalizing defense. Part One showed how AI will matter most in two intertwined areas: decision-support systems that compress time and expand the scale of information processing, and autonomous or semiautonomous platforms that accelerate sensing, movement, and strike. These advantages rely on the secured AI triad of algorithms, data, and computing power. Part Two mapped where adversaries will try to turn those strengths into liabilities—poisoning data, spoofing sensors, stealing model weights, interrupting cloud access and cable backhaul, and attacking the AI physical infrastructure. The analysis emphasized that while attempts to degrade AI-enabled military capabilities will resemble cyberspace operations, the consequences of failure are amplified when AI is made responsible for situational awareness at the core of command-and-control decision-making.

Parts Three and Four translated those findings into future forecasting and recommendations. The foresight scenario exercise underscored that the most likely near-term pathway is one of guarded opportunism—AI improves productivity and tempo without changing the nature of war—while the most dangerous pathway blends real AI advantage with worsening threat perception, making EMSO and directed-energy tools more salient in crisis. The most deceptive pathway is driven by hype: Threat perceptions rise even when fielded capabilities do not correspond to exaggerated predictions. Across all futures, effects, targets, and collateral risk determine algorithmic warfare dynamics.

Crucially, military AI systems do not introduce vulnerabilities that are categorically new, yet the consequences of foreign interference can be greater. If AI-enabled systems are integral to a unit’s ability to operate and respond, then successful attacks on those systems may warrant responses that are more escalatory than tit-for-tat cyber exchanges. Timing matters as well. Loss of real-time situational awareness in a crisis reduces clarity about what happened and who is responsible, raising the probability of misperception and inadvertent escalation. In practice, this report calls for disciplined deployment of decision-support systems that can only rely on rehearsed secondary systems.

The study also clarified the relationship between EMSO and nuclear restraint in the context of tailored, nonstrategic nuclear weapons. Means-based analysis sheds light on how emerging technologies shape modern escalation dynamics. Rather than making technology-centric estimates, this report highlights systemic risks related to AI: How leaders perceive risk under pressure remains decisive.

Literacy is therefore more than a training agenda; it is an instrument of restraint. Educated policymakers, commanders, and publics are less likely to treat AI as “cyber pixie dust” or to confuse reversible electronic effects with strategic attack. They will be better able to choose the right mission for the AI-enabled capability. In parallel, designating data centers, cables, AI labs, and commercial satellites as critical infrastructure and strategic assets will help align strategy and doctrine with the realities of a software-defined force.

This study contributes to AI literacy by stripping away hype and clarifying where algorithmic warfare introduces new challenges. For NATO leaders implementing the Digital Transformation Vision, the immediate tasks are practical: align skill development programs, harden the AI triad, codify response triggers, and show resilience without over-specifying red lines. Doing so reduces the risk that exaggerated expectations about new technology will drive strategy.

The report’s findings point to a future research agenda that looks into how tactical actions can engage strategic effects. AI-enabled autonomy and speed can magnify the psychological impact of hybrid campaigns, especially where the cost of interceptors is high and the pace of exchange is machine-driven. Routine “gray zone” activities are already redefining the baseline of normalcy across Europe.75 Such threshold uncertainty permits plausible deniability, keeping the adversarial action away from Article 5 territory.

Open questions remain. How robust is the “firebreak” in escalation theory when algorithmic systems increasingly shape perception and timing? Can allies maintain recognizable qualitative distinctions between domains when effects propagate across them in multidomain operations? And where, precisely, do we draw escalation thresholds when nonkinetic actions in the electromagnetic spectrum generate strategic consequences? Answering these questions will require continued red teaming, transparent metrics for AI readiness, and joint experimentation that links tactical vignettes to strategic decision-making fora.

The Alliance has long excelled at military hardware. In a data-centric, software-defined approach to defense, advantage will come from systems engineering and smart innovation adoption choices. If NATO invests in AI literacy and redundancy, elevates the EM spectrum within the multidomain operations concept, and projects resilience with measured ambiguity, it can protect its AI edge and defend against adversarial attacks. That is the path to credible deterrence and effective defense in the emerging AI era of algorithmic warfare.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank the interviewed experts and workshop participants for their generosity in sharing their time and knowledge, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative staff for making a home for this project, and the NATO Office of the Chief Scientist for choosing to fund this project as part of its 2025 grants program.

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The Transatlantic Security Initiative aims to reinforce the strong and resilient transatlantic relationship that is prepared to deter and defend, succeed in strategic competition, and harness emerging capabilities to address future threats and opportunities.

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Deterrence in a two-peer world requires prudence https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/designing-us-nuclear-force/ Fri, 27 Mar 2026 16:50:37 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=915412 Washington faces the challenge of preserving credible deterrence and reassuring allies against two potential nuclear peers—possibly acting together—without fueling dangerous instability or draining resources from other defense priorities. This will require a balanced approach that avoids counterproductive arsenal growth.

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Bottom lines up front

  • US nuclear strategy must now account for a rapidly expanding Chinese nuclear force alongside a modernizing Russia.
  • Whether the current US nuclear force is sufficient depends on unresolved questions about China’s nuclear plans, US objectives, and Russian and Chinese doctrines.
  • Arms control should be pursued now rather than waiting for a buildup that offers the US no near-term bargaining leverage.

Washington’s plans to rebuild its nuclear arsenal conceived in the early 2010s assumed a world in which Russia was not an acute threat, China maintained a modest nuclear deterrent, and arms control constrained US and Russian nuclear forces. None of those conditions remain.

Today, China’s extensive nuclear buildup and increasingly assertive foreign policy, Russia’s continued modernization and nuclear saber-rattling, and the erosion of arms control define a new era. These trends are prompting a reexamination of US nuclear strategy not seen since the Cold War’s end. What conflict scenarios must be anticipated? How large and diverse should the arsenal be to deter both Russia and China simultaneously? And can arms control contribute to US security amid deepening tensions?

Washington faces the challenge of preserving credible deterrence and reassuring allies against two potential nuclear peers—possibly acting together—without fueling dangerous instability or draining resources from other defense priorities. This will require a balanced approach: continuing modernization and hedging against uncertainty, while avoiding counterproductive arsenal growth and pursuing arms control to reduce risks.

The new nuclear threat environment 

Nuclear weapons are increasingly salient in international politics. China’s quest to become a world class nuclear power amid rising tensions with the United States is the most striking development. The United States projects China will field about one thousand operational warheads by 2030 and potentially fifteen hundred by 2035—up from roughly two hundred in 2020. Beijing’s construction of hundreds of new intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) silos, focus on increasing launch readiness, and pursuit of more flexible response options reflect a posture aimed at enhancing survivability, countering US advantages, and improving its ability to control the escalation of a nuclear conflict.

Russia continues to modernize its forces, broaden the role of nuclear weapons in its doctrine, and use nuclear bullying to deter Western support for Ukraine. Meanwhile, the arms control framework that once bounded the US-Russia nuclear relationship has effectively collapsed. The last pillar of this framework, the 2010 New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) expired in February with nothing to replace it.

Longstanding US nuclear strategy has been that credible deterrence of nuclear attack against the US homeland and extended deterrence to US allies and partners requires several elements. These include:

  • Maintaining sufficient survivable forces in the event of a large-scale strike on un-alerted US forces;
  • Retaining nuclear counterforce capabilities “to reduce potential adversaries’ ability to employ nuclear weapons against the United States and its allies” (aka damage limitation) to the extent practicable if deterrence fails and; 
  • Ensuring the availability of graduated response options against potential adversary attempts to escalate out of failed conventional aggression.

The United States previously had to deter only one nuclear peer and could treat China as a lesser threat. Now Washington must prepare to face Russia and a far more formidable nuclear China. Russian and China could even coordinate, or one could act opportunistically while the United States is engaged with the other.

Some former government officials and experts warn this shift presents fundamentally new challenges. Ignoring the challenges would leave Washington and its allies vulnerable and would signal waning resolve. The bipartisan Congressional Strategic Posture Commission concluded in its October 2023 report that the current US nuclear modernization program is inadequate. It recommended urgent preparations to upload reserve warheads after New START’s expiration, develop additional limited‑use options, and plan for a larger force in the longer term. 

The Biden administration acknowledged that deterring multiple nuclear adversaries might soon require a bigger and more diverse deployed arsenal, but deferred any decision to the Trump administration. Whether the Trump administration will revise US force requirements to address China’s nuclear transformation remains to be seen. The administration’s National Defense Strategy, released in January, stated: “We will modernize and adapt our nuclear forces accordingly with focused attention on deterrence and escalation management amidst the changing global nuclear landscape.”

Nuclear force sizing considerations  

Strategic forces

China is the primary driver of the concern that the current US arsenal—1,550 deployed warheads and seven hundred deployed delivery systems—is insufficient, particularly Beijing’s recent construction of more than 300 new silo-based ICBMs. Advocates of increasing the deployed arsenal to hold these targets at risk argue that doing so is necessary to fulfill US nuclear employment objectives, including the damage limitation objective, against both Russia and China simultaneously.

These advocates are correct that there is nothing magical or sacrosanct about 1,550 warheads and that New START was negotiated in a world that has changed markedly over the past fifteen years. Yet other considerations are relevant to the question of whether an increase is needed.

First, analysis conducted during President Barack Obama’s second term concluded that core US targeting objectives could still be satisfied with roughly one‑third fewer deployed weapons than New START allowed. If the US arsenal is more than enough for deterrence against Russia, that suggests some available headroom to address growth in China’s force, at least in the near term.

Second, if a US decision to grow the deployed force triggers offsetting responses from Russia and China, that could erase any relative advantage Washington might have gained from an increase.

A third consideration is why an increase is necessary on a day-to-day peacetime basis, as the deployed force can be generated and uploaded to higher levels in a crisis or escalating war. (A counter to this argument would be that there might not be enough lead time to upload in these scenarios.) Moreover, excessive uploading of warheads could reduce the operational flexibility of the arsenal.

Even if growth isn’t required in the near term, a point might come when it could be necessary if China builds up its warheads and launchers to the high end of current projections—or beyond them. But if Beijing levels off at one thousand warheads, the case for holding steady would be stronger.

Geopolitical risk is not the only challenge facing the US nuclear enterprise. Practical constraints loom large. The ongoing modernization program will yield fewer delivery systems on submarines than today’s arsenal, as the new Columbia‑class ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) will carry eight fewer missile tubes than their Ohio-class predecessors. The program also faces mounting cost overruns, schedule delays, and performance issues, which could force difficult trade‑offs with conventional modernization priorities.

Near‑term options to expand US strategic forces are limited to reactivating four missile tubes per Ohio‑class SSBN deactivated under New START and uploading additional warheads to deployed delivery systems from the reserve stockpile. New delivery systems beyond existing modernization plans cannot begin to be fielded until the mid- to late-2030s, and their acquisition would further increase costs, depending on the scale of expansion. (Modification of some existing systems to make them more capable could potentially be achieved sooner.)

The confluence of the above geopolitical and modernization transition risks means any uploading to address one of the risks would reduce the ability to address the other—as well as any unforeseen technical problems affecting the functioning of a type of delivery system or warhead, or any operational risk caused by advances in adversary capabilities.

Nonstrategic forces

There is also a debate about whether US nonstrategic nuclear capabilities are sufficient in a two‑peer environment. One argument is that Russia and China believe their theater nuclear forces provide coercive leverage and escalation management options that Washington’s lower-yield air‑ and sea‑based weapons cannot match. (The United States fields a small number of B61 nuclear gravity bombs in Europe but has not housed dedicated theater nuclear forces in the Indo-Pacific since the end of the Cold War.) Some allies also worry this asymmetry could undermine US resolve and capacity to defend them. 

Russia’s excessive reliance on nonstrategic nuclear weapons (it is believed to possess one to two thousand such weapons) seems to be driven by its perception of a conventional imbalance vis-à-vis the United States and NATO more broadly. According to the 2025 US intelligence community’s annual threat assessment, “Russia’s vast arsenal of nonstrategic nuclear weapons helps it to offset Western conventional superiority and provide formidable escalation management options in theater war scenarios.” The Defense Intelligence Agency added that “Russia almost certainly seeks to avoid direct conflict with NATO because it assesses it cannot win a conventional military confrontation with the alliance.”

New US theater capabilities with different military characteristics—such as a new sea-launched nuclear-armed cruise missile—would give the president additional options to respond to limited Russian nuclear use. But if Russia’s theater weapons are intended to counter NATO conventional superiority, it’s not clear that additional US theater capabilities would have a significant impact on Russia’s threshold for nuclear use beyond existing US and Alliance options. According to Michael Kofman and Anya Loukianov Fink, two experts on Russian nuclear strategy: “One of the misperceptions about Russian nuclear strategy is that it takes advantage of lower-yield nuclear weapons that the United States does not have. This appears nowhere in Russian military writings or deliberations.” Meanwhile, the best way to deter Russian limited nuclear use is to perpetuate Russia’s perception that a conventional war with NATO would be unwinnable for Moscow so that it doesn’t start such a war in the first place.  

The Defense Intelligence Agency assesses, “China probably seeks lower-yield nuclear warhead capabilities to provide proportional response options that its high-yield warheads cannot deliver” for its theater-range delivery systems such as the DF-26 missile. A dedicated regional nuclear capability in the Pacific would give Washington a response option it doesn’t currently have. Yet whether China is pursuing low-yield options to gain a coercive edge over the United States in a conventional conflict or to offset perceived US advantages in nonstrategic arms remains uncertain. The answer matters for determining the degree to which a dedicated US option would strengthen deterrence.

Any potential benefits of extra US nonstrategic weapons should be weighed against the potential risks. These hazards include the unintended escalation risks of adding nuclear options to existing or planned conventional ground- and sea-launched missiles (adversaries could assume any dual-capable missile launch as nuclear) and reduced availability of launchers to fire conventional weapons. 

An additional consideration is that Washington might face conventional inferiority in one theater in a multi‑peer conflict, forcing it to consider increased reliance on nonstrategic nuclear options for war fighting. But US first use would carry high escalation risks and could require scores—if not hundreds—of additional warheads, a number likely beyond the near‑term capacity of the US nuclear production base.

Key questions

Where one falls on the sufficiency question depends greatly on what conflict scenarios the United States and its allies need to be prepared to deter and respond to, as well as the associated nuclear employment objectives, posture, and force structure one believes is required for deterrence in these scenarios. Reasonable people can disagree on these determinations and how much risk is prudent to accept given competing priorities. 

As the Trump administration grapples with the “how much is enough” question, additional analysis would be beneficial for identifying the available option space in the new strategic landscape. Key questions include the following. 

  • Does the United States need to achieve a similar level of damage limitation against multiple adversaries simultaneously? Or would the ability to limit damage from one adversary while inflicting a lesser, though still intolerable, level of damage on the second adversary be sufficient? 
  • Do Russia and China perceive gaps in US nuclear capabilities at both the strategic and regional or theater levels?
  • How would augmented strategic nuclear capabilities—alongside improved long-range conventional strike and missile defenses—be expected to enhance deterrence, and what potential adversary responses and stability implications should be considered? 
  • What are the potential benefits and risks of additional dedicated US theater nuclear capabilities for shaping adversary decision-making during crisis and conflict, and how might they affect escalation dynamics, intra-war deterrence, and conflict termination?
  • What are the current and future geopolitical, transition, and operational risks the nuclear enterprise needs to hedge against? What are the options to mitigate them?
  • Are there nonnuclear alternatives that could meet deterrence objectives, especially considering rapid advances in technology? 

Arms control considerations

After returning to office, President Donald Trump wasted little time in calling for negotiations with Russia and China to “denuclearize . . . in a very big way.” 

A year later, the president decided not to accept or counter Russian President Vladimir Putin’s offer to continue observing the New START limits for one year beyond the treaty’s expiration. Instead, senior administration officials have doubled down on the need to pursue multilateral arms control that includes additional types of nuclear weapons and both Russia and China.

Russia has indicated it will continue to observe the treaty’s central limits on warheads and delivery systems so long as the United States does. Given there is no immediate need for the United States to expand the deployed arsenal—and even if there were, uploading would take time—the Trump administration should not give Russia a reason to build up. At the same time, the administration should push for the resumption of a dialogue on strategic stability, risk reduction, and a successor agreement to New START. The discussions should address strategic and nonstrategic weapons not captured by New START.

Such steps would preserve at least informal limits on Russia’s strategic forces while Washington reviews requirements to address China, restore communication on nuclear issues, and increase diplomatic pressure on Beijing. In addition, this approach would be consistent with the National Security Strategy’s call to “reestablish strategic stability with Russa.” 

As the administration pursues its goals for arms control in the new security landscape, it is important to remember that arms control is a tool and not an end in and of itself. It is a means to manage competition and enhance US competitive advantages. And it is a tool that retains considerable value. 

There is value in verifiable weapon ceilings, transparency about weapon holdings, counteracting the potential peril of emerging technology, and addressing particularly destabilizing types of weapons such as the placement of strategic weapons in space. There is value given the limitations on the US ability to keep up in a nuclear competition, due to the constraints on its ability to build new weapons. And there is value in demonstrating US leadership and exercising the skills of a waning US arms control enterprise.

Some analysts assert a nuclear buildup would create leverage for future negotiations. But US-Russian arms control history suggests a more complicated story. Building new strategic systems beyond current plans isn’t possible for another decade and thus offers no near‑term bargaining value. Whether uploading reserve warheads would influence Moscow or Beijing depends on how they factor these warheads into their threat assessment. Decades of US nuclear superiority did not persuade Beijing to negotiate, and Russia conditions discussions of its exotic strategic delivery systems (e.g. Skyfall and Poseidon) and nonstrategic weapons on limits to US missile defenses and advanced conventional strike capabilities.

It remains to be seen if meaningful progress on arms control is possible so long as Russia’s aggression against Ukraine and China’s unwillingness to get off the arms control sidelines continues. But if a process does get underway, several issues will likely arise.

If the Trump administration is open to another bilateral accord on US and Russian strategic forces, what the administration proposes to Moscow is likely to be influenced by an assessment of what is needed to deter China. That assessment could yield a proposal to Moscow with higher limits on deployed strategic weapons than New START, as well as a shorter duration, to hedge against uncertainty over China’s buildup. This would reverse the trend of progressively lower limits in previous agreements. But that does not mean there wouldn’t be value in such an arrangement in terms of stability, predictability, and transparency, especially compared to an alternative with no agreement. (Such an agreement also wouldn’t require the United States to operate at the height of those limits on a day-to-day basis.) 

Missile defense will inevitably feature in any negotiation, especially one seeking limits below or beyond New START. Trump’s interest in enhancing US homeland defenses via Golden Dome has prompted unsurprising criticism in Moscow and Beijing, but pursuing arms control need not be in conflict with missile defense. Workable compromises exist if both sides are willing to bargain. Washington can both augment its missile defenses and use them as a lever for securing significant Russian and Chinese concessions.

Non‑strategic nuclear weapons are often viewed as essential to any New START successor. But as Michael Albertson of the Center for Global Security Research notes, the Trump administration should weigh potential benefits against complexity and cost. Given US concerns about Russia’s potential limited use of nuclear weapons if it is losing a conventional war, even cutting Russia’s nonstrategic arsenal in half would not resolve the issue. Greater value could come from data exchanges, notifications, on‑site inspections, and consolidating storage sites.

It remains unrealistic to expect China to immediately join a trilateral agreement with the United States and Russia that limits nuclear weapons. A more achievable near-term approach is to begin a bilateral conversation on risk reduction topics such as crisis management and guardrails at the intersection of emerging technology and nuclear risk, which could later be broadened to a multilateral conversation. If momentum can be generated, seeking a better understanding of China’s arsenal composition and plans should be a high priority. If the United States knew, for example, that China had an end point in mind for its buildup, that would provide much-needed confidence and predictability and help to avoid worst-case planning. 

Conclusion

The US response to the new strategic environment must be based on more than just a reconsideration of numbers and types of nuclear weapons. By aligning prudent military planning with purposeful diplomacy, the United States can preserve deterrence, prevent dangerous competition, and strengthen the foundations of global security in an era of unprecedented nuclear complexity.

This issue brief is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s Great nuclear debate series, a curated anthology of perspectives on arms control, force sizing, and missile defense from leading experts.

About the author

Kingston Reif is a senior international and defense researcher at RAND. From 2021 to 2024, he served as the deputy assistant secretary of defense for threat reduction and arms control. 

explore the program

Forward Defense leads the Atlantic Council’s US and global defense programming, developing actionable recommendations for the United States and its allies and partners to compete, innovate, and navigate the rapidly evolving character of warfare. Through its work on US defense policy and force design, the military applications of advanced technology, space security, strategic deterrence, and defense industrial revitalization, it informs the strategies, policies, and capabilities that the United States will need to deter, and, if necessary, prevail in major-power conflict.

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Why US strategic nuclear forces must expand after New START https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/why-us-strategic-nuclear-forces-must-expand-after-new-start/ Fri, 27 Mar 2026 16:49:34 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=913233 With the New START treaty's caps on the US nuclear force expired, the United States has an opportunity to increase and adapt its nuclear force to deter both Russia and China. Policymakers should seize it.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The United States needs a nuclear force larger than today’s and flexible enough to influence adversary decision-making at all stages of crisis and conflict.
  • A US strategic deterrent capable of delivering roughly 2,400 operationally deployed warheads in the near term should be sufficient to meet US strategy requirements.
  • Force attributes and flexibility matter as much as numbers, though.

Now that the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty has expired, the debate begins over what the United States should do next regarding its nuclear posture. The recently released National Defense Strategy (NDS) sheds little light on the Trump administration’s plans; it does not even mention New START. Instead, the NDS largely eschews details on US nuclear policy and capabilities, noting only that the United States “will modernize and adapt our nuclear forces accordingly with focused attention on deterrence and escalation management.”1 What this means for US force size and posture will play out over the coming months and years, likely beginning with submission of the president’s annual budget request later this spring.

In anticipation of this debate, many commentators urge caution, suggesting that any expansion in US force size (even in response to actions by China and Russia) could prompt an uncontrolled arms race.2 Others argue that the United States has time to prepare for the emerging threats it faces so there is no need to panic, suggesting that adjustments can wait until the country gets closer to the end of the existing modernization program of record.3 Still others contend that the United States already has enough nuclear weapons and that force growth would be expensive and counterproductive.4One specific argument points to a 2013 Obama administration assessment that the US nuclear force could be reduced by up to one-third, claiming this extra one-third today provides sufficient headroom to manage China’s emergence as a nuclear peer.5

While much of this debate focuses on numbers alone, policymakers and military officials must also account for the attributes of the deployed force necessary for effective and credible deterrence. The question of “how much is enough” is not solely a matter of numbers, but of force size and the overall capabilities of the warheads and delivery systems the United States deploys. US force posture must be capable of deterring a diverse array of nuclear-armed adversaries and, if deterrence fails, must enable the achievement of national objectives against one or more of them. In general terms, national objectives include: restoring deterrence and managing escalation; limiting damage to the United States and its allies and partners; and imposing unacceptable damage on an adversary.6 The capabilities needed to achieve these objectives vary from adversary to adversary. They require not just an appropriately sized force, but one with the attributes needed for the array of objectives that US nuclear forces might need to achieve against each.

Given the evolving security environment and growing demands on US strategic deterrence, a force larger and more diverse from that fielded today is needed as a matter of priority—one that provides capabilities responsive to the deterrence challenges now confronting the United States.

New START’s expiration is good news for US security

Despite the New START treaty (NST) now being in the rearview mirror, it is worth revisiting why its expiration enhances US security. First, today’s security environment is significantly more dangerous than when NST was ratified—or even when it was extended in 2021—a conclusion repeatedly documented by the US government over the past decade. In 2010, Russia was viewed as a potential strategic partner of the United States and NATO, and great-power conflict was widely seen as unlikely.7 Since then, both Russia and China have demonstrated a willingness to use force to advance geopolitical aims—Russia in Ukraine and China by expanding its territorial sway in and around the South China Sea. And Russia continues to brandish its nuclear capabilities to coerce Ukraine and the West.8 Great-power conflict is no longer a remote possibility.

Second, in 2010 China’s nuclear posture was not central to US deterrence planning. China’s nuclear force was often treated as a “lesser included” component of the Russian threat, meaning a force sufficient to deter Russia would also suffice for China. This assumption no longer holds. As two senior Biden administration officials responsible for nuclear strategy observed in 2025, “After decades of maintaining only a minimal nuclear capability, China is on pace to nearly quintuple its 2019 stockpile of some 300 nuclear warheads by 2035, in a quest to attain an arsenal equivalent in strength to Russia’s and the United States.’”9 China’s growth places greater demands on the US nuclear force, due not only to the anticipated size of its future arsenal but also to the quandaries it presents for US military planners who must account for crisis or potential conflict with more than one nuclear adversary.

Third, in 2010 the Obama administration still harbored hopes of negotiating a denuclearization pathway with North Korea regarding its then nascent nuclear program. By the mid-2000s, however, North Korea was already pursuing a breakout capability intended to “directly hold the United States at risk.”10 Today, North Korea possesses a more robust nuclear arsenal capable of striking the United States and its regional allies.11 In fact, to date, the second Trump administration has not restated the 2018 policy (later adopted by the Biden administration) that any North Korean nuclear use would lead to the end of the Kim Jong-Un regime. This omission might reflect a reassessment of that policy’s feasibility in light of North Korea’s expanding capabilities.12

Fourth, in 2010 there was little apparent evidence of cooperation among rogue or revisionist actors. Today, such cooperation, if not outright coordination, is evident.“13 Few in 2010 would have envisioned North Korean soldiers fighting in Ukraine on Russia’s behalf.14 It would be dangerously naïve to assume conflict with one adversary would not elicit support from one or more of the others, whether direct or indirect. Simply put, Russia, China, and North Korea all being armed with nuclear weapons means that any crisis or conflict with one risks a nuclear crisis or conflict with one or both of the others. Credibly deterring all three—even if engaged in conflict with only one—requires a force larger than NST permitted and that is tailored to the distinct deterrence and targeting requirements for each.

Fifth, while NST only addressed strategic systems, the urgent need for the United States to develop and field theater-focused capabilities (so-called non-strategic or theater nuclear weapons) was a reason to allow NST to expire. Russia possesses a far larger theater-focused arsenal than the United States, a disparity NST did nothing to mitigate.15 Other adversaries similarly see value in developing and fielding such capabilities.16 While the United States is beginning to address this gap by developing a nuclear-armed sea-launched cruise missile, that system remains a decade away and is likely insufficient by itself. Moving beyond NST allows the United States to field additional strategic capabilities to help offset this imbalance, even if imperfectly.

In short, NST was “the wrong treaty for the current time.” Getting out from under its constraints will enable the United States to prepare in earnest for contemporary deterrence challenges—focusing not only on numbers, but on the force attributes required for credible and effective deterrence against a diverse group of nuclear-armed adversaries.17

The current US strategic nuclear force is inadequate

The ability to deter an adversary from taking extreme actions is not simply a matter of having a nuclear weapon that can be delivered to a target. As a senior US Strategic Command deterrence thinker has observed, deterrence is “an intentional act or set of actions aimed to influence adversaries’ decision-making, so that [they] choose restraint over aggression.”18 Because deterrence is directed at a decision-maker’s perceptions, deterrence planners “must assess our capabilities relative to the doctrine, exercises, statements, threats and behavior of potential adversaries.”19 In other words, the United States must be able to influence different adversaries differently. This approach requires maintaining tailored and flexible strategies, plans, and capabilities that can be leveraged effectively across a spectrum of adversaries and contexts. Simply retaining a force structured and sized consistent with NST would limit this flexibility in important ways.

First, US nuclear forces must be able to support multiple objectives depending on circumstances presented. While there are different ways to articulate these requirements, they generally include:

  • deterring an adversary from initiating a nuclear attack;
  • deterring further use if nuclear weapons have already been employed;
  • and rendering an adversary incapable of continuing large-scale nuclear strikes.20

A force capable of achieving all this requires flexibility and options. This is not a new concept. As the secretary of defense’s fiscal year 1975 annual report noted, to be “credible and hence effective over the range of possible contingencies deterrence must rest on many options and on a spectrum of capabilities . . . to support these options.”21 This requires the ability to apply the right force at the right time against the right target or set of targets, consistent with policy guidance and the law of armed conflict.

Numerous factors go into determining how best to service a particular target with a nuclear weapon, factors that multiply with a large adversary target base.22 In a simpler two-party context, planners must carefully examine the resources at their disposal and the characteristics of the specific targets identified to develop specific approaches to meet national objectives.23 But all US nuclear weapons are not interchangeable. Among other factors, planners must consider the types of weapons available, the phase of conflict for which they are needed, their flight characteristics, their yield, their range, their time to target, the desired effect on a particular target, and long-standing policy guidance to achieve objectives at the lowest level of damage possible and to minimize unintended effects. Today and in the coming years, moreover, they need to make such plans recognizing that other nuclear-armed adversaries might be poised to exploit US distraction to pursue their own geopolitical objectives.

A nuclear force constrained in size and composition by a 2010-era treaty does not provide sufficient flexibility to effectively manage these factors across all potential adversaries. As an example, intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) are viewed as the most prompt US capability. But the need for prompt options applies to each US nuclear-armed adversary, and the United States might need to retain such prompt options for other targeting priorities that might arise as a contingency unfolds. In this context, targets that require prompt options could exceed the number of ICBMs available. Similarly, efforts to avoid overflight of one nuclear-armed state while striking another can further restrict ICBM options, increasing escalation risk or undermining mission success.

Other examples include yield and range. Policy directs achieving objectives at the lowest level of damage possible. But if only higher-yield weapons are available to the president at a given stage of conflict, presidential options narrow and escalation risks rise. Simply uploading additional warheads onto existing or future delivery systems like Minuteman III or Sentinel, moreover, is not a panacea, as increased payloads can impose range restrictions that reduce flexibility and further constrain planners.24

Given considerations such as these, force adequacy cannot be measured by aggregate numbers alone. Even if the total number of delivery systems and warheads is numerically sufficient on paper to service the required targets, a force constrained by the legacy NST structure would leave little ability to offer the president meaningful options for a force that must be postured to manage a multiple adversary environment. In practice, when facing such an expanded target base, there might be only one or two approaches to a given target set, especially when facing simultaneous or sequential crises or conflicts, sharply constraining presidential decision space.

Second, the US nuclear force must account for operational limitations. For example, analyses that cite bomber payload capacity often ignore attrition that is inevitable in a high-intensity conventional conflict.25 Whether B-52s, B-2s, or B-21s, some will be destroyed while flying conventional missions, bringing into question how many will be available if and when strategic bomber strikes are needed.26 Losses to bombers or critical enablers such as aerial refueling tankers could significantly reduce available nuclear options. Similarly, ballistic missile submarines must periodically return to port for replenishment, and strategic bombers cannot remain on alert indefinitely.27 Moreover, emerging threats spanning from quantum sensing to unmanned systems could further affect availability of strategic platforms in unknown ways.28 Advocates of a size-constrained force often overlook these risks.

Third, simultaneous or sequential crises dramatically increase complexity. Planners might be required to generate deterrence options across multiple theaters at distinct stages of conflict in support of different political and military objectives, and against adversaries that might be coordinating their actions.

Complexity grows as the number of strategic adversaries increases, their level of coordination deepens, and the range of their escalation options expands. In crisis or conflict, this complexity manifests as a high level of uncertainty regarding potential escalation pathways that the United States must consider and seek to influence.29

Further, this complexity can evolve over multiple pathways. Deterrence requirements will differ markedly depending on whether a crisis or conflict originates with Russia, China, or North Korea. Where and against whom a crisis begins will impact the mix of capabilities upon which the United States will lean most heavily because US plans necessarily rely on different mixes of capabilities in each case to deter or to achieve objectives.

What should US strategic force posture look like?

The United States does not need a force equal to the combined arsenals of Russia and China. And China’s nuclear growth alone should not dictate US posture. Rather, a decision on the precise nuclear force mix “will depend largely on the choices adversaries make and on how much risk a president is willing to accept in both the most plausible and worst-case nuclear scenarios.”30

So far, the Trump Administration has not directly addressed nuclear force size. The NDS signals an intent to “adapt [US] nuclear forces,”31 and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth has similarly pledged to develop “additional options” to support deterrence and escalation management.32 While these statements suggest an openness to nuclear force expansion, it is impossible to divine the Trump administration’s intent at this time.

In the absence of more detail, the administration could be guided in future posture decisions by recommendations from the 2023 Strategic Posture Commission and other commentators, pursuing options in the short-term that include: uploading additional warheads on ICBMs and submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs); reopening SLBM tubes that were capped as part of NST; and restoring nuclear capability to the full B-52 fleet.33 Retaining a number of Ohio-class ballistic missile submarines as long as technically and operationally feasible could also help, as could potentially re-operationalizing and loading the 50 ICBM silos that were taken offline as part of NST. In the medium and longer-term, accelerating the nuclear modernization program of record where possible and, eventually, increasing the number of new systems fielded as part of the modernization program would also provide opportunities to increase flexibility.

Of these options, the precise mix will ultimately be determined by Trump administration and military officials based upon classified analysis.34Still, the foregoing considerations indicate the need for a force exceeding that previously permitted by NST—an operationally relevant force that is large and flexible enough to influence adversary decision-making at all stages of crisis and conflict, and that is capable of achieving national objectives against more than one nuclear adversary if it becomes necessary.

Specific posture decisions regarding each triad leg bring with them multiple variables that make direct comparisons difficult.35 Still, given the current trajectory of adversary nuclear force developments, a US strategic deterrent capable of delivering of roughly 2,400 operationally deployed warheads in the near term should be large and flexible enough to meet US strategy requirements.36 These increases should be spread across all three triad legs, further diversifying the weapons and delivery platforms available to planners – and to the president – when confronting potential crisis or conflict in today’s multiple adversary environment.37

This posture would ensure the United States retains a capability, if needed, to target either Russian or Chinese nuclear forces and have a credible capacity available to deter or if necessary achieve national objectives against the other; provide the president more options to deal with multiple adversaries in simultaneous or sequential contingencies, thereby expanding decision space and increasing his ability to manage escalation; account for potential attrition to US nuclear forces in conflict; and provide the capability to deal with North Korea should that threat manifest, either before or during a crisis or conflict with a peer or near-peer adversary.

This uptick would represent a reasonable increase over NST levels and would set the stage for a more comprehensive assessment of US nuclear capabilities in the longer-term—whether less capability is needed as Russia and China show interest in meaningful arms control engagement, or more is needed if the security environment fails to improve. But today, arbitrarily adhering to limits designed for a different time and a different security environment is not in the US national interest and would stand in the way of fielding the force necessary to maintain credible and effective deterrence.

It’s not 2010 anymore


US strategic nuclear force levels that made sense in 2010 no longer suffice in 2026. The challenges facing planners today are more diverse and complex—and will only grow more so. To maintain credible deterrence, the United States must be able to deter and must be more capable of achieving national objectives against each nuclear-armed adversary individually or in combination, in both simultaneous and sequential scenarios. A force constrained by legacy NST decisions risks undermining that capacity and inviting the very conflicts US nuclear forces are intended to deter. A larger, more diverse force than the United States fields today is needed to afford the nation the flexibility it needs to maintain credible and effective deterrence in the coming years.

This issue brief is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s Great nuclear debate series, a curated anthology of perspectives on arms control, force sizing, and missile defense from leading experts.

About the author

explore the program

Forward Defense leads the Atlantic Council’s US and global defense programming, developing actionable recommendations for the United States and its allies and partners to compete, innovate, and navigate the rapidly evolving character of warfare. Through its work on US defense policy and force design, the military applications of advanced technology, space security, strategic deterrence, and defense industrial revitalization, it informs the strategies, policies, and capabilities that the United States will need to deter, and, if necessary, prevail in major-power conflict.

1    U.S. Department of Defense, 2026 National Defense Strategy of the United States of America (Washington, DC: Department of Defense, January 23, 2026), https://media.defense.gov/2026/Jan/23/2003864773/-1/-1/0/2026-NATIONAL-DEFENSE-STRATEGY.PDF.
2    Mark Trevelyan, “Explainer: What Is the New START Nuclear Treaty and Why Does Its Expiry Matter?” Reuters, January 30, 2026, https://www.reuters.com/world/what-is-new-start-nuclear-treaty-why-does-its-expiry-matter-2026-01-30/.
3    Rose Gottemoeller, “Testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on an ‘Arms Race 2.0,’”US Senate, December 10, 2025, https://www.foreign.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/f44409cc-cc99-f286-066b-1283777d682b/121025_Gottemoeller_Testimony.pdf.
4    “Expiration of US-Russia Agreement Could Trigger Rapid, Dangerous Nuclear Arms Race, New Report Warns,”Union of Concerned Scientists, January 12, 2026, https://www.ucs.org/about/news/nuclear-agreement-expiration-could-trigger-rapid-arms-race.
5    Kingston Reif, “Earlier this month Sam Charap and I published an op-ed on where the United States and Russia should try to go on arms control in the near-term. Among our recs: the sides should agree on a…” LinkedIn, June 15, 2025, https://www.linkedin.com/posts/kingston-reif-982a2053_earlier-this-month-sam-charap-and-i-published-activity-7340111754321944576-UrkW?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop&rcm=ACoAAAFRSmgBZ9X59om6OMkni6whIn4mpEHSAHQ.
6    Each president has historically provided classified guidance to the Department of Defense on his nuclear employment objectives, referred to herein as national objectives. As one commentator points out, historically unclassified or previously declassified literature suggests four such objectives. Pat McKenna, “Counterforce Strategy versus Counterforce Targeting” in Brad Roberts, ed., “Counterforce in Contemporary US Strategy,” Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, May 2025, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2025-05/2025-0529-CGSR-Occasional-Paper-Counterforce-In-Contemporary-US-Nuclear-Strategy.pdf. Three of those objectives are the focus of this article. The fourth, according to McKenna, is “managing risks that are inherent to a highly dynamic geopolitical environment.”
7    Reid J. Epstein, “Kerry: Russia Behaving Like It’s the 19th Century,” Politico, March 2, 2014, https://www.politico.com/blogs/politico-now/2014/03/kerry-russia-behaving-like-its-the-19th-century-184280.
8    Alexander Smith, “Trump Calls Russia’s Missile Test ‘Inappropriate’—But Is Putin’s Nuclear-Powered Weapon Actually a Threat?” NBC News, October 27, 2025, https://www.nbcnews.com/world/russia/russia-burevestnik-missile-trump-putin-test-inappropriate-ukraine-rcna239984.
9    Vipin Narang and Pranay Vaddi, “How to Survive the New Nuclear Age: National Security in a World of Proliferating Risks and Eroding Constraints,” Foreign Affairs, July/August 2025, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/united-states/how-survive-new-nuclear-age-narang-vaddi.
10    “North Korea Military Power: A Growing Regional and Global Threat,” Defense Intelligence Agency, October 15, 2021, https://www.dia.mil/Portals/110/Documents/News/NKMP.pdf.
11    Daniel M. Gettinger and Mary Beth Nikitin, “North Korea’s Nuclear Weapons and Missile Programs,” Congressional Research Service, September 26, 2025, https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/IF10472.
12    Paul Amato, “Unsettling Allies, Emboldening Pyongyang,” RealClearDefense, January 29, 2026, https://www.realcleardefense.com/articles/2026/01/29/unsettling_allies_emboldening_pyongyang_1161599.html
13    2025 Worldwide Threat Assessment: Report to the United States House of Representatives Arms Services Subcommittee on Intelligence and Special Operations,” Defense Intelligence Agency, March 25, 2025, https://armedservices.house.gov/uploadedfiles/2025_dia_statement_for_the_record.pdf?utm_source; Amy Hawkins, Andrew Roth, and Helen Davidson, “Xi, Putin, Kim and the Optics of a New World Order,” Guardian, September 6, 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/news/ng-interactive/2025/sep/06/xi-jinping-vladimir-putin-kim-jong-un-optics-new-world-order.
14    Jared Martin, “The Second North Korean Wave in Ukraine: What Next as Pyongyang’s Troops Arrive on Russia’s Front Lines?” Modern War Institute, August 8, 2025, https://mwi.westpoint.edu/the-second-north-korean-wave-in-ukraine-what-next-as-pyongyangs-troops-arrive-on-russias-front-lines.
15    2024—Report to the Senate on the Status of Tactical (Nonstrategic) Nuclear Weapons Negotiations Pursuant to Subparagraph (a)(12)(B) of the Senate Resolution of Advice and Consent to Ratification of the New START Treaty,” US Department of State, February 25, 2025, https://www.state.gov/2024-report-to-the-senate-on-the-status-of-tactical-nonstrategic-nuclear-weapons-negotiations-pursuant-to-subparagraph-a12b-of-the-senate-resolution-of-advice-and-consent-to-ratification-of/.
16    “Annual Report to Congress: Military and Security Developments Involving the People’s Republic of China 2025,” US Department of Defense, December 23, 2025, https://media.defense.gov/2025/Dec/23/2003849070/-1/-1/1/ANNUAL-REPORT-TO-CONGRESS-MILITARY-AND-SECURITY-DEVELOPMENTS-INVOLVING-THE-PEOPLES-REPUBLIC-OF-CHINA-2025.PDF. (“The PLA is probably pursuing nuclear weapons with yields below 10 kilotons. Such weapons address long-held PLA desires to be able to conduct limited nuclear counterstrikes against military targets and control nuclear escalation.”)
17    Eric S. Edelman and Franklin C. Miller, “No New START: Renewing the U.S.-Russian Deal Won’t Solve Today’s Nuclear Dilemmas, Foreign Affairs, June 3, 2025, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/united-states/no-new-start.
18    Kayse Jansen, “New Strategic Deterrence Frameworks for Modern-Day Challenges,” Joint Force Quarterly 112, January 2024, https://digitalcommons.ndu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1029&context=joint-force-quarterlyhttps://digitalcommons.ndu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1029&context=joint-force-quarterly.
19    Terri Moon Cronk, “Policy Official: Posture Review Emphasizes Capabilities, Deters Use of Nukes,” US Department of Defense, February 16, 2018, https://www.war.gov/News/News-Stories/Article/Article/1444722/policy-official-posture-review-emphasizes-capabilities-deters-use-of-nukes/.
20    See, for example: McKenna, “Counterforce Strategy versus Counterforce Targeting.” Greg Weaver, “Alternative Deterrence Strategies for a Two-Peer Environment,” in Roberts, “Counterforce in Contemporary US Strategy,” describes different US historical objectives for deterrence, assurance, and achieving objectives if deterrence fails. See: Jansen, “New Strategic Deterrence Frameworks for Modern-Day Challenges.”
21    “Annual Defense Department Report: FY 1975,” US Department of Defense, March 4, 1974, 38, https://history.defense.gov/Portals/70/Documents/annual_reports/1975_DoD_AR.pdf.
22    Michael Elliot, “Turning Presidential Guidance into Nuclear Operational Plans“ in Charles Glaser, Austin Long, and Brian Radzinsky, eds.,“Managing US Nuclear Operations in the 21st Century,” (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2022), https://www.brookings.edu/books/managing-u-s-nuclear-operations-in-the-21st-century/.
23    Ibid.
24    That is, ballistic missiles that are deployed with multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles.
25    Col Mark A. Gunzinger, USAF (Ret.), “The B-21 Bomber: A Cost-effective Deterrent for a Multi-polar World,” Mitchell Institute, September 2024, https://www.mitchellaerospacepower.org/app/uploads/2024/09/The-B-21-Bomber-A-Cost-effective-Deterrent-FINAL.pdf.
26    Northrop Grumman corporation, the maker of the B-2 and B-21 bombers, is a sponsor of the Atlantic Council’s work on strategic forces issues.
27    “Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarines—SSBN,” US Navy, last updated February 27, 2025, https://www.navy.mil/Resources/Fact-Files/Display-FactFiles/Article/2169580/fleet-ballistic-missile-submarines-ssbn/; Oriana Pawlyk, “Putting Nuclear Bombers Back on 24-Hour Alert Would Exhaust the Force, General Says,” Military.com, April 22, 2021, https://www.military.com/daily-news/2021/04/22/putting-nuclear-bombers-back-24-hour-alert-would-exhaust-force-general-says.html.
28    Paul Amato, “In Defense of the US Maintaining a Balanced Nuclear Triad,” Atlantic Council, September 29, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/in-defense-of-the-us-maintaining-a-balanced-nuclear-triad/.
29    Jansen, “New Strategic Deterrence Frameworks for Modern-Day Challenges.”
30    Narang and Vaddi, “How to Survive the New Nuclear Age;” Edelman and Miller, “No New START.”
31    U.S. Department of Defense, 2026 National Defense Strategy of the United States of America.
32    “Remarks by Secretary of War Pete Hegseth at the Reagan National Defense Forum (As Delivered),” US Department of Defense, December 6, 2025, https://www.war.gov/News/Speeches/Speech/Article/4354431/remarks-by-secretary-of-war-pete-hegseth-at-the-reagan-national-defense-forum-a/.
33    Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States, America’s Strategic Posture: The Final Report of the Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States (Washington, DC, October 2023), https://ida.org/-/media/feature/publications/A/Am/Americas%20Strategic%20Posture/Strategic-Posture-Commission-Report.pdf; Narang and Vaddi, “How to Survive the New Nuclear Age”; Edelman and Miller, “No New START
34    Admiral Charles Richard, USN (Ret.), Hon. Franklin C. Miller, and Robert Peters, “Nuclear Deterrence vs Nuclear Warfighting: Is There a Difference and Does it Matter?” National Institute for Public Policy, April 15, 2025, https://nipp.org/information_series/admiral-charles-richard-usn-ret-hon-franklin-c-miller-and-robert-peters-nuclear-deterrence-vs-nuclear-warfighting-is-there-a-difference-and-does-it-matter-no-623-april-15-2025.
35    For example, the number of warheads that are available to be delivered by US SSBNs is a function of how many boats are operational; how many are at sea at a given time, how many operational launch tubes are available, and MIRV configuration.
36    This estimate draws from public sources. See Hans M. Kristensen, MattKorda, Eliana Johns, and Mackenzie Knight, “United States nuclear weapons, 2025.” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, January 13, 2025, https://doi.org/10.1080/00963402.2024.2441624. This estimate uses NST bomber counting rules (~60 airframes); a rough doubling of deployed ICBM warheads (~900 total); and a one-third increase in SLBM warheads (~1440 total), the latter two of these deployed on either the existing or an expanded number of delivery platforms.
37    To this end, the Joint Staff and USSTRATCOM in conjunction with policy makers will need to assess the optimal mix of platforms and warheads to maximize the necessary flexibility and operational relevance.

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After Maduro: Latin America’s policy community reassesses the US-China balance https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/after-maduro-latin-americas-policy-community-reassesses-the-us-china-balance/ Thu, 26 Mar 2026 15:39:53 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=914961 The US capture of Maduro has significant implications for China’s position in the region. Although Venezuela has been a frustrating partner for China, Beijing has repeatedly stressed its commitment to the bilateral relationship.

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The US capture of President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, coupled with the support the White House has given Maduro’s successors, has significant implications for China’s position in the region. Although Venezuela has been a frustrating partner for China—largely due to prolonged debt repayment delays and corruption-marred joint projects—Beijing has repeatedly stressed its commitment to the bilateral relationship. The day before Maduro’s capture, China’s special envoy for Latin American affairs, Qiu Xiaoqi, visited Miraflores Palace to review more than six hundred bilateral agreements and to express support for the regime amid US operations against Venezuela-linked oil tankers.

Although Maduro has been removed from office, his second-in-command Delcy Rodríguez now leads the same regime, prompting a recalibration of how China’s key bilateral relationships in the hemisphere are understood in light of US intervention in Venezuela. This piece examines whether Latin American policymakers and analysts view China’s reaction to Maduro’s ouster as evidence of a shift in Beijing’s regional diplomatic strategy—and whether this episode is influencing how other countries in the region weigh their US–China relationships.

We interviewed thirteen influential sources across diplomatic, military, and academic circles in Brazil, Colombia, Argentina, and the Dominican Republic, spanning a wide range of political perspectives. While this is by no means a representative sample, respondents with different political views were aligned on key aspects of the new playing field in Latin America as it relates to both China and the United States.

After providing a general overview of how US and Chinese actions are interpreted across the region, we turn to Brazil, China’s largest trading partner in the region, and Colombia, the country most directly affected by developments in Venezuela.

Latin America feels a seismic shift

Most of our sources, both left and right leaning, agree the US intervention in Venezuela is a game changer and it will likely modify the power dynamics in the region. They see it as a hard blow to China and a strengthening of US influence in Latin America. For example, Ernesto Samper, former president of Colombia (1994–1998) and former secretary general of the Union of South American Nations (UNASUR, 2014–2017)—who has been close to the region’s left-wing leaders—doesn’t believe the US intervention in Venezuela was meant to combat drug trafficking or strengthen access to oil revenues. Instead, he sees it as a geopolitical strategy. The intervention represents an attempt to weaken alliances between Latin American governments and external powers, particularly China. The objective is to consolidate what might be termed a Monroe Doctrine 2.0, reasserting US hegemonic control over Latin America. Venezuela is a symbolic target in a wider approach that seeks to assert regional dominance in the face of China’s growing influence. “This catches the Latin American region in its worst moment. We had never been so disconnected,” Samper said. “We’re very divided because part of [Donald] Trump’s diplomacy is not having relations with states, but with governments.”

Yet Samper warns against reading this rapprochement as a definitive realignment. Chinese economic penetration in Latin America, he argues, has already reached a point of near irreversibility—China is now the primary trading partner for most South American countries, and its infrastructure investments are deeply embedded in the region’s development strategies. For most major Latin American economies, China is either the largest or second-largest trading partner. The United States doesn’t have the capacity to replace China economically in the region. “The Chinese have a lot of experience in something Trump simply does not have, which is patience,” Samper said. “And I believe they have been penetrating Latin America to the point where those advances should be considered irreversible.”

Carlos Calderón, researcher and defense expert at the military-run Colombian War College, whose views are more aligned with the center-right than Samper’s, nonetheless has a similar take: “‘Operation Southern Spear’ and Maduro’s capture, ‘Operation Absolute Resolve,’ no doubt send tectonic waves throughout the region, and are meant to signal the United States is back and wants to have a stronger influence than China in the region. Events are too recent to say that Latin American countries are reorienting their relations with China, but I’d say it’s very likely that relations with China will be restructured.”

Behind closed doors, according to Calderón, military leaders in Colombia and neighboring countries that struggle with organized crime networks are welcoming the change in US tactics—not necessarily because they agree that operations such as blowing up drug boats in the Caribbean and Pacific are appropriate, but because they signal what they feel was a needed change in the status quo. They welcome a United States that is more assertive regarding its military presence in the region. “Behind closed doors, military leaders are glad about Operation Southern Spear,” Calderón said. “They wanted a government, either Democrat or Republican, that doesn’t matter to them, that would kick the chess board, so to speak. We’ve been at that [war on drugs] two decades and no pieces have been moved, then we need a reset. Sometimes you have to introduce a little bit of chaos to make a situation more dynamic.”

As the United States assumes this hard-power stance, China’s lack of such power is starker. Maurício Santoro, a political scientist specializing in Brazil–China relations, said the US operation in Venezuela revealed China has limited capabilities when projecting military power in the Western Hemisphere. China is economically vital to Latin America but is not a strong and effective military actor in the region.

A senior Brazilian source familiar with the matter, who asked to remain anonymous, said Chinese officials had privately expressed concern about how the lack of a Chinese military response after Maduro’s removal might be interpreted in Latin America. According to this source, Chinese officials asked whether the region would view China as weak or unable to defend its political partners against unilateral US actions.

Paulo Filho, a retired Brazilian Army colonel who holds a master’s degree in defense and strategy studies from China’s National Defense University, said China’s leadership is still “learning how to be a superpower” in the sense of projecting power beyond its traditional zone of influence. Retired Colonel Rafael Almeida, who is also a graduate of China’s National Defense University, said that the crisis had produced a “reality check” for the region. He summed this up in a single phrase: “China is economically indispensable, but the United States remains politically central.” Almeida also said the episode stressed the urgency of reassessing security concerns and drove home the idea that aligning with either the United States or China has become dangerous and strategically costly.

Caribbean observers, in the meantime, have their eyes on Cuba and are anxious to determine if there will be a domino effect that will cause the decades-long communist regime to follow a path similar to that of Venezuela. “Dominicans are hopeful that Cuba will have a similar outcome for the best, and that Venezuela’s developments lead to improvements,” said Campos de Moya, former assistant to the vice president of the Dominican Republic and former ambassador assigned to the Foreign Ministry. “There are some voices that don’t agree with this view, but the way the situation has unfolded leads most Dominicans, politicians and business leaders, to support what the US is doing in Venezuela and Cuba.”

De Moya says there were concerns in the region that US action against Venezuela and Cuba could spark a wider military conflict with China and Russia, but recent developments signal that won’t happen. He further suggests it’s a good moment for the United States to pressure the Dominican Republic to flip its diplomatic recognition once again from China to Taiwan. “The business community in the Dominican Republic is very upset with China and everything is in place for the country to step back from that relationship,” de Moya said. “The possibility of flipping back to Taiwan is even stronger now.”

One of our few sources who had a different view and didn’t believe the US removal of Maduro is a game changer for regional diplomatic relations was Ricardo Ferrer, fellow at the Center for Secure Free Society and former national director of criminal intelligence for the right-wing Javier Milei government in Argentina. Ferrer doesn’t think China’s position in Venezuela has meaningfully weakened because Beijing’s influence is structural. Ferrer notes that China’s influence in Venezuela is rooted in telecommunications, digital governance, logistics, data systems, and opaque contracts that persist across leadership changes. As an example, he cited Huawei’s extensive role in telecom infrastructure and ZTE-linked databases tied to citizens’ IDs as forms of durable leverage that shape political control through technology. He thinks China’s muted response follows its long-standing strategy toward the hemisphere: avoid direct security competition with the United States while maintaining embedded commercial and infrastructural influence. “There is absolutely no sign of a decline in Chinese influence, which in Venezuela is not solely determined by the economic situation,” Ferrer said.

Brazil: Adapting to a new context and diversifying

Brazil publicly condemned the bombings of alleged drug boats and Maduro’s removal through an official statement that characterized the US action as a “grave affront to Venezuela’s sovereignty,” a highly dangerous precedent, and a violation of international law that threatens Latin America’s long-standing aspiration to remain a “zone of peace.” President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva echoed this position on social media, calling the events unacceptable and urging a robust response through the United Nations. Collectively, these messages reaffirm Brazil’s emphasis on multilateralism and the principle of non-intervention.

Some recent Lula administration initiatives suggest defense issues are garnering greater attention—at least behind the scenes—following the Venezuelan crisis. This has prompted discussions on budget strengthening, deterrence stances, and expanding the institutional role of the armed forces in Brazil’s national strategy. According to high-level sources, the crisis and the volatile regional environment have emphasized the need to strengthen defense capacities.

Rather than a departure from the country’s diplomacy-first tradition, Brazilian decision-makers are framing this readjustment as an adaptation to a new era of major-power competition in which non-intervention norms are weakened. The US operation has renewed fears that it will apply intervention and unilateral coercion whenever its interests are at stake.

The context of the US intervention also caught Brazil in a sensitive position. Brazil had just resolved its own dispute with the Trump administration, which began on April 2, 2025, when Trump imposed a 50-percent tariff on Brazilian imports in retaliation for the prosecution of his political ally, former President Jair Bolsonaro, over an attempted coup d’etat. The tariffs were suspended on November 14, 2025, after several rounds of diplomatic negotiations.

Against this backdrop, Brazil and the European Union (EU) formally signed the EU–Mercosur agreement on January 17, 2026, concluding more than two decades of negotiations. The agreement, which will need ratification by the European Parliament and national legislatures before entering into force, is described as creating one of the world’s largest bilateral free trade areas, covering roughly 700 million consumers and giving Brasília an additional avenue to diversify trade and investment partners amid heightened uncertainty. The timing suggests an effort to increase economic resilience and reduce strategic vulnerability by deepening ties with other players besides the United States and China.

Colombia: Getting closer to the United States

Colombia’s Ministry of Foreign Relations rejected US military intervention in Venezuela and issued a statement that echoed Brazil’s stance, describing the intervention as “actions that have placed at risk the territorial integrity and political autonomy of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela.” It called for the issue to be taken to the UN Security Council and treated multilaterally. The day of the attack, the Colombian government also sent thirty thousand troops to patrol the border at several crossings, from northern Guajira to Arauca.

In the days following the capture of Maduro, President Gustavo Petro—whose left-wing politics are aligned with Lula’s—received threats from Trump, who hinted at conducting a similar operation in Colombia. As part of a deescalation approach, Petro sought an urgent one-on-one meeting with Trump in the White House to discuss the US intervention, oversight of Venezuela, and the role Colombia could play, signaling Colombia was willing to work with the United States.

No press was allowed in the room but statements from each side offer a glimpse into the conversation. Petro said they discussed counternarcotics operations targeting transnational kingpins (and that he gave Trump a list of names), skepticism toward the effectiveness of sanctions against Venezuela, ways to reactivate the Venezuelan economy (including energy projects), having the United States mediate tensions between Colombia and Ecuador’s President Daniel Noboa, declassifying US intelligence related to violence in Colombia, and diplomatic optics such as inviting Trump to Cartagena and reframing Trump’s slogan as “Make the Americas Great Again.” Trump and the White House said the meeting went well, emphasized counternarcotics cooperation as the main focus, and characterized Trump’s approach as preferring diplomacy.

The rapprochement follows a deeply confrontational 2025 between Trump and Petro. In September, the Colombian president’s US visa was revoked, and in October, he and several members of his family were placed under Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) sanctions, despite the absence of any US indictments against them. According to Calderón, one objective of the visit was to persuade Trump to lift those sanctions before Petro leaves office in August. Securing their removal would not only ease personal and political constraints on Petro’s final months in power but also signal a partial normalization of bilateral relations after a year marked by open hostility.

Although the immediate outcome of the US intervention in Venezuela has been a reset in US–Colombia relations, Calderón also noted that, in recent years, the Colombian military has felt a need to diversify its partnerships, including in security cooperation and arms procurement. “We can’t help but see that countries such as Brazil and Peru cooperate tightly with the US, but that doesn’t stop them from also talking and establishing security relations with China or Russia . . . They buy Chinese aircraft and Russian helicopters,” Calderón said.

The end of strategic ambiguity

The removal of Maduro should not be read primarily as a Venezuelan event, nor as a narrow bilateral episode between Washington and Caracas. It was a stress test that clarified the real distribution of power in the hemisphere.

On one hand, the episode exposed the asymmetry that has long structured great-power competition in Latin America. The United States retains escalation dominance and the capacity to shape outcomes through force, while China’s influence remains concentrated in finance, infrastructure, trade, and institutional penetration rather than in deterrence. On the other hand, Maduro’s ouster does not signal the collapse of Chinese influence in the region. It reveals the limits of China’s ability to translate rhetorical commitments about sovereignty into material responses when confronted with hard-power realities. What unfolded was not the unraveling of China’s regional presence, but a clarification of its priorities, its risk tolerance, and the boundaries of its foreign policy reach in the Western Hemisphere.

The operation also clarifies that China’s preferred tools of influence are largely irrelevant in moments of kinetic disruption in the region. Years of loans, political backing, diplomatic cover, and rhetorical alignment did not translate into leverage when the core issue became one of coercive force. This matters because much of the current debate on foreign influence assumes a continuity between influence and power. Venezuela shows that this continuity breaks down under pressure.

Latin America’s apparent conditional tolerance of US intervention does not stem from ideological realignment with Washington, but from exhaustion. The United States had not carried out an overt military intervention in South America in modern times, and the last comparable interventions in the hemisphere occurred more than three decades ago in much smaller Central American and Caribbean states. Given the region’s long historical memory of US interference, one would have expected sharp and unified backlash. Instead, the reaction has been restrained and, in some cases, openly appreciative. That alone signals how disruptive Venezuela had become.

Maduro was no longer simply an authoritarian outlier. Venezuela had turned into a sustained source of regional instability, driving mass migration, facilitating organized crime networks, and deepening cross-border insecurity. Even governments publicly critical of US power were privately aware that the status quo had become untenable. The controlled response to Washington’s action reflects a hierarchy of priorities that has become harder to ignore.

Economic development remains central, and this is where China’s role is most visible. But dealing with migration pressures, drug trafficking, transnational criminal networks, and border security have become immediate political imperatives. In those domains, cooperation with the United States remains indispensable. The convergence of security interests that emerged around Maduro’s removal is therefore significant, but it is also narrow and contingent. It reveals less about renewed faith in US leadership than about the degree to which Venezuela had become a destabilizing force that governments felt unable to manage on their own.

If Washington interprets this moment as a blank check and settles for stability without democratic transition, it risks reinforcing long-standing suspicions that intervention is primarily driven by hegemonic control. Removing a destabilizing authoritarian is not the same as resolving the conditions that produced him. The strategic window created by January 3 is real, but it is not self-sustaining.

Lastly, China is unlikely to retreat from the region. It will adapt, recalibrate risk, and continue expanding where economic statecraft remains effective. The competition is now clearer. The United States demonstrated that it retains coercive primacy in the hemisphere. China demonstrated the limits of its willingness to contest it. Latin America is left navigating a landscape in which the space for ambiguity has narrowed and the costs of miscalculation have grown.

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Negotiating an EU-US biometric information-sharing agreement https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/negotiating-an-eu-us-biometric-information-sharing-agreement/ Wed, 25 Mar 2026 18:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=914674 Amid tensions between the US and Europe over trade, tech, and now the war in Iran, Washington and Brussels are negotiating over the US Department of Homeland Security’s request for access to European biometric data. What does each side want—and what is achievable?

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Bottom lines up front

  • The US and EU are negotiating a biometric data-sharing agreement to allow DHS access to EU member states’ fingerprint and other biometric databases.
  • The EU has never before agreed to provide a non-EU country large-scale access to Europeans’ personal data for purposes of the foreign country’s border security.
  • The EU aims to secure limits on bulk data collection, human oversight of automated decisions, and reciprocal access to US databases.

The Trump administration has taken adversarial and unconventional approaches with European allies on subjects ranging from trade to content moderation, but in another important area the United States is proceeding more traditionally. The subject is politically controversial: biometric information sharing for purposes of border security. In late January, European Union officials flew to Washington to start low-key formal talks with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) aimed at an international agreement. Despite the sensitive nature of the endeavor, EU member states and the European Data Protection Supervisor have endorsed it. 

Why is the United States taking a consensual approach with Europe on border security information sharing, and why is the European Union so far willing to accommodate? Why is this agreement on a fast track in Washington and Brussels when law enforcement initiatives such as the projected EU-US CLOUD Agreement have been paused by the Trump administration? Is the border security information-sharing effort a one-off or could it be a harbinger of a return to traditional transatlantic legal diplomacy?

DHS seeks enhanced border security partnerships

DHS operates an international biometric information-sharing program to assist in “assessing the eligibility or public security risk of individuals seeking an immigration benefit or encountered in the context of a border encounter or law enforcement investigation related to immigration or border security issues,” according to the department’s privacy impact assessment (PIA). The program entails “automatic comparison of the fingerprints collected by DHS or a foreign partner on international travelers, suspected criminals, asylum seekers, irregular migrants, refugees, [and] applicants for visa and/or immigration benefits,” the PIA states. Biometric identifiers potentially include facial and iris scans and DNA, as well as traditional fingerprints.

In 2022, DHS decided that all forty-three countries that benefit from visa-free entry to the United States through the Visa Waiver Program (VWP) must conclude agreements, dubbed enhanced border security partnerships (EBSP), enabling DHS to screen their biometric records for immigration or border security purposes. When DHS queries a name against a foreign state’s identity records and it yields a match, DHS automatically receives the responsive biometric data. Other identity information also could be conveyed by the foreign state. In the absence of a match in the foreign database, no fingerprints or other biometric information would be supplied to DHS.

Shared competence: EU and member-state roles

Twenty-four of the EU’s twenty-seven member states (all but Bulgaria, Cyprus, and Romania) participate in the VWP; they comprise more than half of all VWP members globally. Each EU state maintains its own national biometric information records for border purposes. Thus, DHS could take an important step toward fulfilling the overall EBSP goal by reaching biometric information-sharing agreements with these EU countries.

The EU, for its part, also has two relevant responsibilities: setting rules protecting personal data transferred outside its territory, per Article 16(2) of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU); and setting common policy on visas and external border checks, per Article 77(2) TFEU.

As popular sentiment for stricter border controls has swelled across Europe in recent years, the EU’s policymaking role in this area has become more prominent. In the past year, it has finalized a Pact on Migration and Asylum, a new set of rules on managing migration and asylum applications. In addition, new systems for tracking the entry and exit of foreign travelers and collecting the personal data of those entering EU territory on a visa-free basis are being put in place. These new systems show the EU moving in a similar direction as the United States in collecting information on foreign visitors.

DHS’s demand for biometric information-sharing agreements with EU member states thus touches on an area of “mixed” competence, i.e., one shared between the EU and its member states. In such a situation, the EU and its member states had to decide who would be responsible for negotiating with the United States.

The question took time to resolve. Only in 2024 did the Council of the European Union—which comprises the member states’ national ministers—invite the European Commission to develop a mandate for an international agreement at the EU level. Member states reportedly were eager to bring the collective negotiating strength of the EU to the table with the United States, rather than facing Washington individually.

A year passed before the Commission presented its draft negotiating mandate. It did so based on the understanding that the agreement sought by the United States related to the VWP and thus fell within the EU’s visa policy competence. Negotiations between the Council and Commission on the final contours of the mandate ensued during the second half of 2025.

Finally, in December 2025, the Council adopted a decision authoring the negotiation of an EU-level “framework” agreement with the United States. The framework would provide an overall legal structure for EU member states to conduct bilateral information exchange with DHS, setting the general conditions under which EU member states could provide biometric information to the US border agency. Each eligible member state subsequently would conclude an implementing agreement or arrangement with DHS identifying its relevant databases and operationalizing the data transfers.

Other relevant EU-US agreements

Over the past two decades, the EU has entered into a series of law enforcement and security information-sharing agreements with the United States—ranging from airline passenger name records (PNR) data to financial messaging data (via SWIFT) to mutual legal assistance in criminal matters. DHS is the principal beneficiary of PNR data sharing; the US Department of the Treasury receives SWIFT data used in tracking terrorist finance; and the Department of Justice manages information exchanged for criminal investigations and prosecutions. The United States and the EU also have concluded an agreement elaborating the data protection safeguards that must accompany transfers for law enforcement purposes, the so-called Umbrella Agreement.

In addition, DHS already enjoys access to foreign biometric and biographic data for purposes of preventing and combating serious crime (referred to as PCSC agreements), under a separate negotiating program that commenced in 2009. This earlier generation of agreements assists DHS in border encounters with persons suspected of terrorism and other serious offenses, but they do not apply to all foreign persons seeking to enter the United States.

The EU at that time had also sought to negotiate a PCSC agreement collectively on behalf of its member states, but DHS rebuffed Brussels and instead chose to negotiate individually with each EU member, believing the agency would have better leverage that way. The first two PCSC accords were concluded with Greece and Italy, and eventually all the European participants in the VWP program reached agreements as well.

An EU-level agreement on broad-scale border security information-sharing cooperation with the United States would represent a novel departure for Brussels. “It would be the first agreement concluded by the EU implying large-scale sharing of personal data, including biometric data, for the purpose of border and immigration control by a third country,” the European Data Protection supervisor has observed

This time, DHS appears to have appreciated the relative speed and efficiency that comes from negotiating one uniform set of access conditions that will apply to all EU VWP participants. The EU and its member states, meanwhile, seem to have reached a sensible division of labor that respects member states’ prerogatives for controlling their own biometric information databases and for managing technical interactions with DHS.

EU negotiating goals

One major EU ambition in setting the rules and procedures governing DHS queries is to preclude generalized processing of all travelers’ data. A Commission press spokesman emphasized the “non-systematic nature of the information exchange and that the exchange is limited to what is strictly necessary to achieve the objectives of this cooperation.”

The EU mandate further stresses that the EU seeks an agreement that would be reciprocal in nature, enabling member states’ border authorities to query corresponding DHS databases. A leaked Council presidency working paper suggested that a monitoring mechanism should ensure reciprocity in implementation: “Information on member states’ citizens should be exchanged under the framework only if the U.S. exchanges information on American citizens.”

It is not clear that the United States and the EU are entering into these negotiations with entirely congruent views on the scope of the framework agreement. DHS envisages checking the biometric databases of travelers from VWP countries on a routine basis. However, the European Commission, as noted above, views the information exchange as “non-systematic.”

In addition, the US international biometric information-sharing program envisages access to foreign databases “in the context of a border encounter or law enforcement investigation related to immigration or border security issues,” according to the DHS Privacy Impact Assessment (italics added). The EU mandate, by contrast, concentrates on security screening and identity verification at the border, with subsequent law enforcement data access to be exclusively governed by other bilateral agreements. 

The EU’s data protection rules are its main tool in ensuring that information conveyed to DHS pursuant to the EBSP agreement remains targeted. For example, the negotiating directive insists that processing of personal data be limited to what is “necessary and proportionate in individual cases.” Necessity and proportionality is a key concept in EU data protection law, including in the Schrems jurisprudence of the European Court of Justice, albeit one that is hard to define a priori.

The EU also seeks to include other traditional data protection safeguards in the EBSP agreement with the United States, according to press reports. One reported provision would require human involvement in decisions having significant adverse effects on individuals, rather than permitting entirely automated decision-making. Another would allow for the transfer of “special categories” of personal data—such as sensitive data regarding political opinions, religion, and sexual orientation—only when necessary and proportionate to prevent criminal or terrorist offenses, and with additional protections that limit the universe of individuals who may access it and the duration of retention. Onward transfers of foreign-supplied biometric data to third countries would require the explicit consent of the country from which the data originated.

According to the European Commission version of the negotiating mandate, the EU also seeks to limit DHS retention of transferred personal data to cases of “travelers in respect of whom there is objective evidence from which it may be inferred that there is a continuing risk to public security or public order.” In other words, DHS would not be permitted to store fingerprint data supplied by EU VWP countries on a generalized basis; it could do so only if it has reason to believe that the person would continue to be a threat—a difficult prediction for a security agency to make at the time of the initial border encounter.

The European Data Protection supervisor stated in his opinion that he “largely supports” the proposed approach with the United States. At the same time, he pointed to certain information-sharing constraints the EU would face. Two important EU data repositories prohibit sharing of information with third countries: Eurodac, which contains biometric information on persons who have applied for refugee status in an EU member state or otherwise have migrated irregularly, and ECRIS, which links together member-state records of third country nationals with criminal convictions within the EU. However, the member states themselves regard the exclusive focus of negotiations with the United States on national databases as “without prejudice to any further reflections on the possibility for information exchange with selected third countries from EU databases,” the leaked Council presidency document suggested.

Finally, the EU mandate also seeks the right to an “effective remedy” for persons whose information has been transferred to DHS. This principle, enshrined in the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights, consistently has proven very difficult to resolve in past EU information-sharing agreements with the United States.

Major issues and possible solutions

The existing web of EU-US information-sharing agreements offer valuable precedents for the latest negotiation on access to biometric data for border security purposes. The PCSC agreements, for example, can provide a template for structuring technical interaction between DHS and EU member-state databases. Equally, the types of data protection provisions contained in the law enforcement Umbrella Agreement could be mirrored in the EBSP agreement, even if the former cannot directly be applied to the border security context.

Remedies for misuse of information likely will prove more difficult to resolve. The Data Privacy Framework (DPF), which offers safeguards against illegal US intelligence agency access to personal data transferred from Europe in the commercial context, provides redress in the form of a special tribunal established within the US Department of Justice. Europeans may not petition an ordinary US court if they believe a US intelligence agency has improperly used their data, however. The Court of Justice of the European Union has yet to decide if this specialized form of recourse meets EU fundamental rights standards.

By contrast, the EU did secure US judicial redress for EU citizens whose information is exchanged for law enforcement purposes, under the terms of the EU-US Umbrella Agreement. It took a US statutory change, through the adoption of the Judicial Redress Act, to extend such a right to foreign persons. (The US Privacy Act otherwise limits the right of judicial redress only to US individuals.) Extending this right to Europeans’ whose biometric data is transferred to DHS for the purposes of border security—as opposed to law enforcement—likely would require a further US statutory amendment. Persuading Congress of the necessity of such a change would be challenging.

The necessity and proportionality concept in EU fundamental rights law serves as a legal technique for balancing data protection rights with legitimate public order and public security interests. In the DPF, the United States accepted explicit reference to the EU’s necessity and proportionality standard—in a sensitive context dealing with potential intelligence agency access to personal data. Incorporating this concept in the border biometric information-sharing setting could similarly assure the EU and its member states that DHS is not engaged in mass data collection.

DHS faces a complex legal situation in pursuing negotiations involving both the EU and its member states. It is consistently difficult for a US government negotiator to be certain where a particular responsibility lies within the EU’s confederal system. In this case, the task is complicated by the cumbersome division of competences for visa and border policy.

In addition, since DHS seeks information for not just border security but also related law enforcement purposes, it must engage with two separate and varying sources of EU data protection law. Data protection rules for immigration control and visa policy are governed by the General Data Protection Regulation, while the rules for protecting law enforcement data fall under a separate directive.

Political factors in Europe also could slow completion of the agreements with the United States. Some members of the European Parliament who belong to the liberal Renew parliamentary group wrote to the European Commission in January, stating: “Looking at the current geopolitical context, we consider it undesirable for the European Commission to start or continue such negotiations.” Although the European Parliament does not have the power to stop the negotiations, it must approve any international agreement that the EU reaches with the United States.

The Trump administration’s removal of Democratic members serving on the Privacy and Civil Liberties Oversight Board (PLCOB) and on the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) have undermined confidence in European privacy circles in US institutions charged with privacy protection. Moreover, DHS’s proposed rule requiring visitors to the United States to supply five years of details on their social media activity has generated widespread outrage abroad. Although this initiative is formally separate from the VWP program, the European public might well conflate the social media and biometric information demands of the United States.

DHS’s goal of wrapping up both the EU framework agreement and, subsequently, the twenty-four implementing agreements with EU member states by the end of 2026, as has been reported, will likely prove overly ambitious. A more achievable ambition would be to complete the EU framework by that date, with the necessary member states implementing agreements afterward. (The leaked Council presidency document sternly states that it considers “Member States’ commitment to refrain from bilateral negotiations with the US while material discussions on the framework are ongoing to be of critical strategic importance.”)

Nevertheless, there is reason for optimism that the US-EU engagement on border security biometric information sharing will yield success. Both sides appear to have entered talks pragmatically, the EU and its member states by agreeing on a sensible division of labor between themselves, and the United States by accepting the practical benefits of negotiating with both Brussels and member-state capitals. Each is impelled by a desire to have greater control of its borders and sees reciprocal information sharing as a promising approach. However, flexibility on both sides will be indispensable to overcoming divergent positions on issues such as remedies.

Further, by winning support in principle for the framework agreement from the EU’s data protection supervisor, the EU already has shown its commitment to achieving a broadly acceptable agreement. Europe’s collective approach to these negotiations also reflects a sober appreciation of power realities. EU citizens value the ease of visa-free travel to the United States, so member states ultimately will do what is necessary to retain VWP status, within the confines of fundamental rights.

Finally, the EU’s decision to take a leading role in the EBSP negotiations reflects its increased institutional maturity and importance in the field of border security. DHS’s willingness to pursue a framework agreement with the EU may show a corresponding recognition of Brussels’ growing role in this area. As popular sentiment has converged in Europe and America on more tightly controlling borders, there is now an opportunity to achieve a balanced transatlantic agreement on sharing information to that end.

about the author

Kenneth Propp is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center, an adjunct professor of European Union law at the Georgetown University Law Center, and a senior fellow with the Cross-Border Data Forum. His prior experience includes serving as legal counselor at the US Mission to the European Union in Brussels and in the Office of the Legal Adviser at the US Department of State. 

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Toplines: Deterring Putin’s aggression against NATO https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/toplines-deterring-putins-aggression-against-nato/ Wed, 25 Mar 2026 17:34:22 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=909872 Five key places in the Nordic and Baltic region are in the Kremlin's crosshairs. How should NATO prepare?

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Top three

  • If Vladimir Putin can’t win a clear victory in Ukraine, he will seek one elsewhere; a clear victory in Ukraine would embolden Moscow to further aggression.
  • Europe must prepare to meet these threats with less American support.
  • The lowest risk option for Moscow—and therefore the threat Europe needs to prepare for most urgently—is Russian forces occupying Norway’s Svalbard archipelago.

worth a thousand words

Five places where Russia might test NATO resolve through aggression against Alliance territory.

The Diagnosis

The strategic context: The rise of autocratic regimes worldwide poses an alarming challenge to the global community of democracies, leading to an international system marked by instability and increasing fragmentation. Debates over how to approach the threat have divided the community, with traditional alliances and coalitions under increasing strain. Further, the current US administration’s response to these challenges is strikingly different from those of past administrations. Over time, the US presence in Europe is likely to decline, and Europe must rapidly increase its defense capabilities in response.

The threat: Despite its losses in Ukraine, Russia is reconstituting its forces and continues to pose a formidable military threat. The Russian economy has rebounded from 2022’s historic sanctions and looks unlikely to collapse in the near term. Further, there are no political checks within Russia on Putin’s desire to re-establish dominance in Eurasia.

The risk: NATO isn’t ready— militarily, intellectually, diplomatically—to confront Moscow’s determined testing of the Alliance’s resolve. Should Moscow actually seek to enact one of these scenarios, the Alliance is at risk of fracturing–nothing short of a robust Article 5 response from the Alliance would be sufficient to credibly reset allied deterrence against any further provocations against NATO territories by Russia and thereby preserve the alliance itself.

The prescription

Here are five potential Russian attack scenarios for which NATO must prepare, ordered from least to most risky from Moscow’s perspective.

Target 1: Svalbard archipelago

The Svalbard archipelago, a lightly populated Norwegian territory near the North Pole, could be a target of Russian occupation. Remote and militarily undefended, Svalbard is governed by a 1920 treaty, which stipulates that military installations cannot be placed there. Citizens of any treaty signatory can reside and pursue commercial opportunities on the islands, subject to Norwegian law, and all parties must respect and preserve the local environment. Russian nationals make up seventeen percent of the population on Svalbard, with their presence largely focused in the Barentsburg settlement (population of 343 in 2025) where Russia operates a mine and a research station.

The attack

A Russian occupation of Svalbard would likely begin with hybrid measures, cyber disruption, telecommunications sabotage, and disinformation about treaty violations, followed by a rapid insertion of Russian special forces or naval infantry to seize the airfield and key infrastructure before NATO can react.

The risks for Moscow

Given the archipelago’s lack of defenses and small population, occupying Svalbard would strengthen Moscow’s geostrategic position in the High North while presenting NATO with an immediate credibility dilemma under Article 5, making it a tempting opportunity for Russia to test Alliance resolve at relatively low risk. This target presents the lowest risk of the five presented.

What might prompt Moscow to act?

A perception of declining US engagement in Europe, visible NATO political divisions, or intelligence suggesting that the Alliance would struggle to generate a rapid and unified military response.

How to prevent it

To prevent occupation of Svalbard, Norway and NATO should

  • strengthen deterrence through visible political signaling
  • establish a small rotational military or paramilitary presence on the archipelago (which is allowed for under the 1920 treaty banning permanent military installations on Svalbard)
  • enhance intelligence and surveillance focused on early warning
  • regularly conduct exercises demonstrating rapid reinforcement capability, such as through the existing BALTOPS exercise

Target 2: Åland islands

The Åland islands, demilitarized, undefended, sovereign Finnish territory at the strategic entrance to the Gulf of Bothnia, could also be targeted for Russian occupation. The Åland islands sit near three NATO capitals—Stockholm, Tallinn, and Helsinki—making the islands an attractive target. Their seizure would dramatically shift the balance of power in the Baltic Sea, strengthening Russia’s defensive depth around St. Petersburg and Kaliningrad, and confront NATO with an immediate test of credibility.

The attack

The operation would likely begin with the covert insertion of Russian special operations forces to secure Mariehamn’s airfield and key infrastructure, followed by a rapid deployment of naval infantry or airborne units supported by Russia’s Baltic Fleet assets and air defense systems.

The risks for Moscow

This target presents a low to moderate risk for Russia. The risk is higher than with Svalbard, given Finland’s stronger military capacity and the islands’ proximity to NATO forces, but still potentially attractive if Moscow anticipates any hesitation or delay in Alliance response.

What might prompt Moscow to act?

Perceived NATO political fragmentation, a reduced or limited forward presence in the Baltic region, or signals that Finland would hesitate to remilitarize the islands could convince Moscow that a swift fait accompli would succeed before reinforcements arrive.

How to prevent it

Finland, together with Sweden and NATO, should end the islands’ effective military vacuum by

  • forward deploying a credible mechanized defensive force
  • strengthening air and maritime patrols
  • pre-positioning supplies
  • conducting regular exercises to ensure rapid reinforcement and deny Russia the possibility of an uncontested landing on the Åland Islands.

Target 3: Eastern Estonia

Eastern Estonia, particularly the region including and surrounding Narva near the Russian border, combines geographic proximity, a significant ethnic Russian population, and limited national military depth, making it a plausible target for calibrated aggression. A limited seizure or engineered separatist enclave would test NATO’s Article 5 credibility while exploiting hybrid tactics and ambiguity to divide the Alliance.

The attack

The scenario would likely begin with the covert insertion of Russian paramilitary units and special operations forces posing as “local self-defense groups,” backed by cyberattacks, disinformation, and unrest in Narva, with the intent of carving out a separatist enclave of “oppressed” Russian minorities. These actions would be followed by rapid reinforcement from nearby Russian airborne and ground units under the pretext of protecting ethnic Russians.

The risks for Moscow

This target presents a low to moderate risk for Russian occupation. Such action would represent a higher escalation potential than Svalbard or Åland due to the likelihood of direct fighting and seizure of a contiguous region of a NATO territory. However, this target is still potentially attractive if Russia judges NATO’s likely response to be slow, divided, or limited.

What might prompt Moscow to act?

Perceived NATO hesitation, insufficient forward-deployed heavy forces in the Baltics, domestic unrest in Estonia, or signals of reduced US commitment to European defense could convince Moscow that a limited territorial grab would succeed before a robust Alliance response materializes.

How to prevent it

Estonia and NATO should strengthen deterrence by

  • expanding Estonian force structure
  • forward-deploying a full NATO brigade with enablers
  • enhancing cyber and hybrid resilience
  • preparing territorial defenses
  • conducting frequent rapid-reinforcement exercises to deny Russia the possibility of a quick fait accompli.

Target 4: Gotland

Another potential target of Russian aggression is the Swedish island of Gotland, which sits at the center of the Baltic Sea. Its position confers decisive advantages in air and maritime control, making it strategically vital in any regional conflict. Its seizure would shift the Baltic balance toward Russia’s favor, secure access routes to Kaliningrad, and deliver a major strategic and symbolic blow to NATO.

The attack

A surprise coup de main by Russian naval infantry or airborne (VDV) forces, preceded by sabotage, cyber disruption, and covert special operations reconnaissance, could aim to overwhelm the island’s garrison before Swedish mainland reinforcements arrive.

The risks for Moscow

This target presents a moderate risk—higher than Svalbard, Åland, or eastern Estonia because Sweden has standing forces on the island. The direct conflict with armed forces mean NATO involvement would be more certain, increasing the likelihood of escalation.

What might prompt Moscow to act?

If Russian planners assess that NATO reinforcement timelines are slow, Swedish defenses remain limited to battalion strength, or Alliance unity is politically fractured during a wider crisis, the perceived opportunity for a rapid fait accompli could grow.

How to prevent it

Sweden, with NATO support, should

  • expand Gotland’s defense from battalion to brigade strength
  • reinforce it with artillery, air defense, and anti-ship systems,
  • pre-position supplies
  • rehearse rapid multinational reinforcement to ensure Russia cannot seize the island quickly or cheaply.

Target 5: Land bridge to Kaliningrad

Russian aggression through Lithuania to connect Belarus with Kaliningrad is a fifth potential attack scenario. Kaliningrad is a critical Russian exclave and home to the Baltic Fleet, whose overland access through Lithuania is vulnerable in a NATO-Russia conflict. A sudden Russian strike through Lithuania could link Russian forces to Kaliningrad, isolate the Baltic states, and achieve strategic depth, making rapid forward defense and NATO reinforcement essential.

The attack

Russia could initiate a sudden, large-scale invasion from Belarus and western Russia, preceded by airborne and special operations units, cyberattacks, and disinformation, advancing along the most direct roads to Vilnius and Kaunas to secure a land corridor to Kaliningrad.

The risks for Moscow

This is a high risk, high reward target for Russia. NATO and Polish forces, combined with the vulnerability of Russian supply lines and the potential for escalation, make such an operation costly and politically dangerous despite the operational advantage of surprise.

What might prompt Moscow to act?

Perceived NATO disengagement, diversion of US or EU resources elsewhere, internal pressures in Russia, or a belief that Baltic defenses are weak and NATO reinforcement delayed, encouraging Moscow to act before defenses harden.

How to prevent it

Lithuania, supported by NATO, should

  • expand active and reserve forces to divisional strength
  • establish a combined Baltic corps with NATO enablers
  • fortify key terrain and infrastructure
  • pre-position supplies
  • rehearse rapid multinational reinforcement to deter or defeat a Russian push toward Kaliningrad.

Bottom lines

By themselves, none of the Nordic or Baltic countries can deter or fend off Russian aggression in any of these five scenarios. At this time, NATO is not postured to do so either. To deter these scenarios, here are the first steps:

  • Place NATO brigades in the Nordic-Baltic region, as promised at the Madrid summit in 2022.
  • Create a comprehensive exercise schedule building on or similar to BALTOPS, specifically for Svalbard and Åland, to demonstrate capability to rapidly move in and defend the territory.
  • Mobilize the NATO alliance and Europe writ large to provide the Baltic states with critical financial assistance beyond what already exists, to a level that has not been forthcoming to date.
  • Accelerate the preparation of the populations of these countries for the reality of the risk of Russian aggression. While this is primarily a responsibility for the national governments, NATO can and should have a role to play.

Read the full report

Report

Feb 12, 2026

Putin’s next move? Five Russian attack scenarios Europe must prepare for

By Richard D. Hooker, Jr.

Whether emboldened by victory in Ukraine or motivated by a loss to pursue success elsewhere, Russian president Vladimir Putin is likely to continue his campaign of aggression. The Nordic and Baltic region, already subject to a campaign of intimidation, is in the Kremlin’s crosshairs—with these five places at greatest risk.

Defense Policy Eastern Europe

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The economic and political traps awaiting aging societies https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/the-economic-and-political-traps-awaiting-aging-societies/ Fri, 20 Mar 2026 22:00:39 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=911241 Rapidly aging populations and falling birthrates create fiscal and economic headwinds that even advanced economies struggle to manage. Some middle-income countries are approaching the same “demographic cliff” at an even faster clip, while many lower-income countries face the opposite problem. Policymakers in all cases must be prepared to make politically tough decisions—and soon.

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Bottom lines up front

  • High-income and middle-income countries are approaching the same demographic cliff, with middle-income countries in line for a more abrupt contraction in the workforce supporting aging citizens.
  • Low-income countries face a different set of challenges posed by a large group of economically inactive young people.
  • The policies needed to address these problems will be politically difficult, and the longer policymakers wait to act the more decision space will narrow.

Demographic change is a critical variable affecting long-term economic development, including economic growth, capital accumulation, government budgets and debt, technology adaptation, and prosperity. Global demographic trends differ markedly, with some countries experiencing population stagnation or even decline, while other countries’ populations expand rapidly. Governments are not powerless in the face of the headwinds these demographic shifts produce. Mitigating the effects, however, of a shrinking working-age population in advanced economies and leveraging demographic expansion in developing economies will require far-sighted public policies.

Countries with declining working-age populations face significant challenges. Economically, the combination of low growth and increased government social spending creates financial pressures. Politically, demographic aging creates so-called “gray majorities” that can make it difficult for governments, particularly democratic ones, to enact the reforms necessary to maintain long-term financial stability. To the extent that voters view health and pension expenditures as acquired rights, political opposition to reform tends to be significant. Similarly, countries with a large share of young people may be more prone to political instability, particularly in the context of uneven economic growth and limited employment opportunities. These countries also often lack the ability to mobilize the resources necessary to invest in human and physical capital.

This issue brief is divided into three parts. First is an overview of demographic trends in advanced, emerging, and developing economies. These three groups of countries largely coincide with those identified in the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Indexes: high prosperity/high freedom, medium and low prosperity/medium and low freedom, and low prosperity/low freedom. Second is a discussion of the various economic, financial, and political challenges faced by the three groups, followed finally by high-level recommendations to cope with the economic challenges of demographic change.

Demographic change in advanced, emerging, and developing economies 

When discussing the impact of demographic change on prosperity, it is helpful to divide countries into three categories: advanced economies (or high-income countries), emerging economies (or middle-income countries), and developing economies (or low-income countries). Demographic trends in advanced, emerging, and developing economies differ markedly, leading to different economic and political challenges. The median age in high-, middle-, and low-income countries is forty, thirty, and twenty years old, respectively.

Advanced economies are characterized by high per capita income, slow economic growth, and a rapidly increasing elderly population. (See Figure 1.) In some cases, even the overall population is declining after decades of below-replacement fertility rates. (See Figure 2.) Where the overall population continues to increase, it is often due to net immigration. The so-called old-age dependency ratio—the share of people over sixty-five relative to the working-age population—averages thirty in advanced economies, meaning that for every person of retirement age there are roughly three people of working age. In Japan, a demographically very advanced country, the ratio is currently fifty, meaning there are two people of working age for every person over sixty-five.

Emerging economies, characterized by middling per capita income but generally fair economic growth, are also aging, in some cases very rapidly (e.g., China). Their old-age dependency ratios, however, remain lower than those of most advanced economies. Until recently, emerging economies were in a demographic sweet spot as they experienced declining overall dependency ratios. Today, fertility rates have fallen to near or below replacement levels in many upper-middle-income countries, setting them up for what are likely to be rapid increases in their old-age dependency ratios over the next few decades. In advanced economies, this transition was comparatively gradual. In many emerging economies, the transition will be considerably faster. The related economic challenges will affect these countries more precipitously, if more predictably.

Developing economies have low per capita income and are characterized by young, growing populations. The variability of economic growth is significant within this group of countries, with some registering very rapid economic expansion, while others are experiencing stagnation, typically in the context of domestic civil strife and political instability. Like high old-age dependency in advanced economies, a high youth dependency ratio in developing economies translates into a large share of economically inactive youth relative to the working-age population. This in part helps explain low levels of savings and investment.

How demographic change affects prosperity 

Favorable demographic momentum enhances a country’s economic potential. But there are many other factors that can affect economic outcomes, either favorably—sensible economic policy, strong human capital (e.g., high-quality schooling)—or unfavorably (e.g., political instability). The economic and financial outlook for each group differs markedly.

First, advanced economies have a significantly lower growth potential than emerging and developing economies. (See Figure 3.) Advanced economies grow less rapidly because they operate near the so-called technological frontier. By comparison, emerging and developing economies find it easier to generate productivity gains due to physical capital accumulation and the adaptation of existing technologies. In principle, developing economies are even more favorably positioned, but they often fail to fully exploit their potential catch-up growth because of political and economic instability.

Second, advanced economies are faced with adverse labor supply dynamics, compared to emerging and developing economies. An increasing old-age dependency ratio means the share of workers shrinks relative to older, economically inactive individuals. (See Figure 4.) According to the standard economic growth model, labor, in addition to capital and technology, contributes to economic output. Provided they are fully employed, expanding working-age populations will add to economic output, while a declining working-age population will subtract from it, all other things equal.

Third, advanced economies’ aging can affect the level of savings and hence investment and economic growth. As the share of economically inactive people—namely retirees, who do not produce but consume—increases, consumption tends to also increase and savings to decrease (relative to the baseline scenario where the old-age dependency ratio remains constant). This is akin to the life cycle hypothesis, which posits that savings peak in middle age. Indeed, the savings ratio in “middle-aged” emerging economies is significantly higher than in advanced and developing economies. (See Figure 5.) Of course, many other factors affect savings and investment in an economy, but an increasing old-dependency ratio should, all other things equal, reduce or at least limit savings, while a declining overall dependency should increase savings.

Fourth, advanced economies are, on average, characterized by high debt–to–GDP ratios and face significant increases in age-related government spending. (See Figure 6.) Social transfers and age-related spending (e.g., on health care and pensions) typically constitute the largest spending category in advanced economies. Moreover, advanced economies, and also some emerging economies, face large increases in age-related expenditures, as represented by the net present value of future pension and health care spending. By contrast, the government debt burden (measured as a share of GDP) in developing economies is typically lower, as is age-related spending. But while advanced and emerging economies have higher debt than developing economies, they also have a broader tax base, a more captive investor base, superior governance, and higher per capita income. Nonetheless, the financial challenges in the face of demographic change are significant in advanced economies; somewhat less significant, though rapidly increasing, in emerging economies; and virtually absent in developing economies.

Finally, distributional conflict is easier to manage in rapidly growing emerging economies than in slow-growing advanced economies, particularly in regard to age-related spending. It is more challenging to rein in spending or increase revenue in slow-growing economies, as a “pie” that is growing less rapidly makes distributional conflict more intense. In advanced economies especially, an expanding “gray majority” keen on defending acquired rights is electorally influential given its growing share of the voting population. By contrast, a rapidly expanding youth population can lead to instability (“youth bulge”). This also can make it harder to pursue a forward-looking policy consistent with long-term financial stability. Compared to advanced economies, emerging economies may find it easier to deal with distributional conflict given generally high economic growth rates as well as less pressure to rein in age-related spending. (See Figure 7.)

Policy recommendations 

Demographic change will have a major impact on economic outlook and government finances, particularly in advanced economies and increasingly in many emerging economies. Developing economies also face demographics-related economic challenges. Following are high-level recommendations for coping with demographic change.

For advanced economies

Advanced economies faced with declining or slow-growing working-age populations, slow economic growth, and increasing government debt should do the following:

  • Devise policies aimed at slowing and, if possible, reversing declines in fertility rates. Few if any countries have thus far proved successful at increasing fertility rates. Even countries with supportive childcare and education policies have seen their rates decline significantly (e.g., Scandinavia). It is worth experimenting with policies to prevent a further, potentially catastrophic decline.
  • Pursue policies to prevent further decline in economic growth. Such policies include creating incentives for older workers to remain in the workforce for longer, if only part-time, and supporting the development and integration of productivity-enhancing technologies (e.g., AI). Higher growth will help make demographic aging slightly more manageable.
  • Reduce upward pressure on age-related spending. Adjust benefits and make spending more targeted and efficient in addition to automatically adjusting expenditures for increases in longevity.
  • Increase immigration to counteract an accelerating decline of the labor force and thus slow the increase in old-age dependency ratios. In view of political headwinds in many advanced countries, it is important to explain the benefits of immigration and put in place appropriate policies aimed at rapidly integrating immigrants economically, politically, and socially. Consider issuing temporary or conditional work permits and conduct recurrent cost-benefit analysis of various types of immigration based on economic needs (e.g., individuals with specific educational or professional backgrounds, like medical professionals to meet increased demand in healthcare sector).

For emerging economies

Emerging economies faced with a rapidly slowing demographic momentum, a fair economic growth outlook, and middling debt levels should avoid replicating the mistakes of advanced economies and do the following:

  • Devise policies to sustain continued high economic growth. Individual policies will vary by country, as different economies face different challenges (e.g., China has a high rate of saving; Brazil’s is low). Economically closed countries can generate efficiency gains by way of trade liberalization or creating more attractive conditions for foreign investment.
  • Attract high-quality, low-risk capital inflows from less rapidly expanding advanced economies. This requires a credible commitment to sensible economic policies and macroeconomic stability and favorable regulatory and attractive tax policies, among other things. Enshrining such commitments in difficult-to-change laws or constitutional law may prove helpful.
  • Limit future age-related government spending in view of rapid demographic aging. Avoid making expenditure commitments that will put stress on government finances by, for example, tying contributions and expenditures to projected demographic developments before a politically strong gray majority capable of preventing forward-looking age-related policies emerges.

For developing economies

Developing economies have low savings rates due to a high youth dependency ratio, while a rapidly expanding young population creates economic and political challenges. To address this, they should do the following:

  • Maintain and/or increase political and economic stability to exploit their considerable economic catch-up potential and reduce the incentives for skilled individuals to immigrate to high-wage economies where there is strong demand and both political stability and living standards are higher. Political and economic stability are likely to prove self-reinforcing.
  • Mobilize greater fiscal and financial resources, including from abroad, to invest in infrastructure and education in order to increase physical and human capital and facilitate integration of young people into the formal economy.
  • Pursue policies aimed at lowering the youth dependency ratio to enhance the economy’s savings potential. This should be done through incentives, ideally by providing women with better access to education and offering targeted, affordable age-related policies to reduce the incentives to have large numbers of children, particularly in poor, rural areas.
  • Create conditions to facilitate the return of skilled emigrants through incentives, such as tax benefits. Emigrants often gain valuable economic experience and skills in their host countries. They can also help create transnational economic networks, allowing knowledge, skills, and even capital to move more easily between advanced and developing economies. The easier it is for emigrants to return to their country of origin, without forfeiting the right to reside in either country, the more likely they are to return or engage in economic activities in their home country.

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Aquatic Tiger: How long-range submarine drones could play a role in a Taiwan conflict https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/aquatic-tiger-how-long-range-submarine-drones-could-play-a-role-in-a-taiwan-conflict/ Fri, 20 Mar 2026 15:11:51 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=903128 Could submarine drones help the United States deter or counter a Chinese attack on Taiwan? The Aquatic Tiger wargame was designed to find out. The Atlantic Council's Indo-Pacific Security Initiative reports on the wargame's findings, with implications for the US government, the defense industry, and more. 

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Bottom lines up front

  • The Aquatic Tiger wargame explored how long-range autonomous underwater vehicles (LRAUVs) could help the US deter or counter Chinese military action against Taiwan.
  • LRAUVs showed promise for pre-conflict surveillance, mine countermeasures, and swarming attacks in chokepoints, but showed vulnerabilities in the shallow, constricted waters of the Taiwan Strait.
  • LRAUVs would be useful contributors—not decisive—if deployed in large numbers, with advance planning, and integrated into broader US and allied military operations.

Introduction

According to the Pentagon, “[China’s military] continues to refine multiple military options to force Taiwan unification by brute force. Those options include, most dangerously, an amphibious invasion, firepower strike, and possibly a maritime blockade.”

To address this threat, the new National Security Strategy unveiled in late 2025 declares that “deterring a conflict over Taiwan, ideally by preserving military overmatch, is a priority” and emphasizes, to this end, “reinforcing U.S. and allies’ capacity to deny any attempt to seize Taiwan. The new National Defense Strategy of January 2026 further reinforces the goal to establish a “strong denial defense along the First Island Chain” and the need to “supercharge the defense industrial base.”

For this approach to succeed, the United States and its allies must rapidly field new military systems to counterbalance China’s military buildup. To offset China’s tremendous rate of military production, US defense thinkers and policymakers are increasingly focused on unmanned systems—particularly those far cheaper and faster to produce than the most advanced manned warships and aircraft. Such low-priced unmanned systems would be a key element of accelerating a buildup of US military capability to deter or defeat Chinese aggression against Taiwan at a feasible cost.

As Admiral Samuel Paparo, commander of the US Indo-Pacific Command, told the Washington Post: “I want to turn the Taiwan Strait into an unmanned hellscape using a number of classified capabilities so I can make their lives utterly miserable for a month, which buys me the time for the rest of everything.”

Thanks to both sides’ mass use of unmanned aircraft in Russia’s war against Ukraine, this quote might bring to mind swarms of flying drones dropping munitions or ramming into targets. But Ukraine is largely a land war, and a fight to control Taiwan would be a different kind of warfare. Undersea drones could play a critical role in defending Taiwan, particularly if they could be produced relatively cheaply and paired with AI that would allow them to operate autonomously while submerged and maintain communications silence to preserve their stealth. Given the long distances involved in the Indo-Pacific region and the distance of US bases from Taiwan, such drones could be particularly useful for the US military in a Taiwan conflict if they had a range of over 1000 kilometers. This led to the Atlantic Council’s Indo-Pacific Security Initiative (IPSI)’s interest in exploring, through wargaming and analysis, the potential of US LRAUVs in a Taiwan contingency. This issue brief is the result of Aquatic Tiger, an initial two-day wargame and post-wargame analytic effort conducted by IPSI, using the expertise of former US military, intelligence, and defense officials, along with non-government scholars and industry experts. This wargame, conducted over two days in November 2025, was the first of its kind with publicly available results, and is summarized below from the perspectives of a range of participants.

Aquatic Tiger’s initial results suggest that additional analysis, wargaming, modeling, technical experimentation, live exercises, and simulation on key issues related to such LRAUVs are warranted, including: how units of such drones would be best organized and employed by the United States, Taiwan, and US allies in such a contingency; whether such LRAUVs could be produced at a low enough cost and in sufficient scale to be effective; what tactical-level synergies these LRAUVs would have operating in concert with other manned and unmanned platforms; and the potential efficacy of various Chinese countermeasures.

LRAUV capabilities: A submariner’s perspective

The LRAUVs employed in Aquatic Tiger are systems still in development that have not been fielded in large numbers or used in combat. For the purposes of Aquatic Tiger, we made assumptions about the capabilities they would have in the next few years. The LRAUVs for Aquatic Tiger were uncrewed, extended-duration, multi-mission submersible platforms controlled by AI. Due to communications limitations imposed by the need to remain submerged and minimize the risk of detection when approaching their targets, they relied heavily on mission planning, programmed autonomous action, and post-mission data recovery. They were modular and configurable to various mission roles such as intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), seabed survey, mine countermeasures (MCM), electronic warfare (EW), and maritime kinetic effects (high-explosive warhead) delivery. For the purposes of Aquatic Tiger, we also assumed that they would have an austere deployment capability, meaning they could be launched directly from the back of a truck or dropped from a ship or aircraft.

LRAUVs reduce personnel risk and are low cost, expendable, and less attributable than crewed submersibles. However, they lack the speed, endurance, mission versatility, stealth and survivability, payload, and real-time situational awareness and decision-making capability of crewed platforms like US attack submarines.

Compared to unmanned aerial systems (UAS), LRAUVs benefit from longer range and time on station, underwater concealment, and reduced exposure to the adversary’s anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities, particularly sensors and missiles. However, LRAUVs are also much slower, lacking the rapid deployment and potential wide-area coverage of UAVs, while their limited communication capabilities preclude the same level of immediate dynamic tasking and constant sharing of situational awareness with other platforms.

Wargame director’s overview of Aquatic Tiger

To explore LRAUVs’ potential in a near-future Taiwan scenario, we conducted the two-day Aquatic Tiger wargame with three teams including former US military, intelligence, and defense officials, along with non-government scholars and industry experts. The Blue Team representing the US military, including notional LRAUV capabilities, was led by a former US Defense Department senior executive with extensive experience with East Asian issues. The Red Team, representing China, was led by a former senior defense intelligence analyst whose career focused on China’s military. The control team planned and ran the wargame, adjudicated the results of player actions, and addressed the roles of countries other than the United States and China as needed. It consisted of former US government and military leaders with experience running wargames and tabletop exercises—including one retired US Navy officer with extensive experience directing wargames on undersea warfare—and a distinguished scholar bringing academic rigor to the analytic methodology.

Road to crisis and first turn: Chinese pressure on Taiwan building

To provide a starting point for the scenario, we began with a notional crisis, set a few years from now, in which China’s military placed unprecedented military pressure on Taiwan to convince its people to seek reconciliation with Beijing and oppose further defense budget increases. As tensions rose, a Chinese military aircraft crashed after a collision with a drone from Taiwan. Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-controlled media claimed several members of the aircrew were killed, and Chinese fighter jets soon shot down three more drones. CCP leadership threatened further escalation, warning that a “wrong decision” would trigger “decisive military action.” For its part, Washington announced stiff new economic punishments against China, warning they would remain in place until Beijing agreed to “maintain peace and to renounce aggression.” With that, the scene was set for a confrontation.

Figure 1: Turn one of the Aquatic Tiger wargame

The Red Team, simulating China, initiated the wargame planning to keep the Taiwan situation “an internal matter,” using an air and sea quarantine to pressure Taiwan while keeping out the US military and preparing for a potential armed conflict. China’s priorities included

  • enforcing a quarantine of Taiwan framed by the CCP as a domestic law-enforcement action (attempting to force all air and sea cargo to Taiwan to be routed via air and seaports on China’s mainland for inspection);
  • enhancing defensive military posture, including surveillance assets to detect potential US military intervention; and
  • conducting a messaging campaign targeting the populations of Taiwan, the United States, and the international community, along with diplomatic actions around the world to underscore that the goal is a peaceful resolution.

The Blue Team’s overall concept at the outset was to “flood the zone” to signal resolve and deter escalation. Its priorities included: surging ISR assets, including LRAUVs, into the area around Taiwan; increasing military posture, including with LRAUVs; and engaging allies and partners for support.

During the first turn of the wargame, US military-operated LRAUVs, along with small numbers operated deniably by the US government and others operated by non-government research entities and private contractors, successfully deployed into key areas to conduct surveillance and support public release of information on Chinese activities—though non-LRAUV assets proved to be more effective collectors of images compelling for public release. Beijing’s calculus and plans were ultimately unaffected. The information campaign built some international support and sympathy, but China leaned into its narrative and US key allies and partners ultimately remained hesitant due to risks and costs.

Second turn: China escalates and the United States responds

Figure 2: Turn two of the Aquatic Tiger wargame

In the second turn of the wargame, the situation rapidly escalated as Chinese coast guard vessels attempted to enforce the quarantine and Taiwanese coast guard vessels moved to escort incoming ships. Chinese military vessels intervened, with a People’s Republic of China (PRC) frigate sinking one of Taiwan’s coast guard vessels. A short time later, this frigate exploded and sank quickly, apparently hit by a torpedo or unmanned underwater vehicle.

The Red Team escalated under the premise that China would “prepare to achieve a resolution to the Taiwan question.” China declared a full blockade of Taiwan and, shortly thereafter, conducted limited joint firepower strikes on Taiwan bases. To stifle international opposition and justify its position, Beijing simultaneously conducted a strategic messaging campaign targeting the international community.

The Red Team’s pivot from pressuring Taiwan to use of force was a major and rapid escalation and a reaction to perceived US direct intervention. China was trying to impose costs to compel the United States to back off, not hesitating to destroy LRAUVs and other “interference” in the Taiwan Strait, while assuming US involvement in LRAUV operations and the sinking of the frigate. The Blue Team’s posture adjusted to provide broader military options and complicate PRC efforts beyond the vicinity of Taiwan, while leveraging allies and partners. LRAUVs were augmenting, but not replacing, a wide range of other surveillance assets and saw some limited use for counter-mine operations.

Third turn: Military conflict to control access to Taiwan

Figure 3: Turn three of the Aquatic Tiger wargame

At the start of the third turn, the Red Team continued wanting to convince the Taiwan government to come to the negotiating table. But it shifted to primarily focus on defeating (but not destroying) US military operations supporting Taiwan, while still attempting to avoid an all-out war with the United States and its allies. The PRC approach included three main elements.

  • Prevent US/allied military interference and support to Taiwan: Conduct A2/AD focused on chokepoints south and northeast of Taiwan in order to keep the US military at bay and impose costs on Washington, while warning the United States that China has deployed portions of its nuclear triad.
  • Defeat Taiwan’s forces with standoff attacks: Conduct joint firepower strikes on Taiwan’s military and infrastructure targets in order to damage logistics, disrupt command and control, and reduce Taiwan’s ability to resist.
  • Control the Taiwan Strait: Reinforce China’s control of the Taiwan Strait in order to deny US support and unity of action, and to enable cross-strait access for an amphibious assault, if needed.

The Blue Team’s overall concept, meanwhile, was to “throw Taiwan a lifeline” by securing access corridors east of Taiwan while countering and complicating PRC military efforts to threaten Taiwan. This included three main elements.

  • Stop the blockade: Attrit Chinese forces in the Taiwan Strait, continue mine countermeasures, and degrade Chinese blockading forces.​
  • Increase US posture: Neutralize Chinese control of the South China Sea and demonstrate counter-invasion capabilities and rehearsals south and east of Taiwan.
  • Support Taiwan: Resupply and reinforce Taiwan, prioritizing mine countermeasures, anti-ship weapons, and beach defenses​.

China successfully established clear maritime superiority in the Taiwan Strait despite some US LRAUVs entering. The control team, based on analysis of China’s countermeasures, adjudicated that China was able to take advantage of the geographic constriction and relatively shallow waters of the strait to detect, disable, and destroy the LRAUVs through various means faster than replacement LRAUVs could enter the strait through the passages at its north and south ends. China was also able to disrupt and interdict much of the air and maritime traffic coming into Taiwan from the east, particularly given the limited east coast port capacity.

The conflict began to coalesce around four key geographic areas prioritized by Blue Team forces.

  • The northern end of the Taiwan Strait: China achieved clear air and surface superiority in this area. LRAUVs were the primary US capability directly contesting Chinese control of this area, due to the Blue Team’s unwillingness to risk losing any of its relatively small number of high-value attack submarines.
  • Ryukyus, including Okinawa: In this area, the United States and Japan established a clear advantage by employing aircraft and warships supported by land-based assets and LRAUVs. China did not attempt to contest US control of this area but was content to block movement toward Taiwan by US and Japanese forces in this area.
  • The Luzon Strait: This area was heavily contested, including by air, surface, and subsurface forces engaged in intense combat with high attrition on both sides. US LRAUVs were a significant contributor to this fight, swarming and sinking Chinese surface vessels as they attempted to move through the strait.
  • South China Sea: The United States kept its carrier strike groups in this area well protected and away from the Chinese mainland, which limited China’s ability to find and strike them. There was little role for US LRAUVs in this area.

The wargame concluded with the conflict escalating and no end in sight, with all three teams having learned some important lessons. Observations from key members of the Red Team, Blue Team, and Control Team follow.

Red (China) Team leader’s perspective

For Beijing, managing the Taiwan issue in this type of scenario encompasses three principal components. The first is to convince Taiwanese authorities that actions opposing Beijing’s desires will be punished. China does this by demonstrating the capacity to ratchet up military or paramilitary pressure at points around the island. The second is to convince Taiwanese authorities that they have no realistic hope of decisive support from outside powers. These efforts primarily leverage the suite of US-focused A2/AD capabilities the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has been developing for more than two decades. The third is to ensure that China retains a credible capacity to take control of the island by force.

LRAUVs present some, albeit limited, opportunity to impact each of these components.

The platform presents some utility to provide enhanced warning of PRC pressure operations or intent to use violence to impose Beijing’s will. China has been posturing kinetic assets for a short-notice use of force against Taiwan for decades. There has been a marked increase in their coercive posture around Taiwan in recent years. A transition to violent resolution could begin within days, or even hours, of receiving an order from Beijing. With the ability to loiter in place (unlike low-earth-orbit satellites or aircraft), LRAUV swarms in surveillance positions in the Taiwan Strait and off PRC marshalling points could augment national technical means to help differentiate between ambiguous and unambiguous warning.

The platform has the potential to shape PLA operations but not to deter them. The decision whether to use armed force to compel Taiwan to submit to CCP control will be a political decision, with relative military postures being only one of several considerations. Once the decision is made to place military force in the leading role, the PLA will calculate optimized campaign operations designed to mitigate the effect of Taiwanese or US resistance, including the already anticipated presence of LRAUV platforms. Platforms with counter-mine payloads could complicate blockade operations that include mining Taiwan’s ports. Swarming attacks by LRAUV platforms against PRC support vessels or capital ships could complicate PRC countermeasures. Thus, LRAUV platforms might have effect at shaping, but not deterring, PRC military operations.

LRAUVs’ contributions to defeating PRC blockade operations or an invasion will be a function of numbers of platforms, payload types, and their integration into larger US or Taiwanese systems of systems. PLA War Control theory and Systems Warfare doctrine emphasize warfare that is highly intense but also highly focused on carefully defined objectives. The result is a hybrid of maneuver and position warfare fought in a resource-intensive, and therefore potentially highly attritive, manner. PRC emphasis on optimization of military operations includes the ability to adapt to unforeseen battlefield developments. For these reasons, the impact of LRAUV platforms on PRC operations will be closely linked to volume and flexibility.

Strategic level

PRC military and paramilitary elements play a supporting role at the strategic level. Beijing’s objective at this level is to shape political thinking, primarily in Taipei and Washington. This is true even in more extreme strategies such as quarantines or blockades. Military coercion is more central in these strategies, but the objective remains to shape political thinking.

The utility of LRAUVs at the strategic level is less straightforward than at the operational level. It will probably be limited to shaping the choice and execution of China’s military operations to implement its strategy.

LRAUV platforms will likely be ineffective at providing enhanced strategic warning. A PRC decision to turn to armed force to resolve the Taiwan issue will almost certainly be rooted in CCP leaders’ political assessments that peaceful (albeit coerced) unification is no longer possible. LRAUVs are not positioned to monitor political decisions—only their operational manifestations.

These platforms will also likely be ineffective at deterring PRC strategic action. Although LRAUVs, in concert with other systems, have the potential to impose costs on China for military action, PRC leaders will almost certainly calculate that these platforms will be unable to deny them the achievement of key political objectives.

LRAUV platforms will not prove decisive in defeating a PRC strategy to resolve the Taiwan issue by use of military force—but they could play a role in shaping the course of the conflict. The CCP uses military force to drive political outcomes. The theory of victory underlying a blockade or invasion of Taiwan will be based on shaping political dynamics, not strictly military outcomes. By complicating certain types of operations, such as minefield components of blockade operations, LRAUV platforms could—in concert with other systems—help shape PRC military strategies so that Chinese leaders seek offramps from conflict rather than pursue complete domination of Taiwan.

Contextual limitations and political considerations

China has developed a wide range of military tools to deal with a Taiwan conflict scenario. Only those tools that operate in the maritime domain appear to be susceptible to LRAUV influence. This leaves significant elements of China’s toolkit unaffected. Notably, these include the mainland-based ballistic missiles, long-range artillery, and aircraft that would constitute the major part of a joint firepower strike designed to put logistical, communications, psychological, and political pressure on Taiwan’s leadership. Similarly, the majority of the A2/AD tools China has developed to hold potential US or third-party intervention at risk also operate predominately from PRC territory and are therefore beyond the influence of LRAUVs.

It is worth noting that the ways in which LRAUV kinetic payloads shape PRC operations will probably vary significantly depending on which party employs them. LRAUVs or shorter-ranged underwater platforms employed by Taiwan will almost certainly generate a different response than those employed by US forces. China will likely see Taiwan’s use as staying within the confines of a domestic conflict. Under its Active Defense doctrine, China might seek to avoid striking US targets—which would likely draw the United States into the conflict as a direct combatant—unless the United States has already struck PRC targets. Kinetic employment by US forces against PRC targets would likely escalate to a larger exchange of fires between the two sides. Depending on the scope and scale of escalation, this could increase PRC perceptions of the need to project larger amounts of military force across the Taiwan Strait earlier in the conflict, in an effort to compel resolution before the United States could posture forces for open-ended conflict.

Blue (US) Team leader’s perspective

From a US Blue Team perspective, Aquatic Tiger highlighted both the potential value and the inherent limitations of LRAUVs in a plausible China-Taiwan conflict. For Blue Team planners, the appeal of LRAUVs rested less in their ability to deliver decisive military effects than in their capacity to operate persistently and at scale, with comparatively low political and operational risk, in highly contested maritime environments. The wargame demonstrated that LRAUVs could support Blue Team objectives during selected phases of a crisis, while also revealing how quickly their utility narrowed as conflict escalated and China accepted higher levels of military risk.

Blue Team objectives and strategic logic

Across the turns of the wargame, the Blue Team pursued three consistent objectives: deterring further PRC escalation, maintaining access to the Western Pacific—particularly east of Taiwan—and preserving alliance cohesion while managing escalation risks with a nuclear-armed peer competitor. Blue Team decision-making was shaped by concerns related to attribution, proportionality, and alliance politics, which constrained both the timing and visibility of military actions.

Within this framework, Blue Team force posture prior to hostilities served two distinct purposes. The first was signaling—demonstrating resolve to deter PRC aggression, reassure allies and partners, and support diplomacy and strategic messaging with third parties. The second was positioning—quietly placing forces to gain an operational advantage should conflict occur. Aquatic Tiger demonstrated that LRAUVs were far better suited to the latter than the former.

Pre-hostilities posture and strategic messaging

LRAUVs’ low detectability, while operationally advantageous, limited their utility as signaling tools. Unlike air or surface platforms that can be employed deliberately for visible demonstrations of presence, LRAUVs operate largely outside public view. As a result, they contributed little to strategic messaging with allies, partners, or the broader international community.

During the wargame, strategic messaging and diplomatic efforts were more effectively supported by other assets, particularly those capable of generating clear, shareable imagery and data. Although contractor-operated concepts were discussed as a means of increasing volume, LRAUVs remained ill-suited to strategic messaging due to their limited fields of view and constrained sensor outputs. In short, their primary value before hostilities lay in positioning rather than persuasion.

ISR: Tactical value and strategic limits

LRAUVs contributed to intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance during the wargame, but Aquatic Tiger underscored clear limits to their ISR utility from a Blue Team perspective. These systems did not provide the strategic or operational indications and warning that Blue Team decision-makers would prioritize in a Taiwan contingency, such as detecting large-scale mobilization of PRC amphibious forces, munitions, or logistics.

Instead, LRAUV ISR proved most relevant at the tactical level, supporting localized awareness for operators already engaged in contested environments. In this role, LRAUVs complemented rather than substituted for airborne, space-based, and other ISR platforms, which proved more effective for broad-area coverage and early warning. The wargame reinforced that LRAUVs should not be viewed as primary ISR platforms for strategic or operational warning, but as contributors to tactical awareness once hostilities were imminent or under way.

Employment across escalation phrases

As the scenario progressed into the second turn and China declared a blockade, Blue Team objectives shifted from deterrence toward complicating PRC operations and imposing costs. LRAUVs were employed to augment ISR, support counter-blockade efforts, and contribute to mine countermeasures and maritime awareness. These contributions were incremental rather than decisive. LRAUVs enhanced the Blue Team’s ability to contest the blockade at the margins but did not alter the underlying balance of forces in the Taiwan Strait.

By the third turn, once China adopted a more explicit A2/AD posture along the First Island Chain, the constraints on LRAUV utility became more pronounced. Attrition increased rapidly as PRC forces demonstrated a willingness to destroy autonomous systems with limited concern for escalation. In the Taiwan Strait itself, LRAUVs were lost faster than they could be replaced, reinforcing the conclusion that constricted waters close to the mainland favored PRC countermeasures, including unconventional approaches.

In contrast, LRAUVs proved more effective in geographically differentiated areas such as the lower Ryukyus and portions of the Luzon Strait, where Blue Team and allied forces enjoyed greater standoff advantages, and where LRAUVs could complement land-based and maritime capabilities.

Blue Team leader perspectives on LRAUV capabilities in the Aquatic Tiger wargame

Within the wargame, the LRAUV system capabilities in the Blue Team’s inventory resonated with Blue Team planners because they reflected attributes aligned with their team’s operational needs—including long endurance, modular payloads, and forward deployability—without placing personnel at risk. These characteristics made such systems suitable for early deployment and for missions emphasizing persistence and access in contested environments.

At the same time, the LRAUV systems employed by the Blue Team during Aquatic Tiger proved not to be decisive platforms. Limited payload size and maneuverability constrained individual kinetic effects, while relatively slow transit speeds required advance planning and careful positioning. Once PRC decision-makers assumed Blue Team ownership of LRAUV operations, the political advantages of ambiguity diminished and kinetic employment risked escalation.

Kinetic employment and the access problem

During the wargame, the Control Team expressed skepticism regarding the kinetic utility of the LRAUVs in the Blue Team’s inventory, particularly against high-value targets such as large surface combatants or invasion force transports. Concerns focused on warhead size and maneuverability, leading to an adjudication that kinetic effects of individual LRAUVs would be limited.

Subsequent reflection suggests that this assessment might have undervalued the role LRAUVs could play in addressing one of the central challenges of a Taiwan contingency: gaining kinetic access inside heavily defended, shallow-water environments dominated by PRC A2/AD systems. In such environments, the principal constraint on Blue Team operations was often the ability to deliver kinetic effects at scale, rather than targeting information.

Viewed through this lens, the limitations appear less constraining than initially assumed. Employment as a form of point defense or a limited, mobile minefield aligns with the operational reality that adversary forces—particularly invasion and transport elements—must move through predictable maritime approaches. While individual warheads might be insufficient against large platforms, employment at scale could generate meaningful aggregate effects, consume PRC decision-maker bandwidth at multiple echelons, complicate PRC operations, and impose costs in areas otherwise inaccessible to Blue Team kinetic forces.

Constraints and integration challenges

Several clear constraints emerged from a Blue Team perspective. First, scale mattered. Individual LRAUVs had limited impact and were mission constrained by their pre-planned payloads. Only through numbers and pre-positioning could they influence PRC operations, and even then primarily at the tactical level. Second, command-and-control and integration challenges limited effectiveness. In this first iteration of wargaming, LRAUVs were considered largely as a standalone capability, fully leveraging neither the operational benefits of collaboration between and among LRAUVs at scale nor of teaming LRAUVs with other manned and unmanned systems.

Third, geography was decisive. LRAUVs were most useful in areas where PRC land-based sensors, aircraft, and missile forces constrained Blue Team air and surface operations, but least effective in narrow waters where maritime militia and other countermeasures could be employed. Attrition, while expected, raised questions regarding sustainment and replacement under combat conditions.

Strategic implications for the Blue Team

From a Blue Team perspective, Aquatic Tiger suggests that LRAUVs should be regarded as enabling capabilities rather than decisive instruments of deterrence or warfighting. Their greatest value lies in pre-hostilities and early crisis phases, where they can support positioning, access, and selected tactical effects at relatively low risk to personnel. As conflict escalates, their role narrows and must be integrated carefully with broader joint and allied operations.

The wargame also underscored the importance of allied and partner considerations. LRAUVs’ employment by third parties, including Taiwan and regional allies, could complicate PRC political and military calculations in ways distinct from their employment exclusively by Blue Team forces, particularly given Beijing’s sensitivity to legitimacy and escalation dynamics.

Bottom line for Blue Team planners

The Blue Team perspective emerging from Aquatic Tiger indicates that LRAUVs could occupy an important, but bounded, role in a Taiwan contingency. When employed with disciplined expectations and integrated into a broader operational framework, they can improve access, complicate adversary planning, consume adversary decision-maker bandwidth, and reduce risk to personnel. They cannot substitute for robust force posture, alliance coordination, or timely Blue Team strategic decision-making. Their value lies not in decisiveness, but in enabling options in environments where other capabilities face prohibitive risk.

Technical and tactical limitations

A number of technical and tactical considerations arose during the wargame that are relevant to consider in terms of potential challenges to the effectiveness of the small, autonomous, expendable LRAUVs employed in Aquatic Tiger, including limitations on intelligence collection, difficulties in attacking moving targets, and potential countermeasures.

ISR limitations

The collection of optical, electromagnetic, and sonar data by sensors on a small LRAUV is limited by the size of sonar carried and the low height of optics and collection antennas. The high density of maritime traffic along the Chinese coast—particularly of military vessels during a crisis—creates an extremely cluttered environment in which acoustic sensors with limited range and aperture, and lacking accurate positional information, offer limited insight. Small, lightweight, electromagnetic spectrum sensors and limited on-vehicle processing capability offer similarly limited capability to provide intelligence-quality electromagnetic spectrum data. Wide-area collection of limited-quality data can be leveraged to contribute to maritime domain awareness in general, but is more applicable to tracking commercial vessels of interest or sanctions enforcement than supporting military operations. A mast height of about one meter offers limited visibility in open ocean environments, where swells of 1–2 meters are common, offering significant periods of obstructed observation and difficulty ascertaining range, target angle, and vessel identification at more than a few nautical miles.

Target detection, classification, identification, localization, tracking, engagement, and assessment

Many of the challenges to intelligence collection are also relevant to completing a “detect to engagement sequence” or “kill chain” for an LRAUV to attack a target with its onboard warhead. Acoustic sensors for individual vehicles offer limited directional discrimination and require robust communications among swarms to reduce errors by taking directional readings from multiple vehicles. Detecting a potential target in a likely target-rich environment is not necessarily difficult, but the other steps to determine how effectively a target can be engaged pose different challenges depending on whether they are based on acoustic, optical, or electromagnetic sensing. The difficulty ascertaining range makes a decision to start a “run in” especially problematic because LRAUVs have only a limited amount of battery power to make a high-speed run to a target. They must also be close to have reasonable potential to intercept a fast-moving target, or even to chase down a slower target from behind.


The wargame did not explore the specifics of how decisions to authorize individual autonomous lethal attacks would be made. The decision to conduct a kinetic attack autonomously also could add considerable complexity to the planning aspect of the mission. Current US Department of Defense restrictions on autonomous lethal engagement might be difficult to satisfy without communications between a weapon release authority and the LRAUV. The workaround of having a contractor operate the vehicle might not eliminate this complication. These policy restrictions could also affect the viability of foreign military sales. Assuming policy issues can be worked out, aspects of international law (e.g., The Hague Convention on mines) require restrictions on location of use and notification of third parties that complicate planning and operational employment of “indiscriminate attack” by lethal autonomous systems.

Potential countermeasures

A number of potential counters to small LRAUVs were raised in Aquatic Tiger, ranging from broad sweeping using modified minesweeping or fishing gear, localized use of such sweeps to “clear limiting lines of approach,” the use of obstructions (nets, modified oil containment equipment), intervening lower-cost vessels to guard flanks of transit lanes, use of “hunter-killer” unmanned underwater vehicles (UUVs), and UAVs alone or in conjunction with the above (vulnerability while snorkeling/surfacing might be exploitable). Defensive barrier modifications and active defense systems on ships themselves are possible in analogous fashion to those on tanks for aerial drones. Double-hulled vessels are fairly resilient to contact explosions and are used to sweep areas as attractors. Reviving the historical use of torpedo nets in various configurations could prove effective. The development of torpedoes that ran at depth and exploded under the keel rendered such nets ineffective, but they could effectively counter UUVs impacting the hull at slow relative speed, particularly against ships at anchor or in port.

Recommendations for Congress

Autonomous systems broadly provide US and foreign forces the benefit of ambiguity of attribution and deployed intent. LRAUVs can particularly shine, given their potential oceanographic and environmental use, which might obfuscate the purpose, to be deployed at or before the first sign of indicators or warnings at the strategic level. However, to be effective, the systems must be better resourced and included in existing Foreign Military Sales (FMS) programs or through more creative export means such as encouraging co-production or direct commercial sales.  

  • Oversight and acquisition follow-through: Congress should consider how LRAUVs can be used across theaters. Due to technical requirements, LRAUVs perform best in calmer waters, including in littorals and inland seas such as the Black Sea. Congress has already recognized the importance of such systems and included them in the Fiscal Year 2025 National Defense Authorization Act (FY 2025 NDAA), Section 1032, which defines LRAUVs as systems that exceed one thousand nautical miles in range and are capable of operating completely submerged at sea with modular payloads. Section 1032 further requires competitive demonstrations of these systems for the services. Congress, however, has not yet passed follow-up legislation on these competitive demonstrations or on the acquisition of LRAUVs. In the medium term, Congress should follow up on the required competitive demonstrations outlined in Section 1032 of the FY 2025 NDAA and solicit immediate feedback from the services on next steps for LRAUV development.
  • Export controls and dual-use framing: Congress should consider leveraging the oceanographic and environmental uses of LRAUVs with modular capacity to reclassify such systems for export from the more-restrictive ITAR (International Traffic in Arms Regulations) list to the less-restrictive EAR (Export Administration Regulations) category. By encouraging the sale of the LRAUVs separate from specific advanced kinetic and electronic effects, the United States can enhance the credibility of such systems for environmental and oceanographic use and encourage further indigenous modular innovations. To support such efforts, Congress should direct the Department of Commerce to consider additional support for the export of US LRAUVs to countries of interest. It should also consider a pilot program for a special license exemption for select countries purchasing such systems for environmental purposes.
  • Further analysis of LRAUVs’ impact: Congress should encourage more research and wargaming on the utility of LRAUVs as the technology develops. While this report posits that the strategic and operational effects of these systems are presently limited, continued technological development and the integration of LRAUVs into larger frameworks—such as regional maritime surveillance and interdiction—might yield higher-tier effects. Providing further encouragement—and, importantly, appropriations—toward analysis of LRAUVs is essential to maintaining a qualitative edge in this frontier technology and realizing its potential as a contributor to deterrence and war preparedness.

Key findings

The Aquatic Tiger Wargame and follow-on analysis led the authors to a set of key findings.

  • These types of LRAUVs are uniquely suited to forward deployment into sensitive areas during a crisis prior to hostilities, when US senior leadership is likely seeking to minimize escalation risks and conserve resources for a potential conflict. The lack of personnel placed at risk, along with LRAUVs’ low cost and low signature, could allow these platforms to conduct surveillance for extended periods to provide situational awareness and warning of impending attack. Their long-range capability could also equate to a long dwell time in a target area during an extended, open-ended period of crisis, meaning they offer a lower risk of burnout than other types of surveillance platforms. Their deniable, unclear national origin is also an advantage in terms of limiting the risk of crisis escalation. However, this lower risk profile, deniability, and ambiguity also mean that China could attack or interdict US LRAUVs prior to the outbreak of hostilities (including with unconventional means like fishing nets) with a relatively low fear of uncontrolled escalation.
  • Geography is a key consideration for LRAUV employment, and chokepoints can be a double-edged sword. US LRAUVs could be deployed into areas—including into constricted areas north and south of Taiwan—where PRC land-based sensors, surface-to-air missiles, aircraft, surface ships, and missile strike forces and sensors make air and surface operations high risk and high cost. Though constricted waters advantage Chinese countermeasures against LRAUVs moving through such areas, maritime chokepoints can also be excellent places for LRAUVs to loiter and detect vessels, as well as a good location to mass large numbers of LRAUVs to conduct swarming ambushes against surface vessels moving through the area. For sustained combat operations in the Taiwan Strait itself, the wargame’s results suggested it would be far preferable to have autonomous underwater vehicles deployed directly from Taiwan’s west coast into the strait rather than attempt to sustain a presence of LRAUVs in the strait by moving them via chokepoints where they could be more easily interdicted.
  • Sufficient numbers of platforms and sufficient advance planning are key factors for successful LRAUV employment. The limited payload size and relatively slower speed of LRAUVs require advance planning to ensure the right mix of payload capabilities is in the right place at the right time. Swarming capability and multiple types of LRAUV payloads could provide synergy, particularly to better position for attacks against fast-moving military vessels. Though attrition of LRAUVs will likely be high, large numbers of LRAUVs sustained over time could have a great impact.
  • Alternative uses for LRAUVs discussed in the wargame after-action discussions could dramatically increase their cost efficiency in a conflict if the United States is willing to operate them across an area much broader than the vicinity of Taiwan, particularly against slower, non-military vessels. Use against military targets and in constricted areas close to China could be effective, but this is probably not the most efficient use of such LRAUVs. They could instead be used, for example, to shadow high-value Chinese merchant and transport ships moving through the region to support China’s war effort—selectively signaling the US ability to put these ships at risk to influence Beijing’s calculus and then disabling or sinking them to hamper China’s war sustainment effort. LRAUVs could also be used to block access in and out of China’s mainland ports from a distance, as a sort of maneuverable minefield. LRAUVs could also be used in a conflict to bog down Chinese naval, paramilitary, and commercial vessels in areas north and south of Taiwan as part of a maritime insurgency approach.
  • The results of this initial Aquatic Tiger wargame suggest that additional analysis, wargaming, modeling, technical experimentation, live exercises, and simulation on key issues related to such LRAUVs are warranted. Subjects to consider include: how units of such drones would be best organized and employed by the United States, Taiwan, and US allies in such a contingency; whether such LRAUVs could be produced at a low enough cost and in sufficient scale to be effective; what tactical-level synergies these LRAUVs would have operating in concert with other manned and unmanned platforms; the potential efficacy of various Chinese countermeasures; and China’s potential employment of its own LRAUVs.

About the authors

Markus Garlauskas is the director of the Indo-Pacific Security Initiative of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and was the wargame director for the Aquatic Tiger wargame.

Nicholas Takeuchi is a retired US Navy submarine officer and was a Blue (US) Team participant in the Aquatic Tiger wargame.

Drew Holliday is a former US deputy defense intelligence officer for China and was the Red (China) Team leader for the Aquatic Tiger wargame.

Paul Vebber is a retired US Navy and former assistant director for wargaming and future warfare research at the Naval Undersea Warfare Center. He was a part of the Control Team in the Aquatic Tiger wargame.

Adam Kozloski is a nonresident senior fellow with the Indo-Pacific Security Initiative and former congressional staffer. He was a Blue (US) Team participant in the Aquatic Tiger wargame.

Acknowledgements and disclaimer

The Aquatic Tiger wargame and this associated issue brief were made possible by a financial grant and technical input from Albacore Inc., a developer of autonomous underwater vehicles, but Albacore personnel did not participate in developing the issue brief and the brief does not represent Albacore’s views. The Atlantic Council maintains strict intellectual independence for all of its projects and publications. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects. 

The authors are especially grateful to Colonel Gittipong “Eddie” Paruchabutr, IPSI nonresident senior fellow (US Army, retired) for his generosity in donating his time and support as wargame coordinator. The authors are also thankful to David Helvey for his time, expertise, and support in the project. Thanks also go to IPSI nonresident fellow Andrew Brown for his contributions to this project, and to IPSI program assistant Audrey Roh for her support. 

The views expressed in this publication are those of the individual authors of each section.

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The Indo-Pacific Security Initiative (IPSI) informs and shapes the strategies, plans, and policies of the United States and its allies and partners to address the most important rising security challenges in the Indo-Pacific, including China’s growing threat to the international order and North Korea’s destabilizing nuclear weapons advancements. IPSI produces innovative analysis, conducts tabletop exercises, hosts public and private convenings, and engages with US, allied, and partner governments, militaries, media, other key private and public-sector stakeholders, and publics.

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Federal agencies under pressure need smarter systems, not tougher people https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/federal-agencies-under-pressure-need-smarter-systems-not-tougher-people/ Thu, 19 Mar 2026 20:28:04 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=911135 Resilience is an important trait for national security practitioners, but it is not a solution for problems with agency and department design. Better systems and strategies can ensure that individuals are fully prepared and ready to respond to crises, rather than consistently under strain.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The institutions charged with keeping the United States secure operate under chronic strain that can make them prone to failure.
  • Many current efforts to fix this focus on helping individuals operate effectively within flawed systems.
  • But it’s only by redesigning the flawed systems that the US government can create the readiness on which national security depends.

The hours are long and the pace rarely eases, including shifts of twelve to fourteen hours that inevitably erode family and social life. In theory, there are guardrails. In practice, the approval processes meant to limit overwork can become a formality: the reality of excessive hours reduced to a signature on a page, without changing the workload or capturing the extent of the time burden. The culture reinforces it. Leadership may say the right things, but the cycle doesn’t break, and in some corners of the institution, burnout is even treated as a point of pride. The quiet signal that this has become normal: the organization celebrates the 2 a.m. email. People are mentally drained, but stepping back to recover can feel professionally risky because there’s a persistent sense that if you can’t do it, someone else will, and asking for help can damage your credibility.

The above vignette is a composite scenario, drawing on multiple examples raised by participants—national security practitioners, psychiatry and health experts, and think tank experts on individual resilience—across a series of roundtables conducted by Atlantic Council researchers in 2025 and held under the Chatham House rule.

The roundtables focused on an underappreciated problem: The institutions charged with keeping the United States secure—including US military services and combatant commands, the intelligence community (e.g., CIA, National Security Agency), the Department of Homeland Security, and the State Department—operate under chronic strain that can make them dangerously prone to failure in moments of crisis. Many of the “resilience” efforts created to address this problem—wellness training and mindset workshops—focus on helping individuals operate within flawed systems.

Only by adapting those systems can the US government deliver long-term readiness enabling reliable performance under stress that US national security requires. Other key takeaways included:

  • Individual resilience is not the solution to chronic strain in national security institutions. It is a signal that reveals where systems, incentives, and workload assumptions are misaligned with human limits.
  • In national security roles, moments of surge, uncertainty, and high-consequence decision-making are frequent. When these moments arise, systems need more than just extraordinary individual effort; they need built-in buffers and redundancies.
  • Many resilience initiatives are designed to expand coping tools and wellness support programs yet leave the stressors themselves—tempo, staffing, and decision bottlenecks—unchanged. While certainly well-intentioned, these initiatives unintentionally shift the responsibility to overcome the stressors back on the individual. Other incentives then reinforce this overextension as the operating model. A credible systems approach requires measurable leadership accountability, usable leading-indicator data, and explicit trade-offs about tempo, mission scope, redundancy, and availability norms. The goal is sustained readiness and reliable performance under stress.
  • Leadership behavior is key. Ideally, leaders would express their own vulnerabilities by openly expressing uncertainty, acknowledging moments of strain, and modeling both recovery and the soundness of seeking help. This could increase trust among team members, as well as the likelihood that risks are addressed early.

Resilience is an attribute of systems

Building individual resilience has become a default response to strain across national security institutions. As organizations confront sustained operational tempo, recurring crises, and prolonged uncertainty, resilience is routinely invoked as a way to preserve individual performance under pressure. In practice, however, the term is often used in ways that misidentify both the source of strain and the locus of responsibility.

This issue brief argues that resilience—which the Adrienne Arsht National Security Resilience Initiative defines as “the ability of individuals, societies, and systems to anticipate, withstand, recover from, adapt to, and bounce forward from shocks and disruptions”—is not primarily an individual attribute. It is a property of systems that shape, support, and sustain individual resilience over time. Individual resilience matters, but not because it can be strengthened indefinitely or relied upon to compensate for structural misalignment. Human adaptation and resilience do have limitations, and through insights from research and roundtable discussions with national security leaders, practitioners, and subject-matter experts, we have underscored the need for a more deliberate systems design in national security institutions.

People do not enter national security roles with identical baselines, nor do they experience or recover from stress in the same way. Those differences are important, because prolonged exposure to ambiguity, moral complexity, and high-stakes decisions can be a relentless strain on attention and judgment. These demands cannot be carried indefinitely, regardless of an individual’s motivation or commitment. It is simply a matter of human limits.

Many institutions appear resilient, often because of highly committed individuals whose extended availability and personal sacrifice can compensate for system strain in the short term. Over time, however, that compensatory model becomes unsustainable, and the earliest cracks often show up in decision-making. Attention narrows, teams become less flexible in how they think through options, and risk judgment becomes less calibrated. Those effects can accumulate quietly over time, until an organization is less adaptive precisely when adaptation is most needed.

The strategic costs of system strain are significant. In national security work, one frequently sees surge conditions, leadership transitions, and external shocks as recurring features of the operating environment. Systems that depend primarily on individual efforts and resilience often lack the buffers needed to respond effectively when those stressful moments arrive. When an individual starts to feel that inevitable burnout, their performance falters precisely when resilience is most needed. The appropriate response is not to ask people to absorb more. Rather, it is to relocate responsibility from individuals to institutions themselves; to overhaul systems so that they operate within human constraints, protect sound judgment, retain expertise, and remain effective over time.

Where current “resilience models” fall short

The concept of resilience is now embedded in the language of national security institutions. Here, “national security” refers to the interconnected ecosystem of defense and security organizations that plan and execute operations, generate intelligence, manage crises, and sustain readiness, as well as the enabling systems that support that work (including the military health system and other readiness services). In these settings, the day-to-day reality is high-consequence decision-making under uncertainty, persistent time pressure, constrained staffing pipelines, and recurring exposure to morally complex and emotionally salient material—including, increasingly, remote operations such as unmanned aircraft systems.

Faced with persistent crises, extended operational tempo, and mounting uncertainty, leaders routinely invoke resilience as a way to sustain performance. In many cases, however, resilience functions less as a strategy than as an expectation: that individuals will adapt to conditions the system itself does not adequately address.

Most contemporary resilience efforts rest on a quiet assumption that personnel are broadly interchangeable and capable of absorbing increasing demands if given the right tools or training. From this perspective, resilience becomes a personal skill set, something that can be strengthened through workshops, coaching, wellness programming, or mindset interventions. These efforts are often well-intentioned. They are also insufficient in environments where strain is chronic and the stakes remain high.

The predictable result is compensation, where highly motivated people bridge structural gaps through personal sacrifice. They devote longer hours, defer recovery, and suppress their own distress, all in service of the mission. For a time, this preserves output and the system appears functional. But the apparent stability is misleading. It requires extraordinary effort from a finite group of people, while quietly depleting the attention, judgment, and recovery that sustained performance depends on.

The evidence increasingly reflects this pattern. Burnout is a recurring occupational risk among military personnel, with documented links to work environment factors (e.g., workload and shift work), psychological strain, and downstream consequences that matter for readiness and mission effectiveness. Within the Military Health System, burnout has also been associated with adverse health outcomes and reduced retention—exactly the kind of expertise loss that “individual resilience” programming cannot offset on its own. And concern about chronic psychological risk is not limited to traditional deployment patterns: Recent defense policy has directed the Department of Defense to study mental health impacts among military drone pilots, underscoring the growing recognition that remote and high-tempo operational roles can carry meaningful mental health burden.

When depletion shows up, it often does not look like a dramatic failure. It can appear first as degraded decision quality, with narrower thinking, reduced creativity, lower tolerance for ambiguity, and less willingness to challenge assumptions. It can also surface as interpersonal strain, reduced patience, and a diminished ability to adapt quickly when new information changes the picture. These shifts are consequential in national security contexts because the central work of these institutions is making sound judgments in real time, under uncertainty, with high consequences.

Many resilience initiatives inadvertently reinforce the conditions that require resilience in the first place. When the organizational answer to overload is “be more resilient,” the system signals that overload is expected and adaptation is the solution. This normalizes strain and diverts attention away from the real drivers of chronic demand, including sustained operational tempo, understaffing, unclear priorities, and incentives that reward constant responsiveness. It can also create a double bind: The system continues to demand extraordinary individual effort, while the individual is expected to treat strain as a personal shortcoming to be managed privately.

This brief takes a different view of individual resilience. It is not irrelevant, nor is it the solution. Instead, it should be treated as an important signal. Properly understood, levels of individual resilience give leaders a clearer read on how the system is functioning, where strain is coming from, and what needs to be redesigned. Used this way, resilience does not justify asking individuals to absorb more. It clarifies where institutions are demanding too much and why.

This is the point where individual resilience becomes a critical tool, not as a mandate for people to adapt indefinitely, but as a way to see how systems’ choices interact with human limits and where redesign is most urgent.

Individual resilience is context-dependent, shaped by the relationships, communities, and institutions we are embedded in.


–Roundtable participant

Why individual resilience should force system overhaul

Resilience is ever evolving: It is shaped long before individuals enter national security roles and continues to be influenced by the environments in which they operate. Biology, early development, and cumulative stress exposure contribute to how individuals tolerate and recover from pressure. The point is not to pathologize normal human responses to sustained strain. The point is to be honest about variability and limits.

Institutions typically treat individual variability in one of two ways. Either they ignore it, designing for an “average” person who does not exist, or they attempt to manage it primarily through individual interventions. Both approaches miss the core insight. Individual resilience is not primarily something systems can manufacture. It is something systems must account for and nurture within people. Thinking seriously about individual resilience makes the system’s assumptions visible, including the ones baked into missions, tempos, staffing models, career pathways, and leadership expectations.

People bring vastly different resilience profiles into roles that demand sustained judgment, adaptability, and high-quality decision-making. Some tolerate prolonged stress with fewer immediate effects. Others experience faster depletion of cognitive reserves. These differences are not moral failures or character defects. They are simply predictable variations in human functioning. The systems that assume each person has the same capacity is, in essence, baking inequality into its performance expectations, and then treating individual differences as deficits.

The more consequential issue, however, is not baseline variability. It is the cumulative effect of depletion and what it does to decision-making over time. National security environments place sustained demands on attention and judgment. Under chronic load, the first changes are often subtle: Thinking narrows. People rely more heavily on familiar patterns. Uncertainty becomes harder to sit with. Teams may lock in on a conclusion too early or simplify complex choices. They may default to routine when adaptive thinking is required. Over time, judgment can become more rigid and less reliable, with people either narrowing or widening their threat interpretation in ways that are not well matched to the situation. The work still gets done, but the quality of analysis and the ability to adjust course can quietly erode, leaving the system less adaptable precisely when conditions shift.

This is why the individual resilience conversation matters, but only if it is used correctly. Individual resilience research does not tell institutions to teach more coping skills and declare success. On the contrary, it tells institutions that the operating environment is placing sustained demands on people in predictable ways, and that these effects compound. If leadership does not manage cumulative demand, decision quality will degrade regardless of how committed individuals are.

Some institutional responses can become counterproductive. Institutions often try to “select for resilience” by screening, hiring, and promoting those who appear to handle stress well, but that does not eliminate human limits. Even the most capable people struggle under sustained load; the difference is the timing and visibility of their strain, not immunity to it. Similarly, short recovery windows do not solve the problem if baseline demand remains high. Recovery is not only about time off. It is about whether systems allow genuine disengagement and whether demand is paced in a way that permits replenishment.

The implication is straightforward: Systems that rely on constant availability, chronic overload, and surge-as-normal operation are not built for long-term effectiveness. They not only put decision-making at risk, but they also erode readiness, retention, trust, and institutional memory over time. Individual resilience should be treated partially as a signal about how the system is functioning and where strain is being generated. Taken seriously, it should drive a rethinking of what “systems approaches” to resilience actually mean in practice. In addition to programs that train individuals to cope, it means redesigning the conditions of work (workload, staffing, priorities, and decision processes) so sustained performance is built into the institution. It also means clarifying decision rights and escalation pathways, and protecting recovery time, so the system is not dependent on extraordinary individual sacrifice.

If individual resilience helps identify where strain accumulates, the next question is why many systems approaches fail to correct it. Participants at the three Atlantic Council roundtables pointed repeatedly to a familiar pattern: Even when supports are added, the underlying drivers and incentives remain unchanged.

How systems approaches often fail

Many systems approaches to resilience fail because they stop short of redesign. They add support without changing assumptions. They layer resources without recalibrating expectations. In practice, they still rely on individual adaptation to keep the system running.

This is the central weakness of many resilience initiatives: They look like systems interventions but function as burden-shifting by making chronic demand more tolerable rather than making demand sustainable. Too often, they treat coping as the solution by expanding training, wellness resources, and self-management expectations, while the structural drivers of overload, including tempo, staffing, and decision bottlenecks, remain unchanged. Roundtable participants described this dynamic directly: The organization “puts resources forward,” but the underlying cycle doesn’t change, and resilience becomes a required module to complete rather than a redesign of how the work is structured.

Incentives then reinforce the underlying dysfunction. Leaders may endorse sustainability while still rewarding constant responsiveness, and organizations may speak about boundaries while promoting those who violate them. In practice, incentives foster behavior or action more quickly than policies, and they can lock in a model of success that depends on continual overextension.

The result is a system that appears robust but is structurally fragile. It performs because individuals compensate, stretching time, attention, and availability to keep the mission moving. Over time, the costs show up in quieter but consequential ways: Decision-making becomes less reliable, teams lose range, and experienced personnel disengage or leave, taking hard-won knowledge with them. When surge conditions, leadership transitions, or external shocks hit, there is often little remaining slack to absorb the shock, and systems without real buffers struggle to adapt quickly enough.

True systems resilience is not achieved by adding more support to an unchanged structure. It requires making deliberate choices about how demand is created, prioritized, and resourced, including how tempo is set, how work is handed off, where redundancy is built in, and what leaders are rewarded for. The goal is not comfort. The goal is sustained readiness and reliable performance under stress.

What an overhaul requires

If resilience is to be treated seriously in national security contexts, then systems approaches must be overhauled, not layered. This begins with acknowledging that many current efforts focus on helping individuals operate effectively within flawed systems rather than redesigning those systems.

First, institutions must address cumulative demand directly by treating operational tempo as a design choice, not a fact of life. That means defining what qualifies as a true surge, setting guardrails so that surge mode does not become the baseline, and building real slack into staffing and schedules. High-tempo periods should then be absorbed by the system rather than by individual overextension. Leaders can put this into practice through workload triage and explicit lists of things employees should stop doing during a period of high demand. They can set clearer thresholds for what gets paused during surges and lead routine after-action reviews that examine not only operational outcomes but the cost in capacity. The goal is straightforward: Create pacing, redundancy, and decision space so readiness is protected even when the environment remains demanding.

Second, leadership accountability must extend beyond crisis performance to include sustainability, which must be measurable. Leaders should be evaluated on whether they manage workload and tempo responsibly, protect decision space, and retain and develop talent over time. That means making incentives explicit: rewarding leaders who build redundancy, delegate authority, and normalize handing off work and scheduling time for recovery. Alternatively, it is essential to correct leaders who rely on constant responsiveness and chronic overextension as their operating model.

In addition, leadership behavior matters in a more human, immediate way than institutions often acknowledge. Roundtable participants emphasized that when leaders are willing to show up as humans, including naming uncertainty, acknowledging strain, and modeling both the action of seeking help and recovery without stigma, it can reset the temperature of an entire team. That kind of credible vulnerability builds trust, widens the space for honest upward feedback, and makes it more likely that problems are surfaced early rather than managed privately until they become crises. In practice, it is one of the fastest ways leaders can shift culture without launching a new program.

Third, training should be used to reinforce sound system design, not to compensate for its absence. Institutions can keep resilience training, but they should pair it with concrete changes that reduce avoidable strain. Training should focus on the skills that improve team and mission performance under stress. Examples of these skills include communication under pressure, decision-making in uncertainty, escalation and delegation norms, and how leaders recognize early signs of overload (aided by data, as discussed below) and make appropriate changes. Most importantly, training should come with a feedback loop. What trainees report about friction points and recurring strain should be treated as operational data that informs redesign, not as an individual coping gap.

Fourth, measurement needs to shift from documenting damage to preventing it, and the roundtables made it clear that good data is one of the few levers that reliably alters behavior. Attrition and burnout rates are lagging indicators. By the time they move, the system has already been drawing down its people and its capacity for a while. A more serious approach is to track leading indicators of strain that leaders can act on, including workload distribution, surge frequency and duration, after-hours expectations, backlogs, approval bottlenecks, vacancy and coverage gaps, and the amount of time teams are operating in “urgent” mode.

Equally important, though, is the usability of data. Leaders need a small set of metrics that can be reviewed routinely, not an elaborate dashboard that no one trusts or uses. The goal is to make strain visible early and tie it to decision points. When surge becomes the baseline, something needs to be paused, rescoped, or resourced. When bottlenecks appear, authority and process need to be adjusted. When certain roles show chronic after-hours load, something needs to be redesigned such as staffing, handoffs, and coverage.

In addition, measurement should be paired with accountability and action. Teams should be able to surface what the data means in plain language, and leaders should be expected to respond with a corrective plan, not a wellness reminder. Over time, this creates an institutional habit of using data to manage tempo and protect readiness, rather than using data only to explain why people are leaving.

Finally, institutions should make trade-offs explicit and operationalize them, rather than leaving them implicit and pushing the costs down to individuals. A genuine overhaul requires leaders to define what “sustainable tempo” means for their mission sets, establish thresholds for when work is rescoped or paused, and build redundancy as a deliberate design feature in critical functions. It also requires resetting norms around constant availability by clarifying what truly constitutes an emergency, creating predictable coverage and handoff models, and rewarding teams that protect continuity without relying on chronic overextension.

The practical question is not whether the work is important. It is how the institution will prioritize, resource, and pace the work so that readiness is preserved when conditions tighten. When those choices are made openly, organizations can align expectations with capacity and reduce the hidden risk created by always-on operating models.

Conclusion

National security institutions will always operate in environments defined by uncertainty, periodic surge, and high stakes. The question is whether those institutions treat resilience as a personal expectation or as a systems responsibility. The next step is to choose a small set of measurable indicators, align accountability to them, and redesign the points of highest friction, where chronic strain is generated. Done well, this shifts resilience from a story we tell people to a capability that institutions strengthen.

Caitlin Thompson spent over a decade at the Department of Veterans Affairs, where she served as the executive director’s Office of Suicide Prevention. She holds a PhD in clinical psychology from the University of Virginia and is a nonresident senior fellow at the Adrienne Arsht National Security Resilience Initiative.

This issue brief draws on a series of three Atlantic Council roundtables with national security practitioners, experts in psychiatry and health, and think tank experts on individual resilience to identify what national security institutions must redesign to sustain readiness under chronic strain.

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The Adrienne Arsht National Security Resilience Initiative, in the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, works to advance resilience as a core tenet of US and allied national security policy and practice.

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Italy faces a dangerous gap between stability on paper and citizens’ lived experience https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/italy-faces-a-dangerous-gap-between-stability-on-paper-and-citizens-lived-experience/ Wed, 18 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=911986 Giorgia Meloni’s three-year tenure as prime minister is unusually long by recent Italian standards. As her government faces its biggest test yet with a referendum on judicial reforms, what explains Meloni’s relative stability—and the frequent turnover that preceded it? A deep dive into economic and political indicators sheds light on Italy’s path forward.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Italian politicians take office expecting a brief tenure, which has led to a pile-up of contradictory legislation bogging down courts and government agencies.
  • The country’s rapidly aging population and economic backbone of small family-owned firms make the economic growth urgently needed more difficult to achieve.
  • The central question for Italy is why its free and democratic institutions struggle to generate predictability and effective governance.

This is the ninth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

If one focuses exclusively on aggregate indicators of institutional quality, Italy’s political and economic evolution since the mid-1990s scores high. Indexes such as those produced by Freedom House consistently classify the country as a consolidated democracy with strong political rights and civil liberties, while measures of market orientation point to broadly open and competitive economic institutions. In line with this broader assessment, the Freedom Index also places Italy among countries with strong democratic and market-oriented institutional frameworks. Yet these reassuring classifications coexist with chronic political instability and a persistent sense that institutions do not work as intended. The central question, therefore, is not whether Italy’s institutions are formally free, but why they have increasingly struggled to generate predictability and effective governance in practice.

To understand this tension, some country-specific context is essential. Since the early 1990s, Italy has undergone a profound political transformation following the collapse of its postwar party system. What is often described as the transition to the “Second Republic” was accompanied by repeated electoral reforms, the emergence and disappearance of new political parties, and a persistent pattern of short-lived governments. Since 1994, Italy has had many prime ministers and governments, and even the average time in office for senators and house representatives has shortened significantly. This instability has not weakened democratic rules as such: Alternation in power has remained regular, elections have remained competitive, and constitutional guarantees have held. But it has profoundly shaped the incentives under which political and administrative institutions operate.

The high score Italy receives on the legislative constraints on the executive component of the Political subindex should be interpreted carefully. The score is due to the perfect bicameralism and to the fact that governments are typically formed by coalitions, which require ongoing negotiation among parties with heterogeneous preferences. However, these legislative constraints are often bypassed by the executive governments of the second republic with more and more frequent government decrees and confidence votes, which reduce the quality of laws. In an environment characterized by frequent government turnover and weak retrospective accountability, unfettered executive power would increase the risk of large and difficult-to-reverse policy mistakes. Under such conditions, strong checks and balances operate as a form of institutional insurance, limiting the potential damage associated with political instability rather than generating it. In other words, given Italy’s political volatility and informational constraints, the institutional frictions that limit executive power play a stabilizing role, and the real worries relate to the frequent government decrees aiming to bypass such checks and balances.

Political instability has far-reaching consequences for how governing takes place. Short political horizons systematically alter legislative incentives. When governments expect a brief tenure, the political drive for visible action exceeds careful implementation. In Italy, this logic has translated into a sustained increase in legislative output since the mid-1990s (see, for example, Gratton et al., 2021). In the early 1980s, the Italian Parliament typically approved on the order of 250–300 laws per year. By the late 1990s and early 2000s, annual legislative output regularly exceeded 500 acts, a large share of which consisted of emergency decree-laws later ratified and expanded by Parliament. When political survival depends more on signaling activity than on long-term outcomes, frequent lawmaking becomes individually rational even if it increases systemic complexity (Aghion et al., 2006; Gratton et al., 2021).

Repeated attempts to reform public procurement in Italy provide a concrete illustration. Successive revisions of the public procurement code (Codice dei contratti pubblici) were introduced (notably in 2016, with major amendments in 2020 and 2023) with the stated objective of simplification and acceleration. Yet each reform layered new rules onto an already dense regulatory framework, generating long transition phases and widespread uncertainty for administrations and firms. Rather than resolving bottlenecks, reform activity itself became a source of legal opacity. This outcome is not accidental: It reflects a political environment in which legislating serves as a signal of decisiveness under instability, while the costs of complexity materialize only after governments have moved on.

Given this sustained accumulation of legislation, the burden of adjustment shifts to the administrative and judicial system. Bureaucracies are required to implement rules that are frequently amended, internally inconsistent, and embedded in dense webs of cross-references. As a result, administrative effort is increasingly diverted from implementation to interpretation. Discretion narrows not because rules are clear, but because ambiguity raises the risk of error and ex post sanction. Faced with unstable legal frameworks, public officials adopt more cautious and formalistic behavior, slowing decision-making and amplifying delays. In my view, the sustained deterioration observed until the mid-2010s in the control of corruption and bureaucratic quality components of the Freedom Index is driven primarily by the latter: It reflects a gradual weakening of bureaucratic effectiveness rather than a sharp increase in corrupt behavior. After 2014, the apparent change in trend seems to be largely explained by improvements in perceptions of corruption control, while underlying bureaucratic quality may not have experienced a comparable structural improvement.

Courts face a similar challenge. When legislation is complex and rapidly changing, judges are required to interpret overlapping provisions with limited guidance. This increases divergence across jurisdictions and over time, even in cases involving similar facts. Legal outcomes become less predictable, not because enforcement is weak, but because interpretation itself becomes uncertain. Firms and citizens, in turn, face a moving legal target: Compliance depends not only on what the law formally prescribes, but on how it will eventually be read and enforced. Legal uncertainty thus emerges as an endogenous consequence of legislative overproduction.

Taken together, these dynamics mark a profound change in how public authority operates in practice. The Italian state still relies on formal rules, written procedures, and legal guarantees, but the proliferation and instability of those rules increasingly undermine their coordinating role. Where a rules-based system is designed to reduce discretion and uncertainty, legal complexity has had the opposite effect. For citizens and firms, interacting with the administration often feels less like following clear rules and more like navigating a maze of overlapping requirements, exceptions, and interpretations. Outcomes depend not only on compliance, but on timing, jurisdiction, and the specific office involved. In this sense, legality itself ceases to be a source of predictability and instead becomes an additional layer of risk. The problem is not the absence of rules, but their excess: When the legal framework becomes too dense and unstable to be reliably understood, the promise of rules-based governance is hollowed out.


If Italian laws were written with a level of clarity comparable to that of Italy’s constitution, the country’s GDP today would be almost 5 percent higher.

Legal uncertainty has significant economic consequences. If Italian laws were written with a level of clarity comparable to that of Italy’s constitution, the country’s GDP today would be almost 5 percent higher. In current terms, this corresponds to roughly €110 billion per year in foregone output. This cost reflects the cumulative effect of legal ambiguity on investment, innovation, and firm growth: When rights and obligations are difficult to interpret, economic actors delay decisions, scale back projects, or avoid activities that are most subject to regulatory scrutiny. These aggregate losses do not arise uniformly across the economy, but are mediated by systematic changes in firm behavior and by who is better able to cope with legal complexity.

These costs are not borne uniformly across firms. Legal uncertainty disproportionately penalizes firms that operate transparently, invest in scale, and rely on predictable enforcement of contracts and regulations. By contrast, firms that operate at a smaller scale or in more informal ways are better able to adapt to unstable rules, absorb ambiguity, or avoid exposure altogether. In environments characterized by complex regulation and uneven interpretation, informality and opacity can become competitive advantages rather than constraints. A large body of evidence shows that regulatory complexity and legal uncertainty systematically shift activity away from more productive, formal firms toward smaller, less transparent ones, with adverse consequences for aggregate productivity. In Italy, this selection mechanism reinforces a bias toward small firm size and low growth strategies, amplifying the long-term economic costs of institutional fragility.

Another important phenomenon that cannot be captured by the freedom scores relates to political participation and trust: Citizens’ engagement with politics is a dimension that most institutional indexes only partially capture. Italy continues to meet high standards in terms of electoral competition and political rights, yet participation has declined markedly over time. Voter turnout in national parliamentary elections fell from around 90 percent in the 1970s to about 64 percent in the most recent election in 2022, one of the lowest levels in postwar Italian history. Participation in European and local elections has declined even more sharply, with turnout in European Parliament elections falling below 50 percent in recent cycles (ISTAT; International IDEA). These trends suggest that disengagement results not from the erosion of formal rights but from a weakening belief that political participation meaningfully affects outcomes in an institutional environment perceived as opaque and ineffective.

The gap between formal institutional quality and lived experience has repeatedly shaped Italy’s political trajectory over the past two decades. Since the early 2000s, Italian politics has oscillated between technocratic solutions—invoked in moments of crisis to restore credibility and stability (as under Mario Monti and later Mario Draghi)—and populist reactions that promise to bypass institutional complexity and reassert political control (seen most clearly in the rise of the Five Star Movement and the League under Matteo Salvini). Neither approach has proved fully successful. Technocratic governments have often stabilized short-term outcomes without addressing deeper institutional fragilities, while populist experiments have struggled to translate political mandates into effective and predictable governance. This pendular movement has contributed to political volatility and reinforced public frustration with both expertise and representation. As shown in a forthcoming book by Guiso et al., the 2008 financial crisis served as the watershed of populism in Europe, but in Italy, distrust in politics and government institutions is also due to the country’s political dynamics. In this context, the relative stability of the current government led by Giorgia Meloni marks a potential turning point: For the first time, a populist-led administration is joining political durability with a rhetoric—particularly on immigration and national identity—that raises concerns about the implications for political and civil rights. Whether Italy’s institutional safeguards will continue to prevent slippage along these lines is a question without an obvious answer and will be addressed more fully in the final section.

Overall, Italy’s experience shows a widening gap between formal institutional strength and institutional effectiveness. Democratic procedures and legal guarantees remain largely intact, and this is reflected in Italy’s relatively strong performance on many aggregate institutional indicators. Yet the capacity of these institutions to generate predictability, sustain investment, and foster broad-based economic opportunity has weakened. This disconnect helps explain why dissatisfaction and disengagement can coexist with formally strong institutions. It also provides the starting point for understanding Italy’s prosperity record since the mid-1990s, and why improvements in formal institutional characteristics have not translated into comparable gains in economic performance.

From freedom to prosperity

Measured along many conventional dimensions, Italy remains a prosperous country. Income per capita is high by international standards, life expectancy is among the longest in the world, and access to education, health care, and basic infrastructure is widespread. Material deprivation is limited for most of the population, and inequality, while not low, is broadly comparable to that of other large European economies. At the same time, these relatively favorable aggregates mask important compositional shifts beneath the surface, which pose a significant risk for the country’s long-term growth and social cohesion.

Although Italy remains a high-income country, its growth performance since the mid-1990s has been consistently weak. Over the past three decades, economic stagnation has become a defining feature of the Italian economy rather than a temporary deviation. Real GDP per capita has grown by less than 10 percent since the mid-1990s, compared with roughly 30 percent in France and more than 40 percent in Germany. Labor productivity growth, which averaged close to 2 percent per year during the postwar decades, has been close to zero since the late 1990s. These patterns point not to a sudden deterioration in living standards, but to a prolonged slowdown in economic dynamism that has reshaped expectations and long-term prospects.

A central feature of Italy’s stagnation is the persistent structure of its productive sector. Employment remains heavily concentrated in small firms, with businesses employing fewer than ten workers accounting for roughly half of total employment—far more than in France or Germany. While this structure once supported growth, it has become increasingly ill-suited to an economy characterized by scale economies, global value chains, and the mounting importance of intangible capital. Productivity dispersion across firms is high, yet reallocation toward more productive firms has been weak, limiting aggregate productivity growth. A substantial empirical literature documents how Italy’s skewed firm-size distribution constrains investment, innovation, and organizational upgrading, contributing to persistently low productivity.

Italy’s firm structure is closely reflected in investment behavior. Business investment as a share of GDP has trended downward since the late 1990s and remains below the euro area average, with particularly weak investment in productivity-enhancing and intangible assets such as software, organizational capital, and research and development. The institutional environment described in the previous section helps explain this pattern. Legal uncertainty and regulatory instability raise the fixed costs associated with expansion and long-horizon projects, increasing firms’ exposure to administrative procedures and judicial risk as they grow.

Italy’s weak growth performance has been accompanied by a gradual but persistent deterioration in distributional outcomes. While overall income inequality, as measured by standard Gini coefficients, remains close to the European average, the aggregate masks important shifts in how income is generated and distributed. Real wage growth has been largely stagnant since the late 1990s, particularly for large segments of the workforce, while income streams less directly exposed to economic volatility have proven more resilient.

Alongside weak growth and limited firm dynamism, Italy’s education system has struggled to function as a channel of social mobility. While average educational attainment has increased, learning environments have become increasingly segmented by family background, neighborhood, and territory. Students from lower-income households are disproportionately concentrated in schools with fewer resources, higher teacher turnover, and more challenging classroom climates. Evidence suggests that perceptions of discrimination, disengagement, and exposure to conflict are significantly more prevalent in schools serving Italy’s disadvantaged populations, and that the differences are strongly correlated with parental income and socioeconomic status. Rather than acting as a powerful equalizer, the education system increasingly mirrors existing inequalities, reinforcing differences in cognitive and non-cognitive skill formation from an early age. These patterns risk entrenching social stratification and limiting intergenerational mobility over the long run, even as aggregate indicators of educational access continue to improve.

Prolonged stagnation and repeated economic shocks disproportionately affect middle- and lower-middle-income groups whose welfare depends on stable employment and the returns to long-term investment in skills. Rather than primarily increasing demand for redistribution, this form of insecurity tends to undermine trust in mainstream political actors and institutions, fueling support for alternatives that promise protection through exclusionary policies. In this sense, social tension is less about inequality per se than about the loss of expected mobility for groups that previously experienced steady, if moderate, progress.

In Italy, formal guarantees and rights remain largely intact, yet the practical capacity to turn effort, education, and investment into progress has weakened.

Expectations play a central role in this dynamic. Economic growth depends not only on material inputs or formal rules, but on whether individuals believe that effort will be rewarded over time. As Isaiah Berlin emphasized, a meaningful distinction exists between negative freedom, understood as protection from coercion, and positive freedom, understood as the effective ability to act on one’s choices (Berlin 1969). In Italy, formal guarantees and rights remain largely intact, yet the practical capacity to turn effort, education, and investment into progress has weakened. When income prospects are uncertain and educational opportunities are uneven, formal freedoms coexist with constrained agency. This gap helps explain why improvements in institutional indicators have not translated into stronger productivity growth or renewed economic dynamism.

These constraints are felt most acutely by younger generations. Entering the labor market after two decades of weak growth, today’s young Italians face lower expected returns to education, fragmented career paths, and delayed economic independence. For many, higher educational attainment no longer guarantees stable employment or upward mobility, while access to quality learning environments and early career opportunities remain strongly shaped by family background and territory. As a result, uncertainty is experienced not as a temporary phase but as a persistent condition, influencing decisions about work, mobility, and family formation.

This erosion of confidence in institutions also shapes outcomes in areas where prosperity depends on collective action over long horizons, most notably environmental policy. Italy has made measurable progress in reducing emissions and expanding renewable energy, yet its performance has lagged behind that of several peer countries. Resistance to environmental transformation often reflects concerns about local costs, distributional effects, and the credibility of promised compensation rather than outright opposition to climate goals. In an environment where trust in institutions is fragile, commitments to future benefits carry limited weight. Policies that require short-term adjustment in exchange for long-term gains become harder to sustain, even when they are economically sound and socially desirable. Environmental outcomes therefore reflect not only policy design, but the broader institutional capacity to generate belief in credible, shared returns over time.

Taken together, these patterns point to a central tension in Italy’s recent trajectory. Formal institutions have remained broadly stable, and material living standards remain high, yet the capacity of those institutions to sustain investment, mobility, and credible long-term expectations has weakened. Economic outcomes reflect not a single failure, but the cumulative effects of legal uncertainty, constrained firm growth, segmented education, and eroded confidence in future returns. Prosperity has become more uneven, more fragile, and more dependent on background and position than headline indicators suggest. Whether the equilibrium that has characterized Italy over the past two decades is sustainable in the medium term is the core question addressed in the next section.

The path forward

Italy’s medium-term prospects are shaped by a small number of risks that revolve around institutional credibility, economic sustainability, and demographic pressure, and that together will determine whether the current equilibrium can endure.

The most immediate concern is politico-legal. A proposed constitutional reform of the judicial system, scheduled for a general referendum vote on March 22nd, could result in a significant shift in the balance of powers. Public debate has focused on a narrow and largely symbolic issue—the possibility for prosecutors to become judges—which in practice affects a very small share of magistrates. The more consequential element of the reform is the creation of a new body, appointed in part by the political majority, with the authority to oversee and evaluate the actions of the judiciary. This introduces a clear risk to judicial independence. Even in the absence of direct interference, the mere possibility of executive oversight may discourage the pursuit of sensitive cases involving politically connected actors or the government itself. The institutional risk is amplified by the political process through which the reform is advancing. Because it failed to obtain a two-thirds majority in parliament, the reform will be decided by referendum. In a context of low political participation and widespread disengagement, there is a non-negligible possibility that a far-reaching constitutional change could be approved by a relatively small share of the electorate. Such an outcome would further weaken the perceived legitimacy (or lack thereof) of institutional checks and balances.

Italy risks moving from a situation in which dissatisfaction coexists with formally strong protections to one in which the erosion of rights is tangible.

A second risk concerns civil and political rights. Italy has long exhibited a gap between strong formal guarantees and uneven lived experience. Recent developments suggest that this gap may narrow—in an unfavorable direction. Since 2022, a stronger emphasis on security and anti-immigration rhetoric has yielded policy initiatives and administrative practices that have already begun to affect indicators of political and civil rights. While the changes observed so far remain limited, the concern is one of persistence rather than rupture. If these trends continue, Italy risks moving from a situation in which dissatisfaction coexists with formally strong protections to one in which the erosion of rights is tangible. This would represent a qualitative shift relative to the past three decades.

The third challenge is economic and structural. Italy’s traditional development model, centered on small, family-owned firms operating in established sectors, has become increasingly inadequate in an economy driven by innovation, scale, and intangible capital. A transition toward more dynamic and technologically intensive activities is necessary. Yet the incentive structure produced by the current institutional environment remains unfavorable. Legal uncertainty, administrative complexity, and limited predictability discourage the long-term investments required to develop new sectors and expand firm size. Without changes to these underlying conditions, the prospects for a meaningful shift in the growth model remain weak, despite the urgency of the challenge.

Demographic and fiscal pressures reinforce these concerns. Stagnant incomes, persistently low fertility, and high levels of public and private debt interact in ways that constrain policy choices. Italy’s population is aging rapidly, and the working-age population is shrinking—placing an increasing strain on the pension system and welfare programs. At the same time, high public debt limits fiscal space, reducing the government’s ability to respond to shocks or to support growth through expansionary policies. In the absence of stronger growth, the sustainability of existing social arrangements will become increasingly difficult to maintain.

Temporary fiscal expansions can relax political and financial constraints in the short run while delaying necessary adjustments and amplifying vulnerabilities when support is withdrawn.

Finally, there is the risk associated with the conclusion of the Next Generation EU program. In recent years, these funds have supported public investment and contributed to stabilizing economic activity. There is a concern, however, that they may also have masked underlying weaknesses. Whether these resources have been systematically directed toward projects capable of raising long-term productivity remains unclear. Moreover, they will have to be repaid. When combined with already high debt levels, this raises the possibility that the apparent stabilization of recent years could give way to renewed strain once extraordinary support fades. Temporary fiscal expansions can relax political and financial constraints in the short run while delaying necessary adjustments and amplifying vulnerabilities when support is withdrawn. If growth does not materialize, the adjustment required could be abrupt.

Taken together, these risks point to a fragile equilibrium. Italy has so far avoided abrupt institutional breakdowns and severe economic crises, relying instead on gradual adjustment and external anchors. Whether this equilibrium can be sustained in the medium term will depend on the ability of institutions to preserve independence, restore credibility, and support a development path capable of generating durable growth under tighter economic and demographic constraints.

about the author

Massimo Morelli is professor of political science and economics at Bocconi University and senior research scientist at the Luxembourg Institute of Socio-Economic Research (LISER). A political economist, he earned his PhD in economics from Harvard University in 1996. He spent twenty-two years teaching and conducting research at leading American institutions, including the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton and Columbia University, where he held a full professorship in economics and political science. Since returning to Italy in 2014, he has continued his work at the intersection of economics and political science, publishing in leading journals across both fields.

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Mythical Beasts: Investigating the role of intermediaries in the proliferation of offensive cyber capabilities https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/mythical-beasts-investigating-the-role-of-intermediaries-spyware/ Wed, 18 Mar 2026 04:01:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=910609 The opacity of intermediaries in the OCC marketplace represents a discernible gap in current policy frameworks. Brokers and resellers are essential enablers and connectors of the OCC supply chain.

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Table of Contents

Executive summary

The marketplace for offensive cyber capabilities (OCCs) has become increasingly complex over time. Contributing to this complexity are intermediaries—entities that serve a critical yet poorly understood role in the proliferation of this industry. Largely due to the private nature of intermediary relationships and transactions, there is limited public knowledge about these intermediary entities that bridge relationships and transfer goods within the OCC supply chain.

As governments and international processes seek to establish norms and regulations for this highly fragmented OCC industry through initiatives including the ongoing multistakeholder Pall Mall Process, the lack of shared public knowledge is a significant hurdle. The opacity of this market subsection poses policy challenges and complicates efforts to regulate these entities. This undermines transparency, accountability, compliance, and due diligence, and threatens to enable the unchecked proliferation of these capabilities to end users who abuse them.

This research draws on expert roundtable interviews and vignettes that shine light on intermediary functions and their effects on the wider market—features of the supply chain that still confound researchers and policymakers alike. Building on research in the Mythical Beasts project series, this issue brief maps intermediary roles and effects, with an aim to enable more precise, effective policies to curb abusive proliferation while maintaining the legitimate security research and defensive capabilities that these entities can offer.

Introduction

As technological and regulatory evolutions in offensive cyber capabilities (OCCs) continue, the landscape of tools, vulnerabilities, and skills leveraged for sophisticated and targeted operations continues to adapt. However, many states turn to the open market to procure these often highly specialized products and services, due in part to limited in-house capacity among other factors. In recent years, the marketplace for these OCC products and services has continued to evolve and proliferate—as evidenced in the Atlantic Council study on the global spyware market, Mythical Beasts and Where to Find Them: Mapping the Global Spyware Market and its Threats to National Security and Human Rights. This research and other global mapping initiatives shed light on the complex supply chains of OCCs, a complexity and opacity that pose challenges tomeaningful marketplace transparency and accountability.

A key feature of the marketplace—intermediaries, which are entities that provide essential products or services that support a final OCC product—continues to be largely fragmented, with minimal shared public knowledge on the characteristics, influences, and norms on of the entities operating within the OCC supply chain. As surveyed in the Mythical Beasts project, open-source information about what roles intermediaries play in proliferation and the effects they have on marketplace dynamics is limited, despite academic research and public reporting indicating that there is a heavy reliance on commercialintermediaries.

Intermediaries are fundamentally different than other entities that operate within the marketplace for OCC. Intermediaries are largely found as partners within the OCC supply chain, complimenting product development through vulnerability research to complete exploit chains or as auxiliary support during technology deployment. Unlike OCC vendors, intermediaries are typically not the public face of products; rather, they are better known within private client bases. Intermediaries can be a one-person shop, relying on personal relationships to establish a client network. They can drive up business by facilitating new relationships to previously inaccessible or new customer bases and to increase profits for both themselves and on behalf of vendors that employ them. Altogether, these factors make it more difficult to track and understand the types of relationships and effects that intermediaries have on the OCC market, as limited public information exists about them outside of hacked and leaked documents, investigative reporting, and sporadic transparency initiatives.

As an important aside, the concept of an intermediary can be applied not only to private sector entities but also to states. Third-country intermediaries typically operate in permissive trade environments that act as favorable “stepping stone” jurisdictions; for example, they may offer legal or logistical support that facilitates the movement of spyware and exploits across regulatory boundaries. These jurisdictions themselves operate as an intermediary state hub that is hosting intermediary companies locally domiciled to provide services such as the transfer or export of goods onward to a third country. Although the permissive or restrictive nature of states is a feature of the OCC supply chain, the design of policy interventions for state exports differs from those applied to intermediary entities and, thus, is beyond the scope of this issue brief.

These questions surrounding the characteristics and effects of intermediaries persist not only as they pertain to spyware, but also in how they interact with other components of the OCC supply chain— from the foundation from which they are built, such as vulnerability and exploit research, to the services like training or educational materials they might provide. With the Mythical Beasts project as a jumping-off point, this piece explores intermediary relationships, products, and their effects on submarkets within the larger OCC supply chain for high-end cyber intrusion products. These products, often referred to as spyware, range fromsoftware and tools that enable remote access to a computer system without the consent of the user, administrator, or owner of the computer system. With system access, intermediaries are able to collect, exploit, extract, intercept, retrieve, alter, delete, or transmit content.

The limited and siloed knowledge regarding intermediaries creates a significant policy hurdle—these entities contribute to the opaque proliferation of the OCC industry. But how can policymakers enact effective regulation and standards to curb the abusive effects of vendors when they do not understand the perimeters within which these entities operate? This issue brief explores the characterization of intermediaries, the difference between different intermediary types (i.e., broker, reseller), how different intermediaries carry varying effects on the market (i.e., price increases, supply chain muddling) and concludes with policy recommendations to mitigate the effects of these issues, specifically for the ongoing Pall Mall Process.

Methods

To investigate intermediaries in the OCC marketplace and product supply chain, this brief combines expert interviews with desk review to present a rich description of the characteristics, influences, and norms of intermediaries. The interviews were conducted in fall 2025 in a roundtable format with subject matter experts on the cyber capabilities ecosystem from across the national security and private sectors as well as in one-on-one conversations. Individual interviews were conducted with sources from private sector firms who have interfaced with or researched intermediaries or can be identified as intermediaries themselves (e.g.,exploit brokers). For privacy considerations, interviewees remain anonymous but represent the following profiles:

  • leaders and senior employees of offensive hacking or vulnerability research companies in the United States or Europe,
  • security researchers with expertise in offensive hacking and regional specialties both within and outside the United States, and
  • individuals acting as intermediaries that have facilitated relationships and access from individuals or companies to buyer countries based in Five Eyes countries and Europe.

Individual interviews will be cited based on the roundtable that interviewees participated in (e.g., Roundtable #1) to avoid attribution. Due to the lack of public information on intermediaries, interviews are a significant source of descriptive data for this brief. Prior to the roundtables, the authors reviewed academic, policy, and recent media reporting to identify the terms used to refer to entities intermediate to the OCC supply chain. Below, the authors map these terms and seek to clarify the terminology.

Characterizing the complicated: Defining intermediaries

Cyber intrusion products like spyware are characterized by their sophisticated infection chains, meaning they can combine vulnerabilities and exploits to achieve greater levels of compromise. They are also often valued for their stealth on a target device. A maturing marketplace has emerged to enable the development, sale, and deployment of these products, with intermediaries playing a crucial role in ensuring robust and effective exploit chains and in deploying products with varying degrees of anonymity. Notably, as France’s national cybersecurity agency (ANNSI) explains, an intrusion product typically exploits several vulnerabilities as an exploit chain to bypass each application layer and deploy the desired surveillance as close as possible to the system’s core. Given this interrelated set of permissions or access points at both a technical and organizational level, there are numerous opportunities for intermediaries to supply products or services.

Across industry materials, policy documents, and technical reporting, a range of terms are used to describe intermediary entities that operate at various junctures in the OCC supply chain. Intermediaries are entities that provide essential products or services that support a final OCC product. For example, they can facilitate access to or transfer of goods (e.g., vulnerabilities) or services (e.g., access-as-a-service) between two or more parties. In different literatures, intermediaries encompass a variety of relationships, including brokers, resellers, contractors, partners, middlemen, infrastructure providers, and even countries as third-party intermediaries. Some of these terms share overlapping responsibilities, while others are distinct. Here, these terms will be addressed and categorized.

Brokers, sometimes referred to as vulnerability brokers, broker firms, or middlemen, will purchase vulnerabilities or exploit components from researchers and sell them to governments or other clients. Brokers establish their clientele based on relationships with sellers and buyers, and for each transaction, there can be an individual or a chain of brokers that sell said good or service onward to a buyer.1 Thus, brokers can serve as direct links between the seller and a buyer or can sell to another broker in the chain who then sells to an end client or another broker. Oftentimes, brokers sell a single component of an OCC, rather than a bundled product (i.e., selling an exploit versus selling an OCC product containing an exploit bundled with malware). For instance, Operation Zero, a Russian vulnerability brokerage firm, specializes in acquiring and selling zero-day exploits.

Resellers, on the other hand, typically procure and then repackage or rebrand cyber intrusion products to new customers. Crucially, a reseller obtains the rights to a software product and may even modify the product before selling it onward to a new buyer. In practice, repackaging or rebranding means bundling spyware or exploit capabilities with services including technical support, training, and adapting products to local contexts, thus making exploits easier for clients to deploy.2Oftentimes, and distinguishable from brokers, resellers bundle products together, reselling a package of products rather than a single component of OCC. Resellers may also lease supporting infrastructure to multiple vendors, such as virtual private networks (VPNs) or domain hosting. Frequently, resellers operate within jurisdictions that have favorable or limited regulations, thereby enabling sales across borders.3 An example of a reseller is RCS Lab, which sold Hermit spyware (Hacking Team/Memento Labs spyware) on behalf of Hacking Team.4

Notably, brokers and resellers can operate both “in-house” or as “contractors” for the entity they broker or resell the products for. In-house intermediaries are entities that are owned by an OCC vendor, or other entity in the supply chain. For example, a spyware vendor can own a reseller whose purpose is to resell its spyware to specific countries. Alternatively, vendors can contract a broker or reseller to procure a specific capability, product, or service, or facilitate the sale of a specific capability, product, or service. Below, the authors do not distinguish between in-house and contracted brokers or resellers as it cannot be determined whether they have varying degrees of effect on driving or narrowing proliferation in distinct ways.

Other terms in the literature combine brokers and resellers into one category. For example, in the defense and intelligence communities, “contractors” serves as a stand-in term for resellers and brokers, used also with “prime contractors” for large system integrators and “sub-contractors” for boutique firms or individual researchers.

Partner is another term that combines the functions of brokers and resellers with the specific context of the offensive cyber capability of spyware. “Partner” is a term observed in industry materials and used in theAtlantic Council’s Mythical Beasts research to encompass a broad range of actors—business and operational partners, technical or analytical tool providers, and, in some cases, entities that also function as brokers or resellers.

On the other hand, other terms carve out brokers and resellers and focus on other functions of intermediaries. For example, infrastructure providers are characterized as entities leasing domains, hosting, or operating infrastructure to multiple vendors, providing a commoditized, reusable operational layer for multiple exploits. Access providers are described as firms or individuals that integrate exploits into tools and sell “access-as-a-service” to clients.

The term of intermediary also takes on various meanings and implications across mentions, or lack thereof, in policy. For example, the 2025 Pall Mall Code of Conduct uses “intermediary” explicitly, grouping “resellers, distributors, brokers, and system integrators” of commercial cyber intrusion capabilities together under a single umbrella. In contrast, the Code distinguishes another category for the role of access providers. While this represents a step toward articulating the diversity of actors in the OCC marketplace, there is little attention devoted to the functions and effects of these intermediaries. Rather, this report highlights the instances in which distinguishing between terms is beneficial to policymakers in ongoing industry code-of-practice to effectively include entities that fit more granularly within the market, bolstering potential implementation of outcomes from the code-of-practice.

On the other hand, some policy documents do not directly mention the role that intermediaries play in the OCC marketplace. For example, the 2023 US State Department’s Guiding Principles focuses on government procurement, transparency, and human rights obligations of states and vendors that deploy surveillance technology. In this instance, “vendors” and “surveillance technologies” are treated as broad, catch-all categories, but the guiding principles do not specifically include brokers, resellers, infrastructure providers and the other obscure players in this ecosystem—even though these actors are drivers of price distortion, supply-chain opacity, and risk.

Finally, within the technical and threat-intelligence community, intermediary terminology is more closely tied to specific entities in case studies: Singaporean brokers for Indonesian spyware procurement, third-country intermediaries in Hungary, and exploit brokers or suppliers like COSEINC in Singapore or firms operating in China. Reports from these groups reference the functions that “middlemen,” “brokers,” “regional partners,” and “local distributors” take such as repackaging, resale, and routing logistics, but often without drawing specific lines between the terms and which specificactions they take. In the industry and vendor ecosystem itself, marketing language includes “partners,” and “value-added resellers,” which flattens important distinctions.

There is overlap across this landscape, specific intermediaries connect entities within the OCC supply chain to support product development. Where they diverge is when and how clearly roles are named, differentiated, and assigned responsibly. Policy frameworks tend to underspecify intermediaries altogether; technical reporting documents their behavior without standardizing definitions; and industry terminology combines multiple roles under ambiguous labels. Without clarification and specificity, it is difficult to surface accountability or design effective policy to encourage market regulation. Without clear differentiation, policymakers risk applying underdeveloped, misdirected policies that may have minimal or counterintuitive effects on marketplace transparency. Therefore, disentangling the functions of these entities is a necessary step toward understanding the landscape and designing policies that address how this market functions in practice. For example, policy solutions to curb an individual operating as a broker versus a companyoperating as a reseller might take different approaches, with governments having their own priorities. Thus, for this piece, the authors rely on specific terms to clarify the function that each entity type(s) serves in the market and will use the term most closely aligned with an intermediary type versus a more general term such as “middlemen” or “contractor” to inform policymakers seeking to address specific characteristics of these entities.

Taking a step back from the cybersecurity marketplaces, intermediaries are observable across complex and sometimes illicit supply chains, with parallel effects on connectivity and opacity. They are key components of global supply chains ranging from diamond trade and critical minerals to commercial data brokers and the wider defense sector. Across these supply chains, intermediaries play an important role in aggregating, transforming, or legitimizing goods as they move across regulatory lines. Brokers may resemble commodity traders who arbitrage information and relationships, and there are parallels to commercial data brokers who package digital assets sources indirectly through oftentimes untraceable or illegitimate means. These commonalities highlight how the OCC marketplace similarly is characterized by multilayered supply chains and shaped by asymmetrical information and specialized labor.

These comparisons surface considerations of how, if at all, the OCC marketplace can achieve rigorous and legitimate responsible purchasing protocols for cyber capabilities. While these sectors, including entities supporting OCC development, are shaped by state and industry-imposed due-diligence norms and obligations including Know Your Customer requirements, beneficial-ownership disclosures, and chain-of-custody documentation, an overall lack of vendor and intermediary reporting and transparency persists. Given this, the following section aims to fill in some of these knowledge gaps regarding the operation of and the effects posed by intermediaries in the OCC supply chain.

The driving and narrowing effects of brokers and resellers on the OCC marketplace

This section draws on the insights from roundtables to characterize the effects brokers and resellers appear to have on the OCC marketplace. A limited body of public research has investigated the economy of vulnerability trades and exploitations, analyzed the business practices of known exploit vendors, and articulated the relationship between exploits and the spyware marketplace. In each of these cases, analyses rely on public knowledge and rare leaked documents to draw insights about the ecosystem. To compliment this and to expand the landscape of shared public knowledge, this analysis follows the methodology of recent policy research by turning to experts in a roundtable format to drive conversation and insights into underattended areas of the marketplace.

Here, effects are grouped in two major categories—features that drive proliferation of the OCC marketplace and features that narrow or limit the scope of the OCC marketplace. While these effects pose different consequences for different actors ranging from those seeking wider access to the marketplace to those seeking a far more contained and heavily regulated ecosystem, the authors frame these effects principally in terms of how brokers and resellers shape the marketplace itself. Thus, on the one hand, this analysis demonstrates that entities drive proliferation through the development, sale, and deployment of products. On the other hand, this piece observes the narrowing effects to widespread proliferation principally by driving costs, limiting the diversity of product types, and presenting roadblocks to necessary transparency and due diligence.

As detailed in the subsequent subsections, the presence of intermediaries can be characterized as both enabling proliferation and contributing to the homogeneity of the marketplace. While intermediaries fuel the proliferation of OCC, layering additional opacity into already murky supply chains, they also offer policymakers essential leverage points. Their market position, and critical functions they provide in supporting OCC deployment and transactions, make them uniquely effective targets for the needed transparency and enhanced due diligence requirements to curb the rampant proliferation of tools.

Driving market mechanics

Emerging from expert interviews and case study compilation are three critical roles that intermediaries play in connecting entities in OCC supply chains and driving market proliferation. First, brokers and resellers facilitate sales across jurisdictions, increasing overall access to these capabilities oftentimes to new vendors or markets that otherwise could not directly procure these capabilities directly from a vendor. Second, they enable product development by providing skills, services, or pieces of an end-product that could not be easily developed in-house by a vendor. Finally, brokers and resellers can aid with operation deployment, to assistwith the hands-on tasks of using an offensive cyber capability. Notably, the authors highlight that these features are not the only enabling effects intermediaries have on OCC marketplace proliferation, but rather, there are three major trends highlighted throughout interviews and case study analysis.

Facilitating sales across jurisdictions

Reports from civil society suggest that brokering and reselling intermediaries have played key roles in numerous high-profile transactions. Specifically, intermediaries have facilitated transactions that otherwise could not have taken place given regional export controls or trade bans.

For example, in 2017, spyware vendor Quadream Inc. established its own reseller, InReach Technologies Limited. Sourcing revealed InReach Technologies Limited was “solely founded for the promotion of Quadream products, like Reign, outside of Israel” to bypass the EU’s dual-use export.

Later, in 2018, Bangladesh acquired Israeli-made surveillance technologies through Hungarian and Thailand-based resellers to circumvent the Bangladeshi trade ban that prohibits direct trade with Israel. Without intermediaries, it is unlikely this acquisition would have occurred. Again, in 2021, Bangladesh acquired surveillance technology by relying on intermediaries. The state procured surveillance technology from the Intellexa Consortium’s reseller Passitora Ltd (formerly WS WiSpear Systems Limited). The Intellexa Consortium is known for its Predator spyware. Passitora Ltd had sold its product to broker Toru Group Limited, a Swiss company operating out of the British Virgin Islands. This case highlights an example of an intermediary chain, working jointly in service of an end-use OCC vendor, which, through these multiple sales introduces additional opacity into the supply chain for these goods and services.

Intermediaries also expand the total geographic market for spyware vendors by connecting regional markets, which might otherwise be constrained by export regulations or limited regional capacity. For example, the South African company VASTech, connected spyware vendor Hacking Team (now named Memento Labs) to sell the vendor’s spyware to “local customers.” Other times, as noted by roundtable participants, third-country intermediaries facilitate sales where vendors cannot or do not want to appear directly, oftentimes to avoid unwanted public attention and potential reputational harm.5 As noted in Mythical Beasts Diving into the Depths of the Global Spyware Market, ten intermediaries (resellers) facilitated NSO Group’s Pegasus sales to government buyers. Unlike the case with VASTech, Mexican intermediaries created misleading and vague contracts that concealed both the products and the original vendor, illustrating how intermediaries can be used as a tool to avoid transparency in the marketplace for OCC.

Overall, both brokers and resellers widen the reach of cyber-intrusion vendors into jurisdictions that would be otherwise inaccessible due to reputational, political, export-control, or trade barriers widening and driving the sales of these capabilities.

Enabling product development

Throughout the expert roundtables and individual consultations, a recurring observation was that exploit brokers and resellers fill a commercial gap in the development and, ultimately, the proliferation of OCC products. Notably, experts reiterated that OCC products rarely rely on a single exploit, rather they require an interdependent chain of exploits and sometimes additional infrastructure.6 Intermediaries meet this need by bridging the gap between security researchers and vendors seeking their exploits. In doing so, they can increase the rate of OCC development by reducing the time needed to identify and negotiate between researchers and buyers. As noted in the roundtables, successful vulnerability brokers maintain regular relationships with government entities and private contacts, thereby establishing some trust in an ecosystem reliant on reputation and word of mouth, meaning that they can more efficiently match customer demands with the current supply of vulnerabilities.7

In addition to matching supply with demand, exploit brokers can bundle components of the supply chain so that vendors do not need to establish individual relationships and transactions themselves. Evidence from recent reporting suggests that brokers and resellers are meeting these product development needs not only through the sale of exploits but also by providing infrastructure setup support or by arranging transactions through platforms with limited traceability to circumvent oversight. Taken together, these entities meet a marketplace need by connecting skills, services, and products to OCC vendors who may, for a variety of reasons discussed above, seek these external services.

Supporting operational deployment

Brokers and resellers often meet vendor needs by facilitating the transaction of infrastructure, where they provide platforms or services to assist with operational deployment of a capability. This allows OCC vendors to scale operations across multiple regions without having to rely on local infrastructure built in-house from scratch.8 Recorded Future’s analysis of Predator spyware reveals the diverse operational deployment roles that resellers fulfill, from establishing operational training centers to operating front companies to ship products to providing data analysis systems.

This case is especially significant, as the Intellexa Consortium—the business cluster behind Predator spyware—is renowned for incorporating intermediaries “in house.” Meaning, the vendor itself owns various resellers, brokers, and infrastructure providers versus contracting them externally, suggesting that even sizeable spyware vendors that “own” various intermediaries also require external contracted intermediary support for operational deployment for certain targets.

Limiting market proliferation

While the previous three broker and reseller effects demonstrate how these entities can meet the needs of the OCC marketplace and advance the market’s proliferation, experts and case studies similarly highlighted how, on the other hand, intermediaries can contribute to increased homogeneity off the marketplace in several ways. Specifically, this includes driving up cost, limiting the diversity of product types, and impeding due diligence and transparency efforts.

Escalating costs

Brokers and resellers, across the marketplace, anecdotally appear to drive up the final cost of OCCs. Multiple roundtable members with industry experience at many junctures of these supply chains described how each broker in a chain adds its own markup, layering on a 10-15 percent markup to the exploit for each onward sale.9Popular and open-access exploit marketplaces, like Zerodium, will list the prices of vulnerabilities, but what remains unclear is the extent to which these public prices reflect the intermediary markup.

Evidence suggests that the costs of exploits range drastically, with some of the most sought-after exploits, like zero-click or mobile-messaging exploits being notably more expensive. Similar cost escalation occurs at other junctures in the OCC marketplace. For example, MATIC—a reseller of NSO Group‘s Pegasus spyware—sold Pegasus to the Polish Central Anticorruption Bureau with a nearly $1.5 million markup.

These markups exist at virtually every step of building and selling OCCs, which push higher-end capabilities out of reach for smaller states and agencies, effectively restricting market access to those with the most purchasing power. As reiterated throughout this section, brokers and resellers appear to fill an open commercial gap and charge a fee for their services. Consequently, the lack of transparency on pricing and inflation contributes to overall marketplace ambiguity for the industry as a whole by increasing opacity on costs associated with developing, selling, and procuring OCCs.

Limiting the diversity of products

Roundtable participants noted that a consequence of both the current intermediary ecosystem and in-house vulnerability research is an overall narrowing of what is considered a top-priority commodity. With buyers’ focus on the most popular target vectors (such as iOS and Android devices) and on final products that prioritize speed, timing, precision, and anonymity, downstream intermediaries respond by focusing their discovery and procurement on these few, high-value exploits.10

These experts narrowed in on this unintended market effect, in which buyers seek out and buy certain vulnerabilities (i.e., remote bypass for popular operating systems), which contributes to knock-on effects for the wider intermediary marketplace. Roundtable participants explained that as resellers and brokers prioritize acquiring these few high-value exploits, there is limited buyer interest and purchasing power for smaller bugs that can be used in complimentary or alternative ways to reach similar end goals.11. In essence, while it is not possible to have full view into the demand-and supply-side activities, “all eyes are trained on the same targets.”12One participant noted an exception to this marketplace norm, highlighting a positive externality in the public-private ecosystem in Israel that has created an incentive system in which researchers and intermediaries have access to funding and investments necessary to create and prove product viability for OCCs that exploit less or obvious sources.13

What was observed, in general, is that most of the attention and purchasing power is directed at a relatively narrow slice of the vulnerability marketplace to build out the exploit chains of OCC products. Experts speculated on the consequences of this intermediary and product homogenization. For instance, they highlighted that from an engineering perspective, products appear to be “less creative.” Others noted that this zeroing in on the same few exploits incentivizes brokers and resellers to engage in disreputable and insecure business practices such as selling the same exploit to different vendors, threatening security breaches or bottlenecks when exploits are discovered and patched.

Impending transparency and due diligence

Overall, the introduction of more actors in the form of intermediaries to the OCC ecosystem poses additional considerations to the tracking and reporting necessary for transparency initiatives. Given the relationship-based nature of brokering and reselling, where deals and transactions oftentimes rest on preexisting, trusted contacts or references, the ability to surface and track these transactions within a digital “supply chain” is limited.14 This has implications for the growing advocacy and policy guidelines for which “responsible purchasing” has been offered as a potential remedy to market proliferation.

The analyses above highlight how brokers and resellers can drive-down transparency efforts in the marketplace for OCC by muddying supply chains and creating confusion for end-buyers as to the source of a product or product component, which in turn complicates due-diligence efforts and “responsible purchasing.” Even vendors of OCCs have indicated how intermediaries complicate their own alleged due-diligence efforts. For example, the CEO of spyware vendor Memento Labs, recently asserted that one of its clients misused outdated variants of their malware. This demonstrates that OCC vendors can lose control of variant propagation once intermediaries and resellers are involved. Members of the industry echoed this sentiment, describing the “ceiling of capabilities” problem—as resold or outdated capabilities continue to circulate in the market, sometimes through third-country intermediaries, the likelihood of detection increases and the effectiveness of the exploit is reduced.15 On the other hand, current market opacity enables unchecked vendor transparency reports, including the recent 2025 NSO transparency report, which lacks any concrete details on annual disclosures, supply chains, customers, and more.

Further complicating transparency and due diligence efforts are incentive structures in the marketplace for OCC. Emerging security researchers and brokers are often incentivized by the appealingly sizable and rapid profit potential, shifting the focus to speed and margin overdue-diligence obligations. Discovering and selling vulnerabilities is not geographically restricted to certain markets and thus the profit margins can be “transformative” for some researchers and intermediaries, particularly in the global majority.16

An ultimately observable theme in the OCC supply chain, like many other illicit flows, is that entities are largely incentivized by factors including profit and reputational protection, which oftentimes are measured by high levels of discretion and privacy. As a consequence, supply chain transparency and publicly accessible and meaningful due diligence contrasts with these appealing payouts and an inherent culture of opacity.

Policy recommendations

The policy recommendations below aim to address the aforementioned effects that brokers, resellers, and other intermediary types pose. Based on analysis from interviews and background research, this report sets out four recommendations aimed at confronting the consistent issue set across the Mythical Beasts project—increasing and incentivizing transparency at multiple levels of the OCC supply chain.

These specific recommendations are oriented toward governance regimes in the United States, the United Kingdom, and the multilateral Pall Mall Process to develop Know Your Intermediary requirements, improve corporate registries to capture more details about intermediary relationships, and create certification programs.

I. Implement Know Your Vendor requirements

To facilitate more effective due diligence of cyber capability transactions, governments should gain a better understanding of brokers and resellers enabling these transactions. Know Your Vendor requirements would mandate that OCC brokers and resellers disclose their supplier relationships, vendor partnerships, investors, subcontractors, and parent entities to develop a consistent reporting environment where governmentlicensing officers can assess whether prospective intermediaries have ties to sanctioned or restricted entities before signing contracts.

Within the United States, the Federal Acquisition Regulatory Council should update the Federal Acquisition Regulation, Defense Federal Acquisition Regulation Supplement, and Defense Logistics Acquisition Directive to require any broker or reseller bidding on government cyber operations contracts to disclose vendor relationships, supplier networks, investors, subcontractors, and holding entities. While the Defense Logistics Acquisition Directive requires the disclosure of “the name and location of all supply chain intermediaries,” it does not require information about access providers, parent companies and holding companies, investors, and others.

Within the United Kingdom, the Cabinet Office should update procurement regulations to require intermediaries providing spyware-related services to disclose complete supply chains.

II. Improve corporate-run registries for brokers and resellers

Government-run corporate registries are essential resources for due diligence and accountability in tracking OCC behavior. As indicated in the Mythical Beasts project series, there is work to be done to ensure these registries are comprehensive, publicly accessible, and contain verified information to bolster transparency and accountability efforts.

National regulations should determine comprehensive requirements for brokering and reselling related entities in corporate registries. At minimum, registries should include:

  • Basic company information: Name, registration number, tax ID, address, contact details, and date of registration
  • Ownership details: Senior executives, management board, beneficial owners, and investors
  • Operational details: Number of employees, geographic scope of operations, and jurisdictions where licensed to operate
  • Corporate history: Name changes, mergers and acquisitions, and predecessor entities

This information serves as a baseline but could be expanded to include relationships with known spyware manufacturers, telecommunications partners, and access providers.

Within the United States, there is no centralized “nationwide” corporate registry, as each state maintains their own. The National Association of Secretaries of States can build out guidance on what individual states can do to bolster disclosure requirements of dual-use technology companies on their respective registries, which will more holistically capture information about brokers and resellers.

By contrast, the United Kingdom has a more robust corporate registry system. Nevertheless, to improve this system to capture additional information about OCC intermediaries, the United Kingdom should encourage Parliament to amend the Companies Act 2006 to include additional information about entities connected via supply chains in the national registration. When it comes to international fora, the United Kingdom,through the Pall Mall Process, should establish a Working Group with Code of Practice signatories on how states can improve corporate registries to better capture information pertinent to intermediary and OCC marketplace behavior. The UK government should also consult civil society organizations to provide expertise through this process.

III. Certified brokers and resellers program

As leaders of the Pall Mall Process, the United Kingdom and France should establish internal certification programs recognizing brokers and resellers that demonstrate exceptional compliance practices and encourage other signatories to the Pall Mall Process Code of Practice for States to do the same. Utilizing the Pall Mall Code of Practice for industry as a jumping off point to establish a certification, certified brokers and resellers are eligible to receive streamlined licensing processes for low-risk transactions and have a greater likelihood of winning government contracts, encouraging other brokers and resellers in the ecosystem to pursue this certification. This recommendation is a voluntary certification program, where interested brokers and resellers can apply to be certified for the benefits overviewed above, as not every broker and reseller seeks to work directly with government clients.

Certification criteria must include a government-led due diligence effort to ensure a demonstrated history of accurate disclosure, implementation of human rights impact assessments, participation in industry best practice fora, cooperation with government due diligence investigations, and consultation with civil society actors. More detail on assessment of these criteria is below.

Within the United States, Bureau of Industry and Security (BIS) should administer the certification program, serving as the entity that issues, maintains, and revokes certifications. Shoring up technical expertise willenable BIS to leverage its existing expertise as the entity that oversees export controls of dual-use goods that pose potential risks to national security and can evaluate compliance through access to export violation records and licensing records. BIS can also enforce compliance, as it already oversees the “Export Controls List” on which some OCC vendors are listed.

The US Department of State should coordinate and share human rights impact assessments for certification applicants, providing country and regional human rights risk assessments, and compliance with international law. This can be informed through expert consultation by civil society organizations to review and bolster the rigor of the assessment’s methodology and focus. Finally, the Office of Foreign Assets Control at the US Department of the Treasury should provide sanction screening and verification services for the certification program.

In the United Kingdom, the Export Control Joint Unit (ECJU) within the Department for Business and Trade should administer the certification program, serving as the entity that issues, maintains, and revokes certifications. The ECJU, similar to BIS, can leverage its existing expertise in UK export control regulations and licensing requirements to implement and oversee this program.

The Foreign Commonwealth Development Office, similar to the US Department of State, should coordinate and share human rights impact assessments for certification applicants, providing country and regional human rights risk assessments, compliance with international law, and adherence to UK human rights commitments and the Consolidated EU and National Arms Export Licensing Criteria. Finally, the Office of Financial Sanctions Implementation of His Majesty’s Treasury can administer UK sanctions screenings and compliance verifications for the certification program.

Information sharing, coordination, and harmonization between various intermediary certification programs in the United States and the United Kingdom can be coordinated during the Pall Mall Process or other appropriate international fora.

Conclusion

The opacity of intermediaries in the OCC marketplace represents a discernible gap in current policy frameworks. This research demonstrates how intermediaries—be it brokers, resellers, or other entities—are essential enablers and connectors of the OCC supply chain. They drive proliferation by expanding market access across jurisdictions, supporting product development, and facilitating operational deployment while introducing market complications through cost escalation, product homogenization, and supply chain obfuscation.

The policy recommendations highlighted in this piece reinforce a core point—transparency. They seek to bolster publicly accountably transparency without pushing legitimate vulnerability research underground. These recommendations recognize and reflect on treating intermediary roles in OCC marketplace not as a collective unit, but rather as distinct categories with a range of policy responses.

When journalists, political leaders, activists, and private citizens become targets of OCCs like spyware that has been developed through intermediary chains, the opacity complicates accountability and enables ongoing surveillance of personal information and private communication. Each layer of the supply chain makes it increasingly complicated to trace the technology and sales, further complicating accountability. Adding to this, intermediaries can create vulnerabilities for national security when states are unknowingly reliant on adversarial infrastructure or indirectly funding, through acquisition of these capabilities’ adversarial vendors.  

Through international momentum via the Pall Mall Process and the wide variety of policy actions to curb the proliferation and misuse of spyware and other OCC, a critical window exists to shape the future of intermediaries’ operations within the OCC supply chain and bring them out from the shadows.

Acknowledgements

The authors owe a debt of gratitude to the security research community, particularly to the individuals who spoke candidly about their many years of learned experiences during our roundtables and in interviews; the report authors are eternally grateful.

Thank you to Winnona DeSombre Bernsen and Nikita Shah, whose valuable conversations shaped the early focus of this issue brief. To all who have contributed to the Mythical Beasts projects over the years, this project would not be the same without your valuable contributions.

About the authors

Jen Roberts is an associate director with the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council’s Tech Programs. Roberts leads CSI’s Proliferation of Offensive Cyber Capabilities work, including the management of the Mythical Beasts project series. Roberts holds an MA in International Relations and Economics from Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) and a BA in International Studies from American University’s School of International Service.

Sarah Graham a nonresident fellow with the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council’s Tech Programs. She is also a European Union Schuman Fulbright fellow working with the Center for Democracy and Technology in Brussels. Her work focuses on European digital policies and how they might respond to intrusive and harmful uses of technologies ranging from spyware to digital platforms. Graham is also a policy research affiliate at New York University’s Center for Social Media and Politics, where she previously served as the Center’s research and operations manager and oversaw a diverse portfolio of projects and data access initiatives for interdisciplinary research teams. She has contributed to publications at the Journal of Experimental Political Science and Journal of Quantitative Description, and her writing has appeared in Brookings and Tech Policy Press. She holds degrees from the University of St. Andrews and New York University.

Lyla Renwick-Archibold is a research associate in Artificial Intelligence at the Council on Foreign Relations. Renwick-Archibold previously interned at the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative, where she researched the spyware market. She also served as a Princeton in Africa Fellow based in Tanzania, where she led digital literacy and tech education initiatives in partnership with schools and local organizations. She graduated from Washington University in St. Louis with a degree in computer science, where she focused on the intersection of technology, policy, and equity. Renwick-Archibold has worked in research and product roles across the public, private, and nonprofit sectors. She served as a researcher for Coda Media, where she reported on AI, surveillance, and human rights in East Africa. Before that, at the Surveillance Technology Oversight Project, she published articles on facial recognition and digital surveillance.

Related Reading

Explore the Program

The Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Technology Programs, works at the nexus of geopolitics and cybersecurity to craft strategies to help shape the conduct of statecraft and to better inform and secure users of technology.

1    Roundtable #1 (virtual), November 13, 2025.
2    Roundtable #1.
3    Roundtable #1.
4    As early as 2012, RCS facilitated the sale of Hacking Team products and services, including Hacking Team’s Remote Control System (RCS), to government agencies in Bangladesh, Pakistan, and Turkmenistan. In 2022, security researchers at Lookout determined RCS Lab created and sold the Hermit spyware, and it continues to operate as a spyware vendor.
5    Roundtable #1; Roundtable #2 (virtual), December 16, 2025.
6    Roundtable #1.
7    Roundtable #1; Roundtable #2.
8    Roundtable #1.
9    Roundtable #1.
10    Roundtable #2.
11    Roundtable #2
12    Roundtable #2
13    Roundtable #2.
14    Roundtable #1; Roundtable #2.
15    Roundtable #1.
16    Roundtable #1.

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Reconstructing Gaza starts with giving Palestinians financial agency https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/reconstructing-gaza-starts-with-giving-palestinians-financial-agency/ Mon, 16 Mar 2026 17:56:56 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=913027 Palestinians are dependent on Israeli banks for cash and access to the financial system, and Jerusalem has floated the possibility of cutting off that access. Any credible reconstruction plan for Gaza has to account for this—otherwise, essential aid organizations can’t pay local staff, and households and businesses can't pay for daily necessities.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Any credible reconstruction plan for Gaza has to account for how households and businesses pay for daily necessities.
  • Palestinians are dependent on Israeli banks for cash and access to the financial system, and Jerusalem has floated the possibility of cutting off that access.
  • This means aid organizations may not be able to pay their local staff and, combined with stringent new Israeli regulations on humanitarian organizations, risks further reductions in aid.

Financial agency for Palestinians is the missing piece in most proposed plans to rebuild Gaza after the destruction of the post-October 7 war. Gaza has historically been a primarily cash-based society and economy, but under the current financial system, Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank are dependent on Israeli banks for cash and access to the global financial system. Today, inside Gaza, civilians navigate collapsing markets, shrinking access to goods and services, and an economy increasingly mediated by whoever controls distribution and cash. In the West Bank, fiat currency surpluses have caused alarm and chaos. This all continues while reconstruction proposals, ceasefire sequencing, security arrangements, and donor pledges are discussed at the highest political echelons, without meaningful Palestinian representation.

Economic exclusion is known to fuel instability. More political rhetoric cannot resolve it. Just as employment needs to be central to Gaza’s security strategy, Palestinians need access to reliable, dependable, and readily available monetary systems. The absence of jobs and ready access to methods of payment to buy daily necessities leaves a vacuum that will continue to be filled by patronage networks run by Hamas or other armed actors.

Because the West Bank and Gaza Strip are not a country, their financial institutions don’t issue currency. Transactions within the Palestinian territories occur in the new Israeli shekel (NIS). Palestinian banks thus depend on corresponding Israeli banks to clear their transactions. The Israeli government has passed laws designed to prevent the financing of designated terrorist organizations, such as Hamas, so those Israeli banks need a waiver from the government to do business with the Palestinian banks. This gives the Israeli government significant leverage over money and how the flow of value and exchange is controlled.

Under these circumstances, there will always be new recruits for armed struggle. This is why the mechanics of exchange—the microeconomics of daily life, including the ability of ordinary Palestinians to receive, hold, move, and spend money safely—are central to any path forward for Gaza and the Palestinian national project.

A systemic choke point 

Today, the Palestinian economy stands on the brink of systemic financial collapse. For over a year, Palestinian banks and the Palestine Monetary Authority (PMA) have raised the alarm. Palestinians in both occupied territories (Gaza and the West Bank) have access to banking services that depend on Israeli banks providing correspondent banking relationships, and that relationship is at a breaking point.  

All Palestinian shekel settlements, shekel cash repatriation, and a large share of trade-related payments rely on two  Israeli banks,  Bank Hapoalim and Israel Discount Bank. These correspondent banks operate under an indemnity waiver issued by Israel’s Ministry of Finance. The indemnity waivers shield the banks from legal or regulatory exposure when processing Palestinian-linked transactions (including transactions for the Palestinian Authority). These relationships allow Palestinian banks to clear shekel transactions, repatriate excess cash, process trade-related payments, and maintain access to international transfers and cross-border payments through SWIFT messaging and international bank account number codes—the core financial tools for international transfers between banks.

Cumulatively, this reliance on Israeli indemnity waivers for correspondent banking, dependence on Israeli central bank decision-making, and Palestinian’s inability to manage their own financial sector has resulted in the current absurd state of affairs for the Palestinian economy: West Bank banks hold a growing number of physical shekels while their digital balances in Israeli correspondent accounts are depleted—threatening trade settlement and clearance payments—while there is also insufficient cash in Gaza for everyday transactions.

As early as 2024, Israeli banks were raising various concerns about the future of the indemnity waivers. Throughout 2024, the United States and others urged the Israelis to maintain the indemnity. However, by mid-2025, Israel’s finance minister, the right-wing politician Bezalel Smotrich, ordered the cancellation of the waivers, though they were later temporarily extended amid quiet diplomatic pressure.

The most recent renewal of this temporary status was for two weeks and was last issued on February 12. Smotrich meanwhile had been arguing that the entirety of the Palestinian banking system rides on the profit of the Palestinian Authority’s reported practice of issuing payments to Palestinians convicted of terrorist offenses and to the families of those killed carrying out terrorist attacks (often called its “pay for slay” policy in Israeli politics). Despite Finance Ministry demands, the Bank of Palestine did not agree to de-bank the Palestinian Authority, even as its Israeli correspondent bank was only two weeks away from being forced to cease its correspondent banking operations due to the expiring indemnity coverage.

How we got here

The Israeli banks providing services to the Palestinian economy, either directly to the Palestinian banking industry or to Jordanian banks operating in the Palestinian market, are the only linkage to the traditional international banking and fiat currency systems.

To understand the scale of the Palestinian banking industry today, however, consider that in 2023, Palestinian banks reported processing approximately NIS fifty-three billion through Israeli banking channels. Clearance dependence means that all remittance or donation transfers, as well as the ability of millions of Palestinians to access savings held in Palestinian banks, rely on the renewal of these indemnity waivers, underscoring one of the many reasons that Palestinians need to be able to transact with the international banking system, and have equitable access to its fiat currency, for the territories’ future stability.

Palestinians’ structural dependency on the shekel was established under the 1994 Paris Protocol on Economic Relations, which designated NIS as the central medium of exchange. That agreement established the Palestine Monetary Authority to perform central-bank-like functions, though without control of the issuance or settlement of currency. The Paris Protocol also established the Palestinian-Israeli Joint Economic Committee as a mechanism to oversee implementation of the agreement; however, the last meeting on record was in September 2009, according to EU records, meaning the structure has been effectively dormant for more than sixteen years.

In Gaza, major humanitarian organizations rely on Palestinian banking channels to distribute digital cash assistance and pay operational expenses. Cash scarcity and disrupted physical aid routes have increased reliance on digital transfers, a model that has also proven more transparent and auditable than any other aid model over the years since October 7, 2023.

The humanitarian and financial crises are linked

The weakening of the already fragile banking system continues to unfold in parallel with a significant expected reduction in humanitarian aid and access. Recent reporting indicates that Israel has imposed new registration requirements to continue operating in Gaza on dozens of international nongovernmental organizations, including the requirement to disclose more information about NGO staff. Several prominent organizations have refused, including Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), Norwegian Refugee Council, Oxfam, and others, which initially raised the threat of these major aid organizations being fully denied access to Gaza and the West Bank by the end of February. The Israeli Supreme Court’s temporary injunction delayed implementation of the new rules, pending its hearing and ruling.

The indemnity waiver also allows aid organizations to pay their local staff; therefore, an end to indemnity waivers would collapse aid organizations’ capacities, hobbling the broader Palestinian economy. Such a scenario would be absolutely devastating and have lasting, disastrous consequences for the Gaza Strip, the Palestinian economy, and especially the people it would impact directly.  

As the US-assembled Board of Peace raises its own $10 billion without clarifying where it will be directed to, and is applauded in Washington, the entire Palestinian economy faces the potential of restricted access to the international financial sector. Gaza, especially, faces the prospect that even the minimal aid that was and is being delivered, including medical care, is set to cease, with no clear plan to replace it.

Today, the Israeli government effectively has executive authority, especially through the Finance Ministry led by Smotrich, over whether to bank the West Bank and Gaza. Furthermore, the ministry oversees access to Palestinian tax income sources; since 2019, the ministry has continued to withhold billions of shekels in tax revenues from the Palestinian Authority

The question for policymakers is whether Israel would allow Smotrich to leverage this power in a move that, given its wide-ranging implications, would inevitably further destabilize the region.

Digital wallet growth is a sign of resilience

Over the past year, digital wallet adoption has expanded significantly, with platforms such as PalPay and JawwalPay now functioning as core transaction methods, amid a shortage of physical cash. The United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), RedRose, and others have partnerships with digital wallet providers, which have strengthened this digital financial solution in response to the liquidity crisis and decreasing access to physical aid. Still, the majority of these wallets are tied to banking systems for account settlement, and PMA data indicate that cash withdrawals still dominate wallet transactions, underscoring the crucial role of physical cash, even with digital wallet adoption at scale. A recent report, however, provides evidence that many recipients in Gaza have been able to retain their assistance in digital form and transact for their needs accordingly.

This has been a year of market transition toward digital transactions and the active use of e-cash via digital wallet platforms. The Palestinian system has now had substantial adoption. In 2023, it began with about 684,000 active Palestinian e-wallets holding over $32.3 million, including almost 18,000 affiliated merchants, 4,100 authorized agents, and 2.15 million transactions completed. By 2025, reports show wallet usage nearly tripling over the first six months of the year, from processing $40 million to $115 million, and nearly 800,000 active wallets. The PMA’s own digital payment system in 2025 reportedly saw 2.8 million transactions exceeding $550 million.

The recent announcement by the Board of Peace of an initiative to introduce a stablecoin to the Palestinian economy, alongside increased digital infrastructure for Gaza, is a much-needed step toward a short- or medium-term solution. In the long term, however, this solution remains tethered to the same banking systems subject to external control through Israeli banks.

New beginnings for Palestinian financial sovereignty

A new vision of Palestinian financial sovereignty must provide individuals with access to reliable, secure, and readily available transaction mechanisms. For example, this would include a monetary environment with predictable settlement capabilities, diversified banking relationships, accessible international digital financial corridors, integrated standards for anti-money laundering and countering the financing of terrorism (AML/CFT) and compliance mechanisms, and an infrastructure that enables microenterprises to safely store value and grow.

Financial sovereignty for Palestinians does not imply secession from central-bank monetary systems, but rather a principled, human-rights-based approach to (re)creating a Palestinian economy. Continued failure to provide access and lawful options, however, leaves average Palestinians behind with their existing informal broker networks—often charging fees between 20 percent and 40 percent—and a cash payment structure in which Hamas patronage thrives. It provides another example of Hamas’s financial power and ability to raise and move funds existing in the places where the formal (financial) systems fail.

Economic resilience requires financial sovereignty and market access, which can enable peace and conflict resolution through economic development, resilience, stability, job creation, and more. Every person should have the ability to pursue and have reasonable access to financial inclusion and market stability. This is in part why many developing economies have supported and integrated digital assets, including stablecoins, into their markets. Stablecoins are also paired with new technology for tracking and oversight, such as services like Chainlysis or other providers offering software for investigation, compliance, and risk-management services for on-chain transactions.

True financial sovereignty for Palestinians remains a diplomatic challenge that will only be fully resolved with state-level negotiations and agreements.

Yet, in the meantime, Palestinians can develop pathways to financial agency while accounting for Israeli security needs. For example, there can be new efforts to develop industry-standard AML/CFT networks compliance, without putting Palestinians at personal added risk, including putting KYC (“know your customer”) information on blockchain and other new innovations now available in the field.

Technology as a stabilization tool

There are several emerging models that demonstrate that compliant digital infrastructure and aid rails can operate without undermining international financial regulatory systems. Humanitarian platforms such as Red Rose and UNDP demonstrate that transparent, rules-based digital distribution and transactions are possible, even in the most fragile economic environments.

Though these efforts have proven successful, these digital-cash-distribution projects still rely on Palestinian banking and, therefore, Israeli bank clearing. They nevertheless demonstrate the adaptability of these tools in creating digital aid rails and cash-settlement opportunities, with embedded compliance screenings and point-of-sale integrations, in an extremely constrained context. These models of cash distribution still provide protections, auditability, and accountability for regulations on anti-money laundering and sanctions compliance.

Other futures are possible

A humanitarian crisis is brewing that Israel has a unilateral opportunity to either prevent or exacerbate. Much of this power is centralized with Smotrich and depends on Israeli political decisions, and therefore, it is ever more critical to build financial inclusion, autonomy, and resilience for Palestinians.

Israel and the international community have very real security needs when it comes to Palestinian banking and finance due to the sophisticated use of crypto, cash, and international shell companies by Hamas and its core funder, Iran. Yet, ordinary, civilian Palestinians have very real financial needs. These are not zero-sum.

There are methods for the Palestinian economy to be granted reasonable access to financial inclusion and transaction models that are not dependent on Israeli banking.

While the options to preserve correspondent banking access, restart shekel repatriation, and other solutions are priorities in the immediate term for the Palestinian financial sector, in the medium and long term, Palestinians and their allies can and should be supported in efforts to build both new, accessible, and low-cost economic models and transmission rails, using innovative fintech, which are interoperable with international financial actors, compliant with international regulations, and secure.

A credible plan for Gaza and the future Palestinian state must account for financial agency at the household and small enterprise levels. The “last mile” for Gaza will not rely entirely on physical infrastructure or even on the military defeat of Hamas; it will be its financial future and the corresponding financial infrastructure. Now is a moment when Palestinian tech entrepreneurs, economists, and business leaders can begin moving toward a future free of dependence on Israeli political decisions or external central bank infrastructure.

About the author

Melanie Robbins is the deputy director of Realign for Palestine, a project of the Atlantic Council’s Rafik Hariri Center and Middle East programs. 

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Weakening democratic checks and regional insecurity put Benin’s future at risk https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/weakening-democratic-checks-and-regional-insecurity-put-benins-future-at-risk/ Mon, 16 Mar 2026 15:41:08 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=909422 Benin’s democratic gains since 1990 have eroded over the past decade amid growing executive centralization, shrinking political competition, and rising insecurity. Renewing strong institutions and political openness is key to shared prosperity.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Benin’s National Conference of February 1990 laid the foundations of a constitutional democracy regarded as a reference point in West Africa and beyond—but did not reduce poverty.
  • President Patrice Talon, who came to power in 2016, has radically strengthened the executive branch and reduced political competition.
  • The real danger for Benin is that recent erosion of political freedoms may ultimately weaken development outcomes and the legitimacy of the state.

This is the eighth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

The trajectory of freedom in Benin since the mid-1990s is inseparable from the political rupture of February 1990, when the National Conference laid the foundations of a constitutional democracy that would soon be regarded as a reference point in West Africa and beyond. The period covered by the Freedom Index begins a few years later, when it already captures the effects of that foundational moment: competitive elections, peaceful alternation of power, and the gradual construction of institutions meant to restrain executive authority and embed the rule of law. For roughly two decades, Benin stood out in a region marked by recurrent political instability, authoritarian reversals, and military interventions. While the country faced persistent economic and social challenges, its institutional framework was widely seen as relatively robust.

This overall picture is reflected in the early evolution of the Freedom Index. From the mid-1990s through the first half of the 2010s, Benin maintained a comparatively high level of aggregate freedom, well above the sub-Saharan African average. Political freedom was the main driver of this performance. Elections were generally considered free and competitive, civil and political rights were largely respected, and legislative constraints on the executive, though imperfect, functioned in practice. The legal subindex, while weaker, also benefited from a degree of institutional continuity and predictability uncommon in the region. Economic freedom evolved more unevenly, reflecting structural constraints and the limits of reform, but it did not fundamentally undermine the broader institutional equilibrium.

This trajectory changed markedly after 2016, with the election of Patrice Talon to the presidency—followed by his reelection in 2021. The decline in Benin’s aggregate Freedom Index over the past decade is driven overwhelmingly by a sharp deterioration in the political subindex, and to a lesser extent by changes in the legal framework that weakened checks and balances. The data captures not a sudden collapse, but a deliberate and cumulative transformation of the political system—a shift rooted in a particular diagnosis of Benin’s post-1990 democratic experience as one in need of major restructuring.

Talon came to power on the basis of a critique that resonated with part of the population. In his view, the democratic system that emerged from the National Conference had succeeded in guaranteeing political freedoms but had failed to deliver economic development and effective public policy. He frequently pointed to what he described as a “corrupt democracy,” in which elections were held regularly but governance was undermined by clientelism, fragmented political parties, and pervasive rent-seeking. He often used the example of the National Assembly, where even members of the parliamentary majority were allegedly susceptible to financial inducements in exchange for supporting government legislation. According to this narrative, democracy had become an obstacle to decisive action rather than a framework for collective progress.

This diagnosis was not entirely unfounded. Benin’s political system prior to 2016 was indeed characterized by weakly institutionalized parties, fluid parliamentary alliances, and a high degree of personalization of power. Corruption was widely perceived as endemic, and successive governments struggled to implement ambitious reforms. Talon’s response to these shortcomings, however, involved a profound rebalancing of power in favor of the executive, with lasting consequences for political freedom.

The most visible changes occurred in the realm of elections and political competition. Reforms of the electoral code progressively narrowed the political field by introducing new requirements for party registration and participation. Their effects became fully apparent in the 2019 legislative elections, when opposition parties were excluded from the ballot, resulting in a parliament composed exclusively of parties supporting the president—an unprecedented outcome in post-1990 Benin. These elections triggered widespread protests, followed by a severe crackdown by security forces, leaving four people dead according to Amnesty International. Subsequent electoral reforms reinforced this dynamic by increasing national thresholds for representation that effectively prevented opposition forces from securing parliamentary seats. Although elections continued to be held on schedule, these changes significantly reduced the level of political competition and weakened the role of elections as mechanisms of accountability.

Civil liberties and political rights have evolved along clearly divergent paths. The civil liberties component remains relatively stable, reflecting the absence of generalized repression or a collapse of basic freedoms such as freedom of movement or physical integrity. By contrast, political rights have declined sharply, driven by the progressive restriction of the space for political organization, competition, and expression. This contraction has also affected freedom of the press and media, not through overt censorship or systematic bans, but through legal and judicial mechanisms. New laws regulating online activity and digital expression have introduced strict provisions on defamation and related offenses, which have been actively enforced, including against journalists and civil society activists, often by special courts initially designed to deal with economic crimes and terrorism. The result has been a more constrained and cautious media environment, marked by self-censorship rather than blanket repression, consistent with a pattern in which political freedoms are curtailed primarily through changes in the law and their application rather than through widespread violations of civil liberties.

The legal subindex reflects a more complex and increasingly fragile trajectory. Historically, Benin’s legal framework benefited from the constitutional architecture established in the early 1990s, in which the Constitutional Court played a central role as a guarantor of the rule of law and a key counterweight to executive power. For many years, the court acted as one of the strongest institutional legacies of the National Conference, arbitrating political disputes and enforcing constitutional limits in a way that helped stabilize the democratic system.


Fundamental legal guarantees are increasingly [perceived to be] contingent on political considerations rather than constitutional principles.

Over the past decade, however, this equilibrium has been progressively undermined. Legal uncertainty has increased as successive reforms reshaped the institutional landscape without broad consultation or consensus. The Constitutional Court has gradually lost its capacity to act as an independent check on executive authority, evolving instead into an institution perceived by many citizens as aligned with the governing majority. This shift has weakened confidence in the judiciary more broadly and contributed to a sense that fundamental legal guarantees are increasingly contingent on political considerations rather than constitutional principles.

At the same time, the security component of legal freedom has deteriorated significantly. Benin now faces threats that were largely absent from its territory until recently, particularly in the northern regions bordering Burkina Faso and Niger, where armed groups linked to the Sahelian insurgencies have carried out deadly attacks. These incursions have placed sustained pressure on the state’s security apparatus and introduced new legal and institutional tensions, as the government has sought to respond to an evolving threat environment while operating within a framework already strained by political and judicial centralization. Rising insecurity has combined with declining legal certainty to produce a marked weakening of the rule of law as captured by the legal subindex.

Overall, the evolution of freedom in Benin since 1995 can be divided into two distinct phases. The first, spanning roughly two decades, corresponds to the consolidation of a pluralistic constitutional democracy that, despite its flaws, preserved a relatively high level of political freedom. The second, beginning in 2016, is characterized by a deliberate reconfiguration of the political system that reduced democratic constraints in the name of efficiency and development. The Freedom Index captures this inflection point clearly, highlighting the central role of political institutions in shaping the country’s institutional trajectory.

From freedom to prosperity

The evolution of prosperity in Benin over the past three decades reflects both the achievements and the limits of its development model. Unlike the sharp movements observed in the Freedom Index, changes in the Prosperity Index have been more gradual, shaped by long-term structural factors rather than abrupt political shifts. While Benin has made measurable progress in several dimensions of human development, it continues to rank among the least prosperous countries globally, underscoring the persistence of deep socioeconomic constraints.

Income levels remain low, despite steady growth over extended periods. Real GDP per capita increased gradually from the mid-1990s onward, supported by macroeconomic stability, regional trade, and modest diversification. However, growth rates were insufficient to generate a decisive break with poverty. The country’s economic structure, heavily reliant on agriculture, informal services, and transit trade linked to neighboring economies, limited productivity gains, while income improvements translated only slowly into broader prosperity. This pattern of modest but unspectacular economic progress fed a growing frustration with the democratic system established after 1990 and became a central element in the critique advanced by Talon and his supporters.

Education and health outcomes improved over time, but at a noticeably slower pace than in much of sub-Saharan Africa. Mean and expected years of schooling increased gradually, and life expectancy at birth rose, reflecting expanded access to basic education and healthcare services. However, these gains consistently lagged behind regional averages, pointing to persistent weaknesses in the effectiveness of public provision rather than to a lack of formal progress. Schools and health facilities expanded, but quality, coverage, and outcomes improved unevenly, limiting their impact on human capital formation and overall well-being. The result was a pattern of incremental but comparatively underwhelming advances in education and health, which informed a broader sense that social progress was not keeping pace with expectations or with trajectories observed elsewhere in the region.

Inequality presents a more nuanced picture. Income inequality in Benin has historically been moderate by regional standards, partly reflecting the overall low level of income and the predominance of informal livelihoods. The inequality component of the Prosperity Index does not show dramatic deterioration, but this relative stability should not be interpreted as social equity. Widespread poverty and limited opportunities mean that low inequality often coexists with generalized deprivation rather than shared prosperity.

The minorities component, which assesses equal access to public services and opportunities, remained relatively stable. Benin has not experienced the kind of entrenched ethnic or sectarian exclusion seen in some neighboring countries. However, regional disparities, particularly between the coastal south and the northern regions, have widened in recent years. These disparities are increasingly relevant in the context of rising insecurity in the north, placing additional strain on already fragile social and economic structures.

The relationship between freedom and prosperity in Benin cannot be reduced to a simple causal chain in either direction. The democratic system established after 1990 undeniably expanded political freedoms and opened civic space, but it also generated high expectations regarding the state’s capacity to deliver economic transformation and effective public services. Over time, the gap between these expectations and the modest pace of socioeconomic progress became increasingly visible. It was this discrepancy, more than poverty itself, that began to shape perceptions of failure and fed skepticism toward democratic governance as it had been practiced.

The central issue is not democracy as such, but the weakness of the state that accompanied democratization. Political liberalization advanced without a parallel effort to build strong public institutions, professional administrations, and accountable political parties. Democratic competition therefore often revolved around access to state resources rather than policy performance, while the provision of education, health, and infrastructure remained inefficient and uneven. In this context, economic and social outcomes improved only gradually, reinforcing the perception that political pluralism had not translated into effective public policies or shared prosperity.

[The Prosperity Index] shows no clear acceleration of income growth or human development since the curtailment of political freedoms, and certainly no break with the long-standing structural constraints facing the country.

This diagnosis helps explain why the promise of a more centralized and decisive model of governance gained traction. The argument advanced under Talon was that political freedom had come to impede state capacity, coherence, and results, and that tighter control was therefore necessary to move the country forward. Yet the prosperity data does not bear out this argument. At least not yet. It shows no clear acceleration of income growth or human development since the curtailment of political freedoms, and certainly no break with the long-standing structural constraints facing the country.

Undeniable progress has been made in the area of infrastructure and in promoting new economic sectors such as tourism, textiles, and the industrial processing of agricultural products, including soybeans, pineapples, cashews, and shea nuts, through a new special industrial zone in the south of the country. However, the concentration of economic power in the hands of a very limited number of entrepreneurs close to the political establishment raises doubts about the sustainability of the public-private partnerships established under Talon and the lasting transformative effect of these initiatives.

The concentration of power and the weakening of democratic checks have introduced new risks—political, institutional, and social—without delivering the promised economic transformation. On November 15, 2025, Beninese citizens woke up to discover that the National Assembly had revised the constitution overnight, introducing major changes to the country’s political and institutional architecture. The terms for the president, members of Parliament, mayors, and municipal councilors were extended from five to seven years. The Senate, a new institution with very significant powers, was created, composed primarily of figures who had held high political office, including former presidents and former speakers of the Parliament but no elected representatives. The Senate will play both a legislative role alongside the National Assembly and a regulatory role to discipline political actors—including possible sanctions such as the deprivation of political rights in the event certain constitutional provisions are violated. Until then, the role of regulator of institutions had been played exclusively by the Constitutional Court in Benin.

The amended constitution also introduced a clause calling for a six-year “grace period” during which the opposition party cannot take initiatives likely to impede the actions of the government in power. Criticism of the ruling government would only be permitted one year before general elections. These constitutional reforms were justified as necessary for the country to avoid being in a permanent election campaign and to allow the government to govern. Details for how the measures, which are unprecedented in Benin and quite disturbing in a democratic country, will be enforced remain vague, which can only raise serious concerns about the implications for the rule of law and the preservation of civil liberties and civic space in Benin after Talon’s departure.

The extremely restrictive provisions of the electoral law for political parties to obtain even a single seat in Parliament produced the predictable result of the legislative elections in January 2026: a return to a National Assembly composed exclusively of MPs from the two parties that support Talon and back Minister of Economy and Finance Romuald Wadagni, Talon’s candidate for the presidential election scheduled in April 2026. The election will include only two candidates, and Wadagni is widely expected to win, extending the power of the ruling bloc.

The path forward

Benin narrowly escaped a sudden descent into institutional chaos on December 7, when soldiers led by a lieutenant colonel commanding the special forces attached to the National Guard launched an attack on Talon’s private residence and announced on public television that they had taken power. The coup attempt failed, but the sequence of events was unprecedented in the country’s recent history and deeply shocking for a society long accustomed to political stability and the strict subordination of the military to civilian authority. The attempted takeover triggered a decisive regional response, with the intervention of the Nigerian Air Force in support of Beninese loyalist units, the rapid mobilization of Nigerian troops on the ground, and the activation of the ECOWAS Standby Force. France, a long-standing security partner of Benin, also provided operational support and intelligence assistance. That such a scenario could unfold in what had widely been perceived as one of the most stable political systems in West Africa revealed vulnerabilities that had long been underestimated or deliberately ignored.

Beyond the immediate shock of the coup attempt, the episode points to a far more uncertain security horizon for Benin. The country is now entering a phase in which insecurity can no longer be viewed as a peripheral or temporary phenomenon confined to its northern borders. Armed groups operating in the central Sahel are likely to continue probing the resilience of state authority, exploiting geographic, social, and institutional vulnerabilities over time rather than through large-scale confrontations alone. The central challenge ahead will be one of endurance: whether the state can sustain effective security responses without exhausting its forces, undermining civil–military cohesion, or eroding public trust as the threat becomes more diffuse and persistent.

Security challenges cannot be dissociated from political choices, as each has the potential to amplify the other over time.

Benin’s rapidly evolving security environment coincides with a deteriorating political and regional context. Relations with several neighboring countries have become increasingly strained, against a backdrop of diverging political trajectories and growing mistrust within West Africa. The risk is not only that regional cooperation will weaken but that Benin will find itself more isolated at a moment when cross-border coordination is essential. Domestically, prolonged insecurity is likely to interact with political exclusion and institutional centralization, further testing social cohesion and the legitimacy of state authority. In such a scenario, security challenges cannot be dissociated from political choices, as each has the potential to amplify the other over time.

The assessment of Talon’s two terms in office is highly divisive in Benin and will likely continue to be so for a long time to come. The country’s political and security developments over the next few years will be a determining factor in assessing a decade of political, institutional, economic, administrative, and judicial reforms, which have been implemented with determination, consistency, efficiency, and coldness by an atypical president who came directly from the private sector. On the one hand, there are those who believe that the end justifies the means and it took a strong-willed, self-assured man like Talon to lay the foundations for economic, social and human development that will eventually come to fruition.

On the other hand, there are those who believe that nothing justifies undermining the principles of democracy; protection of rights and freedoms; and political, economic, and social inclusion, which form the basis of a nation’s cohesion, security, stability, and sustainable and shared prosperity. If we consider that development and prosperity include the continuous extension of people’s freedoms to choose their own paths in life, as argued by Indian economist and Nobel Prize winner Amartya Sen, we then must question the appropriateness of both the end goal and the means employed over the last decade in Benin.

Political openness and efficient development are not incompatible; they tend to reinforce one another when institutions function properly.

Looking ahead, the country faces a choice that is often framed in misleading terms. The years prior to Talon’s arrival fostered the perception that political freedom and effective development are inherently at odds, as if pluralism necessarily implies inefficiency and institutional paralysis. Yet this conclusion rests less on an “excess” of freedom than on the failure to consolidate capable public institutions, accountable political parties, and a professional state able to translate democratic competition into policy performance. Political openness and efficient development are not incompatible; they tend to reinforce one another when institutions function properly. The real danger for Benin is not that democracy might fail to deliver prosperity, but that the erosion of political freedoms, justified by Talon in the name of stability and efficiency, may ultimately weaken both development outcomes and the legitimacy of the state, leaving the country more fragile rather than more resilient.

about the author

Gilles Olakounlé Yabi is the founder and CEO of WATHI, a participative and multidisciplinary citizen-focused think tank on West African issues. He worked as senior political analyst and later as West Africa project director of the International Crisis Group and as a journalist for the weekly magazine Jeune Afrique in Paris. He holds a PhD in development economics from the University of Clermont-Ferrand in France.

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2026 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

2025 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists, scholars, and diplomats analyze the state of freedom and prosperity in eighteen countries around the world, looking back not only on a consequential year but across twenty-nine years of data on markets, rights, and the rule of law.

2024 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists and government officials from eighteen countries contributed to this comprehensive volume, which serves as a roadmap for navigating the complexities of contemporary governance. 

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The Freedom and Prosperity Center aims to increase the prosperity of the poor and marginalized in developing countries and to explore the nature of the relationship between freedom and prosperity in both developing and developed nations.

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Is Syria on the right path? https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/is-syria-on-the-right-path/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:37:45 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906298 In the year since the ouster of the Assad regime in December 2024, Syria has undergone a massive transformation. How has this played out so far?

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In the year since the ouster of the Assad regime in December 2024, Syria has undergone a massive transformation. It could hardly be otherwise, given how the dictator and his loyalists had locked the country into a dystopian mosaic of radicalization, isolation, and violence. There is no clear road map for rogue states to reenter the international system—only imperfect paths to travel. How has the experiment played out so far?

Violence in 2025 in the coastal region and Suwayda put the world on alert, testing the control of new authorities. Did anyone expect that those who lost influence with Assad’s fall, such as Iran, Russia, and their proxies, would sit idle and do nothing disruptive during the transitional period? External pressures would certainly challenge the establishment of a “normal” Syrian government.

Domestic pathologies abound after many decades of dictatorship: Sectarian mobilization, torture, corruption, and external patron relationships were tools to undercut potential resistance within the society. Under Assad, intelligence agencies and the Ba’ath party were instrumental in decision-making, operating beyond the reach of formal government institutions. After fifty years of authoritarian rule, and a dozen years of civil war, the country was governed by factions within the security services, power brokers tied to the Assad family, and increasingly by Assad’s foreign backers. This ad hoc but long-standing power structure fell apart in 2024 when Assad fled to Russia on December 8, leaving a power vacuum with no easy fix.

Lack of mandate

Put simply, the current Syrian government inherited an exceedingly complex and dire set of challenges from the Assad regime, both within the country’s borders and beyond. The fact that the most unified and potent military force in the country did not have a broad political mandate caused concern amid the general rejoicing that Assad was gone. The new government in Damascus assumed office upon taking control of the capital and appointed individuals from within Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (Organization for the Liberation of the Levant, or HTS) to key positions to manage the transition, driving international concerns over continued extremism and the lack of representation. The announcement of a more diverse transitional government in March 2025 was a good sign, as were President Ahmed al-Sharaa’s negotiations with Kurdish and Druze factions, but the potential for inclusive governance remains far from being realized.

Internationally, Syria has been under painful and wide-ranging sanctions since the 1980s, isolating the banking system, restricting trade, and limiting import-export activities. The December repeal of the Caesar Act—which was a US response to war crimes under the Assad regime—lifts nearly all sanctions on Syria and is an important step in both unlocking the investment needed for the nation’s reconstruction and improving economic conditions. However, the scale of needs is immense, with conservative reconstruction estimates exceeding $200 billion.

President Trump’s “peace through prosperity” policy, implemented under the leadership of Ambassador Thomas J. Barrack Jr., is pushing Syria to be open to the West and its allies, a big shift from sponsorship by the likes of Russia, Iran, and China. European and American engagement has brought focused attention from international firms—especially US and Turkish companies. Google and Apple have resumed service in the country, ending what has been called “a digital siege,” while the US Chamber of Commerce has seen strong interest in its new Syria program. Turkish firms engaged in energy, construction, and other critical stabilization sectors have flocked to their southern neighbor.

Trump’s influence

Trump’s return to the White House played a crucial role in creating an opening for positive change in Syria and its relations within the region for two key reasons. First, his excellent relationship with President Erdogan enabled diplomatic coordination and top-level trust during the final eleven days of the Assad regime and the immediate aftermath of its fall. “Erdogan is somebody I got along with great. . . . He’s built a very strong, powerful army,” Trump said on December 16, 2024. He added: “Right now, Syria has a lot of, you know, there’s a lot of indefinites . . .  I think Turkey is going to hold the key to Syria.”

Second, Trump’s strong pro-Israel stance and unrivaled popularity among Israelis gave him unique standing to press back on Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu when he called for action in Syria to deter Turkey and weaken the grip of al-Sharaa. Trump’s admonition “you have to be reasonable,” regarding Turkey in Syria, lowered the temperature a few degrees at least, buying important breathing space for the new government to try and stabilize a fragile situation.

Following the appointment of former HTS head al-Sharaa (nom de guerre Jolani) as interim president, the United States initiated the removal of sanctions, including those that had been in place since 1979 This action was prompted by Trump’s meeting with al-Sharaa in Riyadh on May 14, 2025, brokered by Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. This meeting provided hope for the Syrian people and offered an opportunity for their future reconstruction; it also gave the international community a sign of normalizing engagement with the newly created regime in Damascus.

A key focus has been the unity of Syria. The United States, Turkey and the Syrian government have consistently emphasized the need for Syria to stay united with a central government in Damascus. This stance is crucial in countering the narratives and demands of advocates for decentralization, including Kurdish groups in the northeast, which advocate for a federal system, and the Druze aligned with Hikmet al-Hijri in Suwayda, who seek independence. Damascus has refused both while insisting that differences should not be overcome “through blood.”

Internal dynamics with minorities

The Kurds and the Druze received a lot of press over the summer months in 2025, but lingering problems in predominantly Alawite areas pose another challenge to successful stabilization. Following Assad’s ouster, the coastal area, once the primary base for Assad’s loyalists and a major source of volunteers for the Syrian army, transformed into a haven for former army and intelligence officers. Tensions boiled over into a significant cycle of atrocities when Assad loyalists attacked the new government forces, killing hundreds. The Syrian army responded with overwhelming force, leading to clashes that claimed numerous lives—and atrocities against civilian communities described by the United Nations as “widespread and systematic.”

A Syrian investigative committee acknowledged provocations and atrocities by both pro- and anti-government forces, and the Syrian government committed to accountability on all sides. International scrutiny and concern grew, however, when Druze and Bedouin fighters in Suwayda engaged in another round of attacks and atrocities, resulting in hundreds of casualties. By late summer there had been no new major incidents to add to the list of 2025 armed uprisings, reprisals, and atrocities, but the general impression of fragility and low trust persists.

Incidents likes these prompted some Washington-based observers to oppose removal of sanctions. Others argued that isolating or punishing the new authorities in Damascus would not moderate them, though engagement and incentives might. In the end, much of the international community, and most critically Trump and Barrack, chose to support relief and engagement with al-Sharaa.

A year-end  deadline for the March 2025 agreement between Damascus and the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), long backed by the United States, and the SDF’s associated Democratic Union Party (aka PYD), came to naught: The Kurdish side faced a stalemate as they refused to take any trust-building steps and persisted in their demand for “federalism.” The American side, led by Barrack, committed to a political solution and held multiple talks in Damascus, Erbil, and northeast Syria, but these efforts yielded no tangible results.

On January 16, al-Sharaa issued a presidential order granting Syrian citizenship to Syrian Kurds. This decision, which had been denied by the Assad family for decades, included other privileges such as recognizing Nowruz, marking the first day of spring, as a national holiday and allowing the Kurds to use and teach the Kurdish language.

This presidential order came in response to clashes between the Syrian government and Kurdish groups in Aleppo that lasted for two days and resulted in the evacuation of those groups to northeast Syria.

Following further clashes, the Kurdish-led forces withdrew from the Aleppo countryside, which served as the front line for the PYD against the Syrian government. This withdrawal led to a rapid domino collapse, resulting in the withdrawal of Kurdish forces from Raqqa and most of  Hasakeh province. This allowed the Syrian government to seize control of the oil resources and liberate two major cities overnight.

In an attempt to salvage what could be salvaged, Mazloum Abdi, the head of the SDF, flew to Damascus to meet with Barrack on January 18, 2026. Abdi announced that a new agreement had been reached with Damascus, allowing the SDF to be integrated into the Syrian army and interior ministry. Additionally, the Syrian government would receive control of the oil wells and all governmental institutions, including prisons. After Sal-haraa and Abdi signed a revised implementation agreement on January 30th, fighting subsided and substantive, though preliminary and fragile, reintegration began.

Fragile ideological middle

Al-Sharaa has gone through a massive personal transformation that may presage the political transformation envisaged for Syria. He removed his military attire and addressed the Syrian people in a suit, adopted a conciliatory approach to various communities within Syria, and sent a clear message to the international community that Syria would be governed by a president rather than the military or religious councils of some sort.

This transformation faced—still faces, to a degree—challenges from his own base. Al-Sharaa wasn’t the only leader in HTS and other opposition movements, and some who shared his objective of defeating Assad advocated a more theocratic vision as the endpoint of revolution. This placed al-Sharaa in the fragile ideological middle: He needed to avoid a clear breach with more radical elements to gain their acquiescence to a governance model far different than that applied in Idlib during the war, one rooted in pragmatism and good relations among Syrians and with neighboring countries.

At the same time, the interim government must balance Turkish-Israeli competition, repatriation of refugees, and a massive reconstruction challenge. Will the path al-Sharaa publicly advocates—moderation, integration, balancing—succeed in managing the various pressures and challenges? It is too soon to say, but nearly a year after Assad’s fall, al-Sharaa is clearly on the right path. Continued pressure from Israel, internal challenges from Syrian hard-liners, the difficult path to reintegrating Druze and Kurds amicably, and immense reconstruction challenges mean that al-Sharaa remains at a critical juncture. Failure on any of these files could undermine faith in his leadership at home and abroad to a degree that momentum in stabilizing Syria would stall. Yet for now, al-Sharaa remains the indispensable man: The lack of alternatives may be his surest safeguard for staying on the path and keeping key domestic and international backers on board.


Asaad Sam Hanna is an intelligence analyst specializing in conflict resolution, regional security, policies, and strategic affairs.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Ankara and Washington can build on recent groundwork to improve relations and stability https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/ankara-and-washington-can-build-on-recent-groundwork-to-improve-relations-and-stability/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906292 The US-Turkey relationship can progress not only through crisis-producing issues but also through crisis-preventing areas of agreement.

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Turkish-US relations have long been overshadowed and stymied by crisis: S-400 sanctions, the People’s Defense Units (YPG) and YPG influence in Syria, F-35 defense procurement, competitive alignments in the Eastern Mediterranean, and the normative divisions created by regional conflicts. Despite these complex problems, after President Donald Trump returned to the White House, 2025 became a transitional year in which these problems were not solved but did not paralyze bilateral relations; moreover, the relationship was carried forward by increasing areas of compromise. Therefore, as we move further into 2026, the fundamental question is not whether there will be a major break or rapprochement but whether the two countries transform the pragmatic groundwork laid in 2025 into a more permanent working arrangement and make areas of compromise the main axis driving the relationship.

In this context, compromise should be viewed not as romanticism but as a geopolitical necessity and a cost-reduction mechanism. The interests of Turkey and the United States do not coincide one to one but, when they clash, the costs paid by both sides increase. Therefore, the emerging picture can be summarized as the two countries moving toward greater coordination in areas where they cannot replace each other and managing their disputes by compartmentalizing them. The return of leadership diplomacy, coordination aimed at producing results on the ground in Gaza, the window of opportunity for cooperation in post-Bashar al-Assad Syria and the Middle East, signals of controlled normalization in the defense sector, the institutional leverage created by the July 2026 NATO Summit, and Trump’s visit to Ankara beforehand all lead to the same conclusion: the relationship can progress not only through crisis-producing issues but also through crisis-preventing areas of agreement.

Leadership diplomacy

The first practical result of leadership diplomacy was the reactivation of that crucial channel with President Recep Erdoğan’s visit to Washington in 2025. The critical implication of this is that most of the problems in Turkish-US relations are political, not technical; even those that appear technical carry the burden of domestic politics, bureaucratic resistance, and intra-Alliance bargaining. Leader-level diplomacy does not eliminate this burden, but it does two things. First, it removes a deadlock from being a permanent obstacle; second, it produces the political authorization that makes technical negotiations possible. What is needed to expand areas of compromise in 2026 is to anchor this momentum in institutional channels: regular strategic dialogue, coordination between defense and foreign affairs channels, and rapid contact mechanisms that can be activated in times of crisis. Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan’s functional contribution on Syria and Gaza in 2025 serves as proof for the White House of improved Turkish-US relations.

Gaza: Despite differences in rhetoric, results-oriented cooperation on the ground

The Gaza issue in Turkish-US relations can be positioned as an important example of compromise in 2025. Although Turkey and the United States have different discourses and priorities regarding the region, it was possible to produce results on the ground in areas such as establishing a ceasefire, access to humanitarian aid, practical implementation mechanisms, and diplomatic coordination. This stands out as a model in which compromise means producing the same result rather than establishing the same discourse.

In 2026, the strategic value of the Gaza file is twofold. First, it demonstrates that a joint crisis management capacity can be developed despite the long-standing normative divergence in Turkish-US relations. Second, this capacity is not just a momentary agreement. If it evolves into a process that can be sustained through multilateral formats, it creates a common output area that reduces regional costs for both countries. But the lesson of 2025 is clear: harmony is not absolute; it is sustainable when it is functional and goal oriented. Despite Israel’s objections, the White House’s support for Turkey’s participation in the International Stabilization Force and Ankara’s willingness to participate are among the most promising recent developments on the Ankara-Washington front. More importantly, the Turkish foreign minister’s presence as a signatory—standing alongside Trump at the inaugural meeting of his Board of Peace in Davos—underscores the weight Washington assigns to Turkey in addressing the Gaza crisis and highlights the potentially constructive role Ankara could play on the ground.

Syria and the Middle East after Assad

The Syria issue has long been a source of tension in Turkish-US relations. However, the past year has shown that the post-Assad era offers an opportunity to reframe this issue. The survival of the new order, the country’s territorial integrity, the establishment of central authority, the easing of sanctions, and the start of reconstruction processes create broad common ground between Ankara and Washington.

The key point that makes compromise possible here is this: for Turkey, stability in Syria means not only increasing border security but also preventing the risk of fragmentation and ensuring that terrorist threats are not reproduced. For the United States, a stable Syria is an outcome that limits the risk of regional wars spreading and reduces the need for costly military engagement. Therefore, in 2026, Syria might cease to be an area where the two countries pursue the same goal with different means and instead evolve into a partial convergence of means.

The file on the YPG and the YPG-dominated Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) is not completely closed; however, with the SDF withdrawing from areas it had long controlled in the face of advancing Syrian forces, Ankara-Washington ties appear to be entering a new phase in terms of Syria. In particular, US Ambassador Tom Barrack’s remark that the conditions on the ground—and thus the perceived need for the SDF in the fight against the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS)—have changed could be read as a historic turning point in Turkish-US relations. The critical element that will increase reconciliation in 2026 is verifiable progress on the ground in the post-SDF era: an integration timetable, security arrangements, the alignment of local administrations with the central state, and the limitation of moves by external actors that undermine stability. When this happens, the Syria file could transform from an unsolvable crisis to a manageable transition in the relationship. Furthermore, Washington’s goal is both to align with Ankara on the SDF/YPG issue and to play a role in bringing Israel to an understanding with Syria. Washington and Ankara are on the same page regarding Turkey’s political and military role in Syria providing security for Israel. When considered alongside the constructive and reasonable progress on the Gaza file, this could put the United States, Arab states, and Gulf countries on the same page—and, in turn, create an opportunity for Washington to renew its image as a Middle East peacemaker. This is a new historical threshold and allows for a restructuring of the Middle East regional security architecture that produces security for everyone. With its diplomatic capacity and crisis resolution capabilities, Turkey stands out as a key country in such a process. Saudi Arabia and Pakistan’s evolving defense pact—and the ongoing talks on Turkey’s potential participation—constitute a noteworthy development, signaling that regional security is shifting from ad hoc responses toward a more institutionalized architecture.

The issue of Iran—one of the critical topics in Turkish-US relations in the Middle East—stands out as an area to be managed (rather than to seek full agreement). Before the conflict broke out, Turkey pursued a cautious approach based on regional balance, economic interaction channels, and border security and cautioned against the military option.

Ankara and Washington share many interest vis-à-vis Iran, including preventing instability by Iranian proxy networks, securing maritime trade routes, limiting Iran’s nuclear program, and ensuring the resilience to shocks of regional energy and connectivity projects. However, Turkey’s security concerns related to potential outcomes of regime collapse and a power vacuum take precedence in policymakers decision-making.

Nevertheless, the United States and Turkey need to stay closely coordinated to prevent fallout from the conflict creating shocks to bilateral relations. Turkey is also poised to play a role in an eventual deescalation and resolution, in tandem with other regional countries.

Defense cooperation

Defense cooperation in Turkish-US relations is both the most fragile and the highest strategic lever. Throughout 2025, signals of normalization and controlled progress at the rhetorical level in the defense sector are coming to the fore: the F-35 issue becoming renegotiable, the emergence of more flexible language on US sanctions on weapons and military systems subject to the Countering America’s Adversaries through Sanctions Act, the F-16 procurement and modernization process advancing to a certain stage, and Turkey continuing its air force modernization with different options. Ankara’s Eurofighter initiative is a striking example of this.

It would be wrong to interpret this table as an immediate solution, but to say that there is no solution at all would miss the mark for 2026. In the defense sector, compromise is achieved not through a single major decision but through a series of complementary, small steps: technical working groups, oversight and transparency mechanisms that address compliance and security concerns, supply chain and subsystem cooperation, joint production, and modernization packages. In particular, the emergence of Turkey’s need for critical components such as domestic fighter jets and engines presents an opportunity to shift the relationship from the crisis files of the past to the capacity partnership of the future. Real compromise could grow in 2026 as the parties shift from the language of maximum demand to the language of feasible packages.

NATO and European security

One of the most important topics to emphasize in bilateral relations is Turkey’s hosting of the 2026 NATO Summit. This is not a protocol detail in terms of bilateral relations; it is a strategic framework opportunity. NATO is the historical backbone of Turkish-US relations. When the backbone is strengthened, the management of side issues also becomes easier.

Washington’s approach in 2026, which pushes Europe to take on more responsibility and pressures it to share the defense burden, increases Turkey’s value within the Alliance. For Ankara, this opportunity is not just about rehashing the rhetoric of strategic importance—it is about institutionalizing coordination through concrete agendas: southern flank security, Black Sea balance, defense industrial capacity, readiness levels, and new threat areas. If the summit process is well managed, Turkish-US relations could enter a more predictable trajectory over the next year, fueled by a common Alliance agenda rather than scattered crisis headlines.

Russia-Ukraine and the Black Sea

In the context of the Russia-Ukraine War, Turkey’s mediation and balancing policy is seen by Washington as a complementary diplomatic role. This area offers one of the most realistic forms of compromise: not complete alignment but a division of labor. There are differences between the US approach and Turkey’s concerns about Black Sea balance, but both sides acknowledge the strategic value of keeping diplomatic channels open and striving to manage the war in a controlled manner. Trump’s frequent references to Turkey’s mediation capacity on Ukraine is more than a normative position; it is an indication that Turkey’s military diplomatic capacity is understood.

What will increase consensus in 2026 is the institutionalization of this division of labor: preventing escalation in the Black Sea, managing trade and maritime security risks, and maintaining concrete mechanisms such as prisoner exchanges and humanitarian mechanisms could make Turkey a burden reducer from Washington’s perspective. Success in this area will be measured less by declaring a common position and more by operating a common crisis management capacity.

South Caucasus

The capacity for compromise in Turkish-US relations can be interpreted as a quiet coordination that manifests itself in the Middle East, the NATO axis, and the South Caucasus. Although Washington and Ankara’s perspectives on this region do not always fit within the same conceptual framework, the common ground between the two capitals is clear: strengthening lasting stability in the South Caucasus, ending cycles of conflict, and preventing the region from becoming a fierce proxy arena for external power competition. For this reason, the Caucasus could form a constructive agenda in the Turkey-US relationship, one that does not generate major headlines but makes the relationship more predictable.

The logic of this compromise takes shape on two levels. First, it supports normalization and peace processes (e.g., between Armenia and Azerbaijan). Progress toward regional peace is consistent with Turkey’s goals of security and connectivity in its immediate neighborhood, while also contributing to the erosion of Russia-centered security dependencies. Second, a security approach that enhances the capacity of regional actors but does not encourage conflict requires a more measured form of engagement aimed at deterrence and stability without completely overwhelming the field with military competition.

In these early days of 2026, there is another reason for addressing the Caucasus as a separate point of agreement in Turkish-US relations: this region is a rare area in which the two countries’ interests often produce complementarity rather than competition. Turkey’s proximity to the region, its political influence, and its capacity for connectivity—combined with the United States’ diplomatic weight and its ability to generate international legitimacy—increase the likelihood of producing a solution file rather than a crisis file. Of course, there are vulnerabilities. The slowdown of peace processes, disruptive moves by external actors, and internal political fluctuations could turn this area back into a source of tension. However, precisely because of these risks, the Caucasus will be an important testing ground in 2026 for what compromise means in Turkish-US relations: not complete alignment in rhetoric but coordination that enhances stability on the ground.

Conclusion

In 2026, Ankara and Washington can create strategic breathing room in their relations through well-designed compromises. The common character of these compromises is cost-reducing functionality rather than ideological convergence. This includes results-oriented coordination on the ground in Gaza, common ground for the sustainability of the post-Assad order in Syria and the Middle East, a shift from crisis to process management in the defense sector, a strengthened institutional backbone within the NATO 2026 framework, and a division of labor in the Black Sea. They all point to the same thing: the future of the relationship lies not in denying disagreements but in accumulating enough common ground to prevent disagreements from holding the relationship hostage.

If these areas of compromise are linked to shared timelines, verifiable steps, and regular consultation mechanisms, Turkish-US relations could make a real leap from controlled fragility to institutionalized pragmatism. And this leap would produce what both sides need most in today’s stormy international environment: predictability.


Murat Yeşiltaş serves as director of foreign policy research at the Foundation for Political, Economic, and Social Research, a policy think tank based in Ankara and also known as SETA. In addition, he is a professor of international politics at the Social Science University of Ankara.

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Foe or friend? US-Turkey bilateral relations seem set to improve as interests align https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/foe-or-friend-us-turkey-bilateral-relations-seem-set-to-improve-as-interests-align/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906293 If Turkey and the US pursue compatible goals and interests, room remains to balance internal political benefits with geopolitical cooperation.

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Few alliance relationships generate as much public drama as US-Turkish ties. In the roughly seventy-five years since Turkish accession to NATO there have been ups and downs between Washington and Ankara, with the past twenty years marked by particularly sharp differences over regional policy and frequent bouts of public criticism and recriminations. President Trump’s second term has brought a positive turn in tone and optics—but there are still widespread perceptions in both capitals that the “other” ally is at best unreliable and perhaps more foe than friend.

Mutually antagonistic narratives have served domestic political purposes in both countries and have become something of a staple in the age of populist democracy of the twenty-first century. Yet the two countries rely on each other extensively in matters of trade, diplomacy, and security. State-to-state relationships are sometimes smoothed over in public but fractious in practice; the US-Turkish dyad is the rarer obverse: disagreeable in public for domestic audiences while resting on a high degree of alignment and collaboration.

Where do bilateral relations go when trust is low, mutual perception negative, but operational collaboration frequent? The answer depends less on rhetoric or polemical discourse and more on alignment of practical interests: We therefore must clear away the smoke of domestically motivated rhetoric to instead focus on mutual benefit. If two states pursue compatible goals and interests, room remains to balance internal political benefits with geopolitical cooperation in a form of complex interdependence. Whether that is the case for the United States and Turkey is a matter of substantial interest, given the weight that both have in the international system and the substantial number of crises and international matters that affect them.

Rorschach test

Articulating interests is more of a political than an academic exercise. It also presents something of a Rorschach test: If you ascribe ideological frames as determinative of status for Ankara (e.g., neo-Ottomanism, Muslim Brotherhood Islamism, reckless aggression) it brings you to one implied set of Turkish interests. If you accept declarative policy as the whole story you get another implied set. It is similarly the case for the United States: If you assume hegemonic interests are the primary driver, it takes you down a certain path; however, that road shifts significantly between and sometimes within presidential administrations. American interests as viewed by Trump differ significantly from those of his predecessor. Yet pattern analysis over time—observed behaviors and statements toward particular goals—tell us how specific a US president and his Turkish counterpart actually perceive the degree to which their interests overlap.

As an imperfect but useful generality, we can ascribe the following traits to Turkish foreign policy: multiaxial engagement and balance-seeking, nationalistic, hard power/realpolitik, traditionally but conditionally attached to the status quo. For decades, Ankara has sought to maximize autonomy while pressing for positive coalitions, where possible. For most of the current century, the United States has focused on maintaining a privileged or primary position in the international system, leavened increasingly with a dose of parsimony and pragmatism, but resting on what might be called enduring counter-revisionism (still in the tradition of US naval strategist and historian Alfred Thayer Mahan).

Ankara and Washington have demonstrated a generally cooperative approach across numerous regional and global issues in recent decades because their top-line approaches are compatible: one a retrenching-but-potent leading power, the other a rising middle power, both disinclined to establish imperial arrangements or to allow others to do so. A brief review of these issues illustrates this general (if imperfect) alignment by assigning numeric values reflecting relative alignment of strategic and diplomatic approaches between the two. Any such numbers game comes with attendant risk of overgeneralizing and missing some context, but statecraft and policy analysis at the higher levels of abstraction unavoidably entail some risk in this regard. So the numbers below are presented as suggestive rather than determinative.

In the table below, full interest alignment equals 1, partial interest alignment 0.5, neither alignment nor friction 0, friction -0.5, counteralignment -1. Descriptions of the cases follow the table.

Table 1: Sizing up US-Turkish alignment and friction on sixteen issues

Regional matterTurkish positionUS positionAssessmentScore
Ukraine/Black SeaUkraine survivesUkraine survivesFull alignment+1
CaucasusPeace/prosperity dealsIran, Russia lose influenceFull alignment+1
Central AsiaMiddle Corridor/ Organization of Turkic StatesRussia, China influence limitedFull alignment+1
AfricaGreater engagementRussia, China influence limitedFull alignment+1
SyriaStable, unifiedStable, unifiedFull alignment+1
IraqStable, unified, not under Iranian controlStable, unified, not under Iranian controlFull alignment+1
GazaPeace/Israel outPeace/Hamas outPartial alignment+0.5
EnergyDiversify supplyDiversify supply/ marginalize Iran and RussiaPartial alignment+0.5
US global leadershipUS leadership conditionalUS leadership but with counterbalancesPartial alignment+0.5
Trade/defense tradeAutonomous Turkey, sales both waysTurkey buys more/ doesn’t compete with US firmsPartial alignment+0.5
European UnionKey trade partner, accession woesKey trade partner, perceived as exploitativeAlignment but not cooperation0
Eastern MediterraneanGreater role for TurkeyProtect GreeceFriction-0.5
IranDeterred but engaged, stableRegime replaced or weakenedFriction-0.5
SanctionsOnly multilateralMultilateral and MinilateralFriction-0.5
IsraelConstrain IsraelFully support IsraelFriction-1
VenezuelaEngagedDeterred/punishedUnalignment-1

Black Sea/Ukraine: Both sides wish to see the war end with Ukrainian independence intact; neither recognizes Russian claims over Crimea or Donbass, though Washington has signaled willingness to negotiate the status of territories Russia partially or fully occupies at present. Some differences exist regarding Black Sea access: The United States might like to have access for its own ships and more broadly for a NATO presence and routine access, while Turkey has preferred littoral NATO states do the lifting and a strict interpretation of the Montreux Convention; but neither wants a Russian conquest of Ukraine’s coastline. For a Trump administration interested in some compromise deal with Moscow, the Turkish position is complementary.

Caucasus/Russia: While the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP) offers wins for the region and the United States, the Armenian position is a wildcard with elections approaching. Should Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan get the boot in parliamentary elections (to be held no later than mid-June 2026), the United States may tack back to a position that pressures Azerbaijan and marginalizes Ankara. Russian and Iranian pushback on a deal that opens the region to trade on US-friendly terms can be expected. Interest alignment here between Ankara and Washington is solid, though the prospects for realized gain uncertain.

Central Asia: The TRIPP shows US interest in opening up more trade to Central Asia and balancing against outright domination of the region by Russia or China. The Middle Corridor and the Organization of Turkic States both have value in this regard—and have generated more interest from the Trump administration than its predecessor. Central Asia has not traditionally been an area of high investment for the US government; however, energy companies are interested, so having an ally be more engaged is an advantage.  

Africa: US investment and engagement in Africa has lagged, but Washington has concerns about Chinese or Russian influence on the continent. Meanwhile, Turkey has dramatically increased its diplomatic, military, and economic presence in Africa over the past two decades. In countries like Somalia and Libya, Turkish presence has lent heft to US diplomatic and counterterror initiatives. Africa demonstrates the complementarity of having compatible goals but varying levels of commitment.

Syria: Trump has made clear his policy that Syria will be stabilized and maintained as a unitary state and that Ahmed al-Sharaa is an acceptable figure to lead. This comports with Turkish policy, despite Israel’s objections. The assignment of Trump confidant Thomas J. Barrack Jr. as special envoy and positive statements from the US-Turkish working group on Syria have shown close convergence on Syria policy, a remarkable turnaround from the previous decade. The January 2026 agreement to reintegrate northeast Syria with the Syrian Transitional Government was a sign that this alignment was proving determinative on the ground. 

Iraq: Washington wants a stable Iraq that is: not dominated by Iran; oriented to Western energy markets more than Iranian or Chinese; and working amicably with the Kurdistan Regional Government. Iraq may not fulfill all those interests, but Ankara shares them, and the Development Road project to foster Eastern trade with Europe provides a vehicle for all three countries to earn profits while tightening Baghdad’s ties to Western economies. The presence of PKK fighters in northern Iraq remains a point of friction, but ongoing negotiations to disarm the PKK – and US support for those talks – has taken helped reduce that friction.

Gaza: Washington and Ankara both pressed Israel and Hamas, respectively, to accept a ceasefire deal, return of hostages, and military withdrawal from Gaza in return for disarmament. While the truce remains shaky as of late 2025 and the end state Trump and Erdoğan have in mind may differ somewhat, the coordination on diplomatic efforts has been unambiguous.

Iran: There is divergence here between the hard line taken in Washington toward the Islamic Republic and the modus vivendi approach in Ankara. While Ankara may not want regime change in Tehran, and wants to protect trade with its neighbor, the Turkish government has no illusions about Tehran’s destabilizing regional behavior and shares an interest in deterring it. Ankara has tightened enforcement of multilateral sanctions on the Iranian nuclear program—partially redressing a long-standing US grievance with Ankara. The launch of Israel-U.S. Operation Epic Fury to destroy Iran’s power projection and nuclear capabilities has driven fears of instability and chaos along the Turkish border, turning this from an area of some overlap into an area of friction.

Energy: Ankara’s energy diplomacy has sought to position the country as a hub for multidirectional energy transit and major new gas, oil, and nuclear deals have been signed with Washington. US pressure to decrease oil purchases from Russia has created some strain, as Ankara cannot shift to alternate suppliers as quickly as it can with gas.

US global leadership: American leadership that cooperates with Ankara on key strategic objectives, praising in public and transacting in private, plays like music to the ears of Turks. This contrasts greatly with the constraining approach Turkish leaders called for regarding perceived American overreach in Iraq, Syria, and other regions over the past two decades, including demands to reform the United Nations to lessen the power of the five permanent members. Still, this middle power and the great power have imperfect but positive alignment at present.

Trade/defense trade: The relatively light 15 percent tariff levied on Turkish goods and the $100 billion shared goal for bilateral trade are clear indicators of positive intentions. But defense trade is thorny, with a congressional role and some competition between rising Turkish defense players and US prime defense contractors.

European Union: Ankara and Washington remain at odds with Brussels ideologically and stylistically, while maintaining strong strategic and trade ties with numerous members states. Yet the tensions stem from different sources: Turkish desire to enter the bloc and the American administration’s desire to end what it perceives as the EU’s exploitative trade and security practices.

Eastern Mediterranean: The continuing friction between Greece and Turkey redounds against US-Turkish bilateral relations—a problem that continues to play out in the region and in Congress.

Sanctions: The divergences are clear regarding imposition: Ankara supports multilateral but generally not unilateral sanctions and enforcement, whereas the Turkish track record looks spotty from Washington’s perspective.

Israel: Ankara and Jerusalem pursued a rapprochement in the months before October 7, 2023; since then, rancor, acrimony, and mutual suspicion have become the norm. While regional competition over Syria, the Palestinians, and other issues can be managed, related tensions spill over into US-Turkish bilateral relations in a major way—and that seems likely to persist.

Venezuela: Erdoğan’s quixotic friendship with President Maduro had its roots in terms of oil sales and multipolarity theory, but was a clear point of policy divergence as Trump upped the pressure level on Caracas. With the early 2026 arrest of Maduro and muted response from Ankara, this seems likely to be a decreasing source of tension in U.S.-Turkish relations.

A clear trend and policy takeaway

In conclusion, this assessment sketch of sixteen complicated cases of regional and global policy matters yields eleven that demonstrate substantial bilateral alignment, four with significant unalignment, and one somewhere in between. The aggregate score by the simple rubric of “words and deeds reflect alignment” was positive (+4.5 – with the caveat that these numbers are illustrative but rooted more in subjective alignment rather than formal quantitative criteria). An honest critic might quibble with individual ratings and the framing of the cases or argue for the salience of other matters. Yet sixteen is a reasonable sample size, the thought exercise is revealing, and the trend clear: more alignment than friction overall.  

The policy takeaway is equally clear: maintaining a working relationship is vital for both countries. Those arguing for punitive approaches (by the United States) or hedging (by Turkey) disregard potential mutual benefits as well as both opportunity costs and implementation costs. Managing differences and satisfying domestic sentiment require an adaptive response from policy elites in both countries, but the record of cooperation in 2025 indicates that the pragmatism of both presidents fits the moment—and the alignment.


Rich Outzen is a geopolitical consultant and nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council in Turkey with thirty-two years of government service both in uniform and as a civilian. Follow him on X @RichOutzen.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Q&A with Rep. James Walkinshaw (VA-11) https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/qa-with-rep-james-walkinshaw-va-11/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906299 A Q&A with Congressman James Walkinshaw on US-Turkey relations, the Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans, and Congress’s role in foreign policymaking.

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Congressman James Walkinshaw is a first-term representative of Virginia’s eleventh congressional district. The Defense Journal of the Atlantic Council Turkey Program recently interviewed Rep. Walkinshaw covering US-Turkey relations, the Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans, and Congress’ role in foreign policymaking.

This interview was conducted on January 26, 2026 and has been lightly edited for style.

DJ: We’ve heard that you have agreed to join the Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans—great news for the bilateral relationship and those interested in it. Can you tell us a little bit about the role of congressional caucuses in general and why we need a Turkey Caucus?

Walkinshaw: I served as chief of staff to the late Rep. Gerry Connolly for nearly a decade. During that time, Rep. Connolly was a member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee and served as a co-chair of the bipartisan Caucus on US-Turkish Relations and Turkish Americans. In my capacity as chief of staff, I supported his leadership on the caucus and, in response to constituent engagement and the strategic importance of the US–Turkish relationship, chose to join the caucus myself.

Congressional country caucuses can play a constructive role in strengthening bilateral relationships, while also providing a bipartisan forum to raise concerns and address areas of disagreement. Rep. Connolly understood the importance of maintaining a strong diplomatic relationship with Turkey, but he was also clear-eyed and outspoken about President Erdoğan’s persistent efforts to consolidate power and suppress political dissent. He used his position as co-chair to consistently sound the alarm about the erosion of democratic norms in Turkey.

I spent years supporting Rep. Connolly’s work in this space, and I intend to use my role on the caucus to continue advocating for a stable, prosperous, and democratic Turkey, and a strong US-Turkish relationship.

DJ: Turkey plays an important role in several major foreign policy priorities for Washington: ending the war in Ukraine, stabilizing Syria, finding a better way out for Israel and the Palestinians in Gaza, and forging a lasting peace in the South Caucasus. And despite the prevailing polarization in US politics, there have been encouraging signs of bipartisan approach in these areas—illustrated by the trip of Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, a Democrat, and Rep. Joe Wilson, a Republican, to Syria and the region last August. How hard is it to work across the aisle on foreign policy matters in the current environment?

Walkinshaw: US foreign policy is framed through bilateral ties, diplomatic and security agreements, treaties, and international organizations with guiding principles to promote democracy, ensure stability, and to invest and work with partners while deterring escalation or military action by adversaries.

It requires balancing the three D’s: defense, diplomacy, and development. Congress may not always agree on how the three D’s should be best implemented, but it’s important to acknowledge that one should not exist without the other and that’s the balance we are always trying to strike when working on foreign policy matters in Congress. Nevertheless, my approach is to identify a path to “yes.” Effective governance requires bipartisan engagement and a willingness to work constructively with colleagues across the aisle. Even in such a polarized environment, I am pleased that Congress worked on consequential issues such as reunifying families separated after the Korean War by passing the Korean American Divided Families National Registry Act, repealing the 1991 and 2002 Authorizations for Use of Military Force, and reestablishing the program at the US State Department to support the Ukrainian government in tracking Ukrainian children abducted by Russia. While significant work remains, these efforts underscore that there are serious foreign policy challenges where Congress can, and must, continue to act in a bipartisan manner.

DJ: How do you see the role of Congress—both houses—in shaping US foreign policy and interacting with the executive branch? What is the right balance between oversight/checks and balances on the one hand and “divisions stop at the water’s edge” on the other?

Walkinshaw: Congress is the preeminent branch of government, with broad powers outlined in Article I of the Constitution. What we have seen over the last twenty years, when the White House and Congress are controlled by different parties, Congress finds its Article 1 powers, and when the White House and Congress are controlled by the same party, Congress loses sight of its Article 1 powers. Article 1 of the US Constitution states clearly that Congress has the power to declare war, to lay and collect taxes and duties, and regulate commerce with foreign nations. President Trump is running roughshod and Congress has the responsibility to assert its authorities under the Constitution. President Trump illegally invaded Venezuela with no congressional authorization, putting US service members’ lives at risk, has implemented tariffs unilaterally and illegally, and recently foolishly threatened to purchase or invade Greenland.

Congress must reassert its powers under Article 1 in a bipartisan manner. I’ve supported War Powers resolutions to withdraw troops from hostilities that haven’t been authorized by Congress and voted to terminate the president’s misuse of International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA) authorities to implement tariffs on long-standing US allies. This is a consequential moment in modern American history. President Trump has repeatedly undermined the postwar, rules-based international order and pressured long-standing US allies. Congress possesses clear constitutional authorities to act as a check on this behavior. The challenge is not a lack of power, but a lack of political will among some members to exercise it in the face of partisan pressure and potential political retaliation.

DJ: Your district is one of a handful in the Congress that have massive intrinsic interest in foreign policy and foreign affairs—because of a significant foreign-born population, businesses with foreign interests, and constituents involved with foreign policy and defense. Do you get a lot of input from constituents in your district about foreign policy?

Walkinshaw: I’m proud to represent such a diverse district: 31 percent of the residents in my district are foreign-born. VA-11 is home to a vibrant Korean American community, Uyghur community, South Asian community, and many other immigrant communities that enrich our civic life. VA-11 is also home to more than 50,000 federal employees, many of whom bring national security, foreign policy, and public service experience shaped by our proximity to Washington, DC, and the Pentagon. As a result, my constituents are deeply engaged, highly informed, and passionate about international affairs and US foreign policy.

I value that engagement and actively seek input from constituents, welcome substantive dialogue on their priorities and concerns, and work to ensure their perspectives inform the actions I take in Congress. Representing this district carries both a responsibility and an opportunity; to listen, to lead, and to translate constituent expertise into effective policymaking.

DJ: The US-Turkish relationship has traditionally been focused on defense and security and followed the ups and downs of regional crises. Is it possible to broaden that scope a bit through people-to-people ties, parliamentary exchanges, and greater business cooperation? Is there a role for Congress to play in catalyzing that sort of growth?

Walkinshaw: It is possible to broaden and deepen the US-Turkish relationship, and Congress can play a constructive role in catalyzing that progress. Increased people-to-people ties, parliamentary exchange, and greater business cooperation can and should play an important role in advancing the dialogue around the benefits of civil society and democracy.

DJ: Your predecessor, Congressman Connolly, was a co-chair of the Turkey Caucus, and you were a major support to him during your previous work. Is there unfinished work for the caucus, and what do you see as the best priorities for it after several years of being relatively quiet?

Walkinshaw: The late Rep. Connolly was a steadfast advocate for democratic governance and the rule of law in Turkey. He forcefully condemned the 2016 coup attempt and was equally clear-eyed about President Erdoğan’s subsequent consolidation of power and erosion of democratic institutions. I share those concerns.

At the same time, it is important to recognize Turkey’s significant diplomatic role in a volatile region. Owing to its geostrategic position at the crossroads of Europe, the Middle East, and the South Caucasus, Turkey has at times served as a key intermediary, including through its role in brokering the Black Sea Grain Initiative and supporting US efforts to secure a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas.

Moving forward, my approach is to uphold democratic principles while engaging with strategic realities.

DJ: What are your greatest concerns regarding US-Turkish relations currently, and what (if any) advice would you have for leaders in both countries to address those?

Walkinshaw: My primary concerns regarding US-Turkish relations center on President Erdoğan’s consolidation of power and his continued engagement with US adversaries. His suppression of political dissent and pursuit of closer alignment with blocs such as BRICS raise serious questions, particularly given Turkey’s status as a NATO ally.

A stronger and more durable US-Turkish relationship ultimately depends on shared democratic commitments. Reaffirming respect for free and fair elections, the rule of law, and the expressed priorities of the Turkish people would not only strengthen Turkey’s democratic institutions but also improve trust and cooperation with the United States and our allies. With respect to President Trump, his record reflects a disregard for democratic norms and the postwar rules-based international order. While his tenure is limited, Congress retains an enduring responsibility to assert its constitutional authorities. I remain confident that Congress will be positioned to more effectively reassert its role, restore oversight, and serve as a meaningful check on executive overreach in the near future.


Congressman James Walkinshaw is a first-term representative of Virginia’s eleventh congressional district. Congressman Walkinshaw serves on the influential House Oversight and Government Reform Committee, on the Military and Foreign Affairs Subcommittee, and on the Committee on Homeland Security. He is the Founder and Co-Chair of the Federal Workforce Caucus, launched alongside Rep. Steny Hoyer (D-Md.) and Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.)

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Navigating change: US-Turkish defense relations in 2026 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/navigating-change-us-turkish-defense-relations-in-2026/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906303 The sixth issue of the Defense Journal by Atlantic Council Turkey Program, takes up several of the regional, military-technical, and policy issues in US-Turkish relations.

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Foreword

As we enter the second year of the Trump Administration, US-Turkish relations and developments in regions critical to both have been dramatic and fast-paced. Events in Syria and Libya are trending towards state consolidation and strategic opportunity for both Washington and Ankara, while the continuing Russian invasion of Ukraine at NATO’s doorstep, the volatile situation in Gaza, and the unfolding war in Iran present challenges both sides seek to navigate in complementary ways.

Technological and geopolitical developments have increased the need for close consultation between the NATO allies, and bilateral coordination has been evident across a range of issues. Yet strategic cooperation remains constrained by a variety of factors. This issue of the Defense Journal takes up several of the regional, military-technical, and policy issues of interest to readers in both countries and to those tracking US-Turkish relations. In an era of positive relations between the two countries’ presidents, parliamentary relations and policy influence also carry great weight—and in this issue we are pleased to have interviews with US Congressman James Walkinshaw and the chairman of the foreign affairs committee of the Turkish Parliament Fuat Oktay to add the legislative perspective to bilateral strategic ties.

Rich Outzen and Can Kasapoglu, Defense Journal by Atlantic Council Turkey Program co-managing editors

Articles

Honorary advisory board

The Defense Journal by Atlantic Council Turkey Program‘s honorary advisory board provides vision and direction for the journal. We are honored to have Atlantic Council board directors Gen. Wesley K. Clark, former commander of US European Command; Amb. Paula J. Dobriansky, former Under Secretary of State for Global Affairs; Gen. James L. Jones, former national security advisor to the President of the United States; Franklin D. Kramer, former Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs; Lt. Gen. Douglas E. Lute, former US Ambassador to NATO; and Dov S. Zakheim, former Under Secretary of Defense (Comptroller) and Chief Financial Officer for the Department of Defense.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Q&A with Turkish Member of Parliament Fuat Oktay https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/qa-with-turkish-member-of-parliament-fuat-oktay/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=909993 A Q&A with Turkish Member of Parliament Fuat Oktay, covering US- Türkiye relations, the Turkish defense industry, and NATO.

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Fuat Oktay is the chairman of the Turkish Grand National Assembly’s (Türkiye’s Parliament) Foreign Affairs Committee. He previously served as a vice president of the Republic of Türkiye. The Defense Journal of the Atlantic Council Turkey Program recently interviewed Oktay, covering US- Türkiye relations, the Turkish defense industry, and NATO.

The interview was conducted on February 18, 2026 and has been lightly edited for style.

DJ: Recent developments in Syria appear to have removed a long-standing elephant in the room in US–Turkish relations. Washington and Ankara now seem aligned on preserving Syria’s territorial integrity and on the primacy of a centralized government in Damascus under President Ahmed al-Sharaa’s leadership. How do you assess this convergence, and what does it signal for the future of US–Turkish security cooperation?

Oktay: It is true that Türkiye and the United States have converged in recent years on a number of foreign policy issues. This convergence is visible not only in Syria, but also in efforts to end the war in Ukraine, support a durable framework in Gaza, and encouraging progress in the Azerbaijan-Armenia peace process, among other areas. This convergence is for the establishment of sustainable peace and stability in our region. Our region is tired of conflicts and war. The issues in our region should be solved through dialogue and not through armed clashes and war.

In Syria, Türkiye has been supporting the unity and territorial integrity of this country since the very beginning. Now both Türkiye and the United States support Syria’s territorial integrity and unity and recognize the importance of a centralized and effective government in Damascus. A united, stable, inclusive, and prosperous Syria is, first and foremost, in the interest of the Syrian people. It is also in the interest of the broader region.

This convergence reflects a realistic reading of regional dynamics and a mutual understanding that sustainable solutions require regional actors and inclusive diplomacy.

It is the right time to reinforce the positive momentum in Türkiye–US relations to a resilient, future-oriented, principled relationship, grounded in mutual respect and strategic responsibility.

DJ: Do you see this more constructive atmosphere on Syria translating into movement on bilateral defense ties? In your view, what should both sides do to enhance the defense portfolio? And to follow up, what are the odds of Türkiye’s eventual return to the F-35 program in the near to medium term?

Oktay: Defense cooperation should be viewed in the wider context of the overall relationship. One of the main drivers of a more constructive atmosphere has been the direct and cordial dialogue between President [Recep Tayyip] Erdoğan and President [Donald] Trump. Strong engagement at the leadership level has generated momentum across multiple areas of cooperation.

Economically, our bilateral trade volume is approaching $40 billion, and we share the objective of reaching $100 billion. Major items—such as Turkish airline companies’ aircraft purchases, long-term LNG [liquefied natural gas] arrangements, and potential future cooperation in civil nuclear energy—can further deepen our economic ties.

In this spirit, defense cooperation should mirror the positive trajectory in our bilateral relations, as well as the growing convergence on regional policy issues. For this reason, it is important to overcome the existing restrictions affecting Türkiye in the defense industry domain. Restrictions between allies are, by definition, inconsistent with the spirit of alliance and partnership.

At present, there are efforts at the governmental level in both countries to identify a workable path forward, including on the question of Türkiye’s access to the F-35 program. In February, as the Foreign Affairs Committee of the Turkish Grand National Assembly, we visited Washington, DC, and held constructive discussions with our counterparts in both the Senate and the House of Representatives. We conveyed our view that it is neither coherent nor sustainable to maintain such restrictions among partners and allies. We hope to see tangible progress at the congressional level to strengthen defense industry cooperation.

DJ: Türkiye’s defense industry has undergone a remarkable transformation over the past decade. Where do you see Turkish defense industrial capabilities today, and what do they represent for both Türkiye and the NATO Alliance? Looking ahead, what should be Ankara’s strategic priorities in this domain?

Oktay: Türkiye’s defense industry has achieved significant and sustained progress over the past two decades. During this period, we have transitioned from an import-procurement model toward a high-volume domestic design and production model, with a growing export dimension.

The share of local and national production in the defense industry has increased from around 20 percent to more than 80 percent, and we expect this rate to reach 85 percent in the near future.

Today, Türkiye is producing manned and unmanned fighter aircraft, such as the Kaan and Kızılelma jets, warships, armored vehicles, missiles, and rockets, as well as advanced sensors and related systems. At the same time, Türkiye is increasingly localizing critical electronic subsystems, including avionics, data links, communications, and mission computers, as well as smart munitions. Defense exports have now surpassed $10 billion annually. Turkish defense industry exports and cooperation cover 185 countries covering all continents, including such NATO members as the US, UK, Spain, and Italy.

In summary, Türkiye has become an important global producer of advanced defense technologies. These capabilities—both in production scale and technological innovation—represent a valuable contribution to NATO’s collective security, and particularly to European security. In this context, the inclusion of Türkiye in European defense industry initiatives is essential in order for both NATO and Europe to fully benefit from Türkiye’s achievements in this field.

DJ: The KAAN fighter program is widely viewed as a cornerstone of Türkiye’s future force structure. What vision do you associate with KAAN, both in terms of operational capabilities and Türkiye’s broader ambitions for defense cooperation and access to new defense markets?

Oktay: KAAN is among the most advanced fifth-generation fighter projects currently under development. It reflects core fifth-generation design requirements such as low observability, sensor fusion, and network-enabled operational concepts.

KAAN will represent a significant capability enhancement for the Turkish Air Force and will strengthen NATO’s southeastern flank. In addition, the program is a major driver of innovation for Türkiye’s broader aerospace ecosystem, with spillover effects across engineering, production, and advanced systems integration.

A number of countries have expressed interest in acquiring or co-producing KAAN. Last year, an agreement for forty-eight KAANaircraft was signed with Indonesia, and several other countries remain in close contact with Türkiye regarding potential cooperation.

DJ: The next NATO summit will be hosted in Ankara. What does this mean symbolically and strategically for the Alliance and for Türkiye? How do you assess Türkiye’s role within NATO today—and NATO’s importance for Türkiye?

Oktay: We look forward to hosting NATO’s next summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026. The summit will be an important opportunity to review progress in implementing the Hague commitments and to take decisions that further strengthen NATO’s deterrence and defense posture.

As the war in Ukraine has heightened Europe’s security concerns and uncertainty is affecting transatlantic relations, the Ankara Summit will be a critical meeting. Key issues will be discussed, and major decisions will be taken on the future direction of the Alliance.

Türkiye has always played, and continues to play, a vital role in the security of the entire Euro-Atlantic region. Türkiye holds NATO’s second-largest army and remains among the top contributors to NATO operations and missions, supporting both the Alliance’s southeastern and eastern flanks. We have already exceeded the 2-percent benchmark in defense spending, and we remain committed to further strengthening our contributions.

As we are committed to the security of our allies, we likewise expect them to be fully committed to Türkiye’s security and defense.

DJ: Türkiye’s influence across the Turkic world has grown, particularly through the Organization of Turkic States. How would you characterize Ankara’s strategic vision in this space, and what does the geopolitical horizon suggest about Türkiye’s long-term role across this geography?

Oktay: Türkiye has deep historical and cultural ties across the Turkic world. The Organization of Turkic States (OTS) is today the principal political framework for multilateral cooperation in this space. It reflects a shared vision to deepen integration and promote regional peace, stability, and prosperity. The OTS also functions as a catalyst for stronger regional ownership, and with the establishment of multiple sub-institutions, it is evolving rapidly into a more structured and specialized organization.

In parallel, the Parliamentary Assembly of Turkic States (TÜRKPA) serves as the main platform for strengthening parliamentary cooperation among Turkic states and supporting broader integration efforts. At the parliamentary level, we have also developed a mechanism for bringing together the Foreign Relations Committees of the Parliaments of Turkic States. The first such meeting took place in Azerbaijan, and the second meeting was held in Istanbul last year. 

Through these institutions—along with strong bilateral relations—Türkiye is expanding cultural, political, and economic cooperation and coordination among Turkic states, with the objective of promoting peace and prosperity across Central Asia and the Caucasus.Bottom of Form


Fuat Oktay is the Chairman of the Foreign Affairs Commission of the Grand National Assembly of the Republic of Türkiye. He served as the last Undersecretary of the Prime Ministry between 2016 and 2018. In the first cabinet of the Presidential Government System, he served as Türkiye’s first Vice President between 2018 and 2023.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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As Ankara rethinks its Libyan policy, the Haftar family stands to gain https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/as-ankara-rethinks-its-libyan-policy-the-haftar-family-stands-to-gain/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=909998 Libya remains mired in a protracted civil conflict that has divided the country between rival factions. Ankara, which had strongly backed one side, recently modified its foreign policy.

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Libya remains mired in a protracted civil conflict that has divided the country between rival factions in the West and East, each attracting foreign military and economic support. Ankara, which had strongly backed one side, recently modified its foreign policy to pursue rapprochement with neighbors in the region, which has significant implications for Libya and its own influence in a shifting landscape there.

For years, Turkey has backed the Tripoli-based Government of National Unity (GNU), led by Abdulhamid al-Dbeibah, which is recognized by the United Nations as Libya’s legitimate authority. Egypt and the United Arab Emirates, on the other hand, have long supported the eastern faction, the Libyan National Army (LNA), led by warlord and former CIA asset Khalifa Haftar. Interestingly, Turkey and the Tobruk-based LNA have entered a chapter of significant engagement after being sworn enemies for much of the last decade.

Turkey, for its part, seeks to expand influence over the entirety of Libya for economic and geopolitical gains, wanting to gain access to Libya’s vast oils fields in the eastern zone and aiming to impose its stance in an ongoing maritime dispute with Greece and Egypt over the Eastern Mediterranean, where both countries claim maritime territory. Meanwhile, Haftar and his sons seek recognition from regional powers such as Turkey to legitimize the family’s rule and become the de facto leadership of Libya.

Why this matters

These developments represent a significant shift in domestic and regional dynamics. Domestically, it strengthens Haftar’s LNA as it vies for that prime governing role. The LNA is contending for greater international recognition than the GNU, and a buy-in from a powerful actor like Turkey would surely tip the scales, granting the LNA a level of international legitimacy that could surpass that of the GNU.

The international community (as expressed through the UN) sees the GNU as the legitimate force, but will have to come to terms with Dbeibah’s weakened political hand. Dbeibah himself is well aware of the stakes involved, and while publicly he has endorsed what he sees as Turkey’s “backing of Libya’s stability,” it would be naïve to think he welcomes such efforts. Additionally, it will embolden the Haftar family to continue pursuing an aggressive push for regional integration under its command, potentially leading to de facto unification, albeit under leadership with an abysmal human rights record and dubious allegiance to the West.

Why the LNA welcomes Turkey’s support

In 2019, when Haftar launched his military offensive to gain control over Tripoli, the capital city, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan sent military support to the GNU, including troops, ships, drones and advisers, for its defense, signaling Turkey’s strong commitment to the Western-backed government. Today, however, Turkey’s goal of repositioning itself regionally spurred a strategic cost-benefit calculus. Isolated after attempting to become a regional hegemon, Turkey has sought to reestablish itself in the region through strategic reengagement with countries like Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE.

For its part, the LNA stands to benefit considerably from Ankara’s strategic repositioning. First, a potential defense partnership between the LNA and Turkey is quickly taking shape, and it stands to deliver substantial benefits to the Haftar family. In April 2025, Saddam Haftar, the son of Khalifa and deputy commander-in-chief of the Libyan Ground Forces, met Turkey’s general chief of staff, Selçuk Bayraktaroğlu, to discuss a mutually beneficial defense agreement which would include joint military training, capacity building, information sharing, and the procurement of weapons and unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs). Earlier that month, Saddam Haftar paid an official visit to Ankara, marking a new chapter in relations between the nation and the Libyan faction. A subsequent visit by a military delegation from Libya’s eastern forces to Turkey confirmed that this shift is underway, and soldiers from Haftar’s LNA have recently begun training at bases in Turkey, as forces associated with the government in Tripoli have done beginning of  2020.

Secondly, Ankara is looking to deepen its energy ties by investing in gas exploration over disputed water with Libya’s eastern faction. In 2019, Ankara signed an exploratory agreement with Libya’s western faction in Tripoli, but the agreement failed to take off due to eastern opposition. Today, Libya’s eastern powerbrokers look poised to sign it—if, that is, they are granted oversight control over the outputs, after complaining for multiple years of being excluded from key revenue streams and leadership opportunities. If signed, the explorations could provide significant financial benefits to Libya’s eastern area, which suffers from recurring fuel shortages due to its lack of refining capacity. It would also help boost Haftar’s legitimacy by aiding him with key supplies for the local population under his control, strengthening his position both domestically and internationally. 

Third, a rapprochement with Ankara would give the Haftars valuable leverage with Russia and Turkey, enabling them to extract greater concessions from both nations. The Haftars have long been supported by the Russians, especially since their Tripoli offensive in 2019; in turn, they’ve allowed Russian Africa Corps troops to run wild in parts of the country, furthering Russia’s footprint on the continent. While Russia once held greater leverage over the Haftars, this dynamic shifted after the fall of the Assad regime in Syria in January 2025, which prompted Moscow to withdraw its military equipment there and seek new military footholds in Libya. Now, with the Haftar family having the upper hand, the family can try to leverage this renewed position of strength to expand its alliances without fearing repercussions from Russia, Turkey’s long-standing rival in the region. It also can hope to exact concessions from both parties, extracting both economic and military benefits which would help consolidate domestic authority.

Implications for the Eastern Mediterranean

The engagement between Libya’s eastern faction and Turkey will likely have ripple effects across the region. First, it could sour the relationship between Egypt and Turkey over the disputed maritime zone agreements. Currently, Egypt rejects the maritime zone set between Ankara and Tripoli, considering them an infringement of Egyptian maritime sovereignty as they cut across water lines. Egyptian President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi has made it abundantly clear he will reject any association agreement between Libya and Turkey, potentially reigniting tensions after their historic 2023 rapprochement. Egypt claims that any oil exploration will infringe on its territorial seas, denouncing them as an infringement of international law. Such tensions would have enormous consequences for the Mediterranean region writ large.

Second, Haftar, could use any growing tension between Egypt and Turkey to extract greater concessions for himself by playing Ankara against Cairo. By publicly signaling deference to Egyptian authority while quietly advancing his ties with Turkey, Haftar stands to emerge stronger, consolidating his family’s hold on power and potentially paving the way for unifying Libyan territory under their control.


Karim Mezran is director of the North Africa Initiative and resident senior fellow with the Rafik Hariri Center and Middle East Programs at the Atlantic Council.

Alissa Pavia is a nonresident senior fellow at the Rafik Hariri Center and Middle East Programs at the Atlantic Council.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Air defense in the age of saturation: Europe after the post-Cold War peace dividend illusion and Turkey’s Steel Dome https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/ac-turkey-defense-journal/air-defense-in-the-age-of-saturation-europe-after-the-post-cold-war-peace-dividend-illusion-and-turkeys-steel-dome/ Wed, 11 Mar 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=910006 As Russia’s invasion of Ukraine proved the importance of air and missile defense, Ankara's Steel Dome initiative can demonstrate a critical solution.

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By the end of the Cold War, European NATO nations considered air and missile defense to be a secondary military priority rather than an essential tool of intrawar deterrence, which refers to controlling escalatory patterns within an ongoing conflict.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine disproved this view, revealing how mass missile and drone salvos can quickly overwhelm limited interceptor supplies and unready command structures. The threat is not about somebody else’s war. When as many as two dozen Russian unmanned aerial vehicles entered Polish airspace on September 10, 2025, NATO allies responded by scrambling one of the most sophisticated tactical defensive contingents in the world. Italian airborne early warning and control aircraft, German Patriot air and missile defense systems, Polish F-16s, fifth-generation Dutch F-35s, and a Belgian A330 Multi Role Tanker Transport aircraft were all brought forth to track and engage the drones. The imbalance between the overall price tags of the offensive and defensive packages clashing in the aerial engagement was gargantuan. More importantly, Russia could pursue similar concepts of operations in a NATO showdown—whereas Europe’s air defenses would experience wear and tear quickly in a high-operational-tempo scenario.

While Europe debates between urgent gap filling and long-term industrial autonomy amid the drone wall talks, Turkey has taken a different path. The Steel Dome initiative demonstrates Ankara’s early understanding that air defense requires integrated, scalable, and mass-produced systems on rapid timelines.

Air defense as a strategic imperative after Europe’s post-Cold War illusion

During the Cold War, NATO treated air defense as a foundational mission. This paradigm eroded after 1991 as threat perceptions faded. For more than three decades after the Cold War, Europe operated under the egregiously naive assumption that peer-level air and missile threats had receded into history. That illusion collapsed with Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, which reintroduced ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, combat aviation, and mass drone attacks as central tools of interstate warfare. Moreover, the Twelve-Day War between Iran and Israel in June 2025 cemented the new air threat picture. The new conflict trends have forced Europe to confront a long-neglected reality: without a coherent, layered air and missile defense, control of the air cannot be assumed and nations cannot stay safe.

Russia fields two missile types that matter most to European defense: the 500-kilometer range, ground-launched 9M723 Iskander and the air-launched, medium-range Kh-47M2 Kinzhal. Ukrainian intelligence assesses combined annual production at roughly 840 to 1,020 missiles, higher than earlier

estimates. The ballistic and aeroballistic missiles are backed by large salvos of cruise missiles and Shahed drones—the latter marks more than five thousand kamikaze assets raining overwhelming damage onto Ukraine in a given month.

Europe’s defense relies mainly on the US Patriot and the Franco-Italian SAMP/T antimissile systems, both dependent on costly interceptors priced at around $2 million to $4 million each—often far more expensive than the missiles they are meant to defeat. Production is the choke point. Patriot interceptor output across the United States, Japan, and Germany might rise from about 850 today to 1,130 by 2027, and possibly to 1,470 by 2029. Even then, global demand means Europe might receive only a fraction of the output, and combat experience shows two or three interceptors are often needed per incoming missile. Output of the alternative, Aster 30 interceptors for SAMP/T, is projected at only 230 to 270 annually for ballistic missile defense, and their performance in Ukraine has lagged that of Patriots, implying higher interceptor consumption. Compounding the problem, Russia and Iran have been producing large numbers of long-range drones that can saturate defenses, increasing the odds that ballistic missiles penetrate targets. Cheaper, mass-produced systems might eventually counter drones, and lasers could one day address ballistic threats—but neither solution will arrive in time to close the imminent missile defense gap.

Europe’s current air defense posture remains uneven. High-end fighter fleets and a mix of European, US, and Israeli missile systems exist, but warfighting prowess lags behind capability. Interceptor stockpiles are insufficient for sustained high-intensity conflict, production timelines are slow, and short-range air defense gaps leave European forces exposed to the kind of kamikaze drone warfare now routine in Ukraine. These weaknesses are as much industrial as military. The response has revealed a strategic divide between two conceptual camps: the “gap fillers” and the “autonomists.” Gap fillers, as defined in this paper, favor rapid procurement of proven, off-the-shelf systems, primarily from the United States and Israel—predominantly the Arrow-3, Patriot, NASAMS, and Barak systems—to close urgent gaps. In contrast, autonomists, led by France, argue for long-term European autonomy through indigenous systems, even at the cost of slower fielding. This tension defines current debates over air defense initiatives and reinforces Europe’s continued reliance on US-made systems at the upper tier. Meanwhile, Turkey, a sui generis European NATO nation with its national defense technological and industrial base, has an alternative path: the Steel Dome.

Europe’s strategic air defense gaps and Turkey’s Steel Dome architecture

Turkey’s Steel Dome represents a critical leap in framing air defense as a national, system-of-systems architecture rather than a collection of stand-alone platforms. The Russian S-400, therefore, will need to be left out in the cold as a stand-alone weapon in Turkish military capabilities.

Designed as an integrated and layered air and missile defense construct, the Steel Dome aims to address threats across short-, medium-, and long-range engagement envelopes and all endoatmospheric altitude segments, while preserving operational sovereignty through indigenous development. The system-of-defensive system has been endorsed at the highest levels of defense decision-making and support for it continues rising as additional components reach operational status. In late August 2025, Turkey crossed a critical threshold in its pursuit of strategic autonomy in air defense with the first operational delivery of the components for the indigenous Steel Dome air defense system. The delivery coincided with the expansion of military electronics company Aselsan’s industrial base, reflecting Ankara’s view of defense production as a pillar of sovereignty. In November 2025, Turkey’s defense industrial base took a significant step forward with the signing of contracts valued at approximately $6.5 billion to procure a broad range of systems for the Steel Dome.

At the force-employment level, the Steel Dome integrates point and area air defense assets with longer-range interceptors into a unified command-and-control framework. Close-in defense is provided by antiaircraft artillery and very short-range systems optimized for counter-UAS (unmanned aircraft system) and low-altitude cruise missile threats. The Hisar family forms the short- and medium-range surface-to-air missile layer, while the Siper system anchors the long-range air and missile defense mission, extending coverage against high-performance aircraft and missile threats. An artificial intelligence (AI)-assisted command-and-control architecture fuses sensors, shooters, and electronic warfare elements into a unified air picture, compressing decision timelines and enabling commanders to operate in a dynamic, contested airspace. In an era defined by unmanned systems and saturation salvos, this coherence is as decisive as kinetic action. The strategic significance of Steel Dome lies less in individual interceptors than in its integration logic. By fusing sensors, effectors, and command elements into a single air picture and prioritizing serial production under national control, Turkey is building an air defense posture designed for sustained competition rather than episodic procurement. In other words, Steel Dome epitomizes the Turkish leadership’s strategic autonomy agenda. The most critical lesson of Ukraine is not merely about the quantities of missiles or radars, but about strategic coherence. Air defense is no longer a procurement problem to be managed in peacetime cycles. Turkey has already grasped the bitter truth and made its choice to act rapidly and decisively through the Steel Dome initiative—a response Turkey’s European allies should study. The Steel Dome initiative also serves industrial and geopolitical purposes. It is intended to reduce dependence on foreign air defense systems while positioning Turkey as a supplier to states facing similar threat environments. The emphasis on modularity and scalability suggests an export-oriented mindset, enabling partners to buy into the architecture incrementally rather than commit to a single, rigid system.

Conclusion

Europe’s current air defense dilemma is defined by scarcity and sequencing. Interceptors are expensive, production is slow, and operational experience shows that quantity alone does not translate into resilience. The deeper vulnerability lies in fragmentation: multiple systems, limited stockpiles, and insufficient integration across sensors, shooters, and command layers. As long as air defense remains divided between national stopgaps and Alliance bottlenecks, Europe will struggle to convert capability into credible deterrence.

Turkey’s Steel Dome offers a contrasting defense industrial policy. By building a layered, integrated architecture under national coordination from the outset, Ankara has prioritized coherence over perfection and sustainability over symbolic capability or overpriced foreign sales. The emphasis on systems integration, domestic production, and serial scalability is key to the Turkish government. In an era in which airspace is increasingly contested by mass and speed, the strategic advantage revolves around a defense that can endure, adapt, and sustain in highly attritional and prolonged wars.


Dr. Can Kasapoglu is a non-resident senior fellow at Hudson Institute. Dr. Kasapoglu holds a Ph.D. from the Turkish War College and an M.Sci. degree from the Turkish Military Academy. Previously he was an Eisenhower Fellow at the NATO Defense College in Rome and held a visiting research post at the NATO Cyber Center of Excellence in Tallinn.

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Within the Atlantic Council’s longstanding commitment to strengthening the transatlantic relationship, the Atlantic Council Turkey Program conducts research, provides thought leadership, and offers a platform for strategic dialogue between the US, Turkey, and NATO allies to address the region’s toughest challenges and explore opportunities, including in the fields of energy, business & trade, technology, defense, and security.

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Strategy for a new nuclear age https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/great-nuclear-debates/ Mon, 09 Mar 2026 17:38:58 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=904656 As it carries out strikes on Iran's nuclear program, the United States confronts a wider and ever more complex landscape of nuclear threats, with Russia, North Korea, and China all boosting their arsenals. In this new nuclear age, how should US policymakers think about force size, arms control, and missile defense?

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Nuclear weapons are once again at the center of great power politics.

For much of the post–Cold War era, nuclear strategy receded from daily headlines. That era is over now. In the last several years alone, Russia routinely threatened nuclear use to limit Western support to Ukraine and tested new delivery systems capable of carrying nuclear weapons. China rapidly and opaquely expanded its nuclear arsenal, built new missile silos, diversified its delivery systems, and may have conducted a low-yield nuclear explosive test in June 2020. The reliability, survivability, and accuracy of North Korea’s nuclear-capable missiles incrementally improved. In May 2025, during the most serious military crisis between India and Pakistan in decades, Pakistan’s prime minister called a meeting of the National Command Authority, the body that oversees Pakistan’s nuclear weapons. The following month, and again beginning in February 2026, the United States and Israel conducted military strikes on Iranian nuclear sites with the aim of destroying Iran’s nuclear program.

Taken together, these developments force the United States to confront the most complex strategic environment since the advent of nuclear weapons—one defined by simultaneous nuclear challenges across geographies and domains. The February 2026 expiration of the New START Treaty further complicated the landscape by removing the last remaining constraints on US and Russian strategic forces, which raises urgent questions about force sizing, modernization timelines, and the future of arms control. US policymakers must now grapple with whether existing nuclear posture remains sufficient, as well as how best to balance deterrence requirements with fiscal realities and alliance commitments.

This debate extends beyond warhead numbers. New concerns are being raised about how offensive and defensive systems interact to impact strategic stability, driven by the potential impacts of emerging technologies and advanced missile defense architectures, such as the Trump administration’s “Golden Dome” initiative.

Questions about how to deter limited nuclear use, how to manage escalation in regional conflicts, and whether new forms of arms control are feasible in a multipolar nuclear order remain unresolved.

In this context, clarity is urgently needed, though consensus remains elusive. With this Great Nuclear Debates series, we present a curated anthology of perspectives from leading experts who approach these challenges from different vantage points. These essays are not designed to rebut one another or to converge on a single position. Rather, they reflect the diversity of informed opinion about how the United States and its allies should navigate a new nuclear era.

The Forward Defense team at the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security has long sought to elevate rigorous, nonpartisan analysis on nuclear deterrence, force posture, and strategic stability. Together, these essays illuminate the breadth of the debate—and the trade-offs inherent in any path forward.

Read the essays

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Forward Defense leads the Atlantic Council’s US and global defense programming, developing actionable recommendations for the United States and its allies and partners to compete, innovate, and navigate the rapidly evolving character of warfare. Through its work on US defense policy and force design, the military applications of advanced technology, space security, strategic deterrence, and defense industrial revitalization, it informs the strategies, policies, and capabilities that the United States will need to deter, and, if necessary, prevail in major-power conflict.

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New START might be dead, but legally binding arms control isn’t https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/new-start-might-be-dead-but-legally-binding-arms-control-isnt/ Mon, 09 Mar 2026 17:29:17 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=907533 Who killed New START? Moscow and Beijing's behavior is mostly to blame—but an arms control community that privileged the aspirational and performative over substantive measures didn't help.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Far from obsolete, arms control remains an important tool as the US manages nuclear competition.
  • A new arms control treaty between the US and Russia makes sense—but its focus should be inspections and information sharing, not numerical limits.
  • Agreements limiting chemical and biological weapons will be next to disappear unless the arms control community changes course quickly.

The United States faces a pivotal moment in the post-New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) strategic environment. Almost fifty years of forward progress on nuclear arms control culminated with the treaty’s signing in 2010. While it was largely effective in managing US-Russian strategic nuclear competition, New START expired in February 2026 after existing as a hollow shell since Russia’s unilateral “suspension” in February 2023. Over the past fifteen years, other long-standing treaties have unraveled, little has taken their place, and remaining treaty frameworks face uncertainty. Experts debate whether arms control remains a viable approach or is dead, almost dead, or not quite dead yet.1

The central question for the United States is how to balance cooperation and competition in this moment. There are open debates about how the United States should change its strategic posture in the wake of new geopolitical realities. There are also deep concerns about the lack of guardrails and an unconstrained arms race. Despite recent erosions of the global arms control framework, the logic and purpose of formal arms control treaties remain valid, particularly in the present moment. Far from obsolete, formal arms control measures offer a durable and applicable tool for US management of great-power nuclear competition even amid deep political mistrust.  

Who’s to blame?

Two notes of caution should be stated up front. Much of the blame for the current geopolitical situation can and should be attributed to the absence of constructive partners in Moscow and Beijing. Russia’s undermining of the existing treaty-based order, its maximalist negotiating posture, and its obstinate unwillingness to constructively engage have all undermined existing arms control frameworks. China, meanwhile, has continued to reject engagement, even as it undertakes a rapid and opaque expansion of its nuclear forces.2 Over the last few decades, Russia and China have also explicitly rejected US offers of the restraint they sought on issues such as missile defense, conventional forces in Europe, conventional long-range strike, counterspace, and cyber.3

But blame can also be placed on the arms control and disarmament community, both within the United States and globally, which has sidelined itself by tying its approaches and proposals to the disarmament project as a whole, thereby delinking its agenda from historical approaches to strategic stability and the hard realities of the security environment. Much of its institutional knowledge and perspective regarding practical arms control via negotiation, ratification, implementation, and verification has vanished.4 Its public proposals, meanwhile, have resulted in little follow-through.5 It continues to push ideas that lack US bipartisan understanding or consensus.6 It has grown unaligned with the needs of the deterrence community and the realities of the security environment.7 It has lost the interest of the other side of the negotiating table.8 It has spent time and energy finalizing agreements or making statements that are quickly ignored or broken.9 It has searched for low-hanging fruit that does not exist.10 It has failed to cultivate a strong voice in the military services or the Department of Defense.

This implies the need for a new, more brass-tacks approach to arms control—one grounded in security realities and one that can be pursued either in partnership with or in the absence of viable partners.

Distinguishing the substantive from aspirational and performative

In considering arms control approaches, most analyses focus on format, contrasting the pros and cons of legally binding treaties with other mechanisms (e.g., politically binding agreements, transparency measures, or norms). While these form a natural pairing, a more helpful contemporary contrast lies in distinguishing between substantive, aspirational, and performative arms control proposals. Loose conceptions of the three are as follows.   

Substantive: The function of substantive arms control proposals is to create leverage and consensus through formal processes such as interagency negotiations around a proximate or impending national security goal. While interests and approaches must be negotiated, there is typically recognition of hard security challenges best managed through selective cooperation amid broader competition. Defense officials are integral to this process. Goals are seen as achievable in the short term.11 Leverage is created in negotiations between internal stakeholders in the process. Outside the negotiations, external measures can be taken to demonstrate that negotiating is beneficial.    

Aspirational: The function of aspirational arms control proposals is to create leverage by setting high standards or goals that other states will be pressured to meet. Interests and approaches might differ sharply, but there are believed to be shared positions on conceptual or normative desires on overarching concepts such as strategic stability, transparency, or risk reduction. Goals are typically ambitious and longer term. Leverage is created by creating consensus or coalitions of the willing, which can depict non-participants as non-adherents to proper ethical or moral standards.  

Performative: The function of performative arms control proposals is to create leverage through virtue signaling, scoring points on the international stage, or casting blame on others. Other actors’ interests and approaches might be largely irrelevant, as there is little expectation of needing to move toward an actual agreement via the more challenging processes of negotiation, verification, or enforcement. In many cases, leverage is unnecessary; the statement or display’s end goal in changing the discourse on the topic or the social reality.  

Debates about the agreement’s form, while interesting, are less important than those about its function or purpose.12 Treaty-based arms control can be aspirational or performative, just as political statements can be substantive.13 Categorization can also change over time: For example, a substantive proposal made at a particular time might become more aspirational or performative as geopolitical circumstances change.14 Arms control’s overemphasis on form creates major problems when it comes to articulating the function of arms control proposals in the national security space. As former arms control negotiator Linton Brooks wrote presciently in 2020, “The commonest form of stupidity is forgetting what one is trying to accomplish.”15

Hard security realities need practical solutions

Arguments against aspirational and performative approaches at this moment are simple. Russia and China have shown they do not share US aspirations regarding arms control and disarmament concepts such as risk reduction, escalation avoidance, and strategic stability.16 There are no longer moments of shared aspirational interests as seen in past US-Soviet and US-Russian statements on strategic stability.17 China views formal arms control as a “trick” and has likewise been unwilling to engage with US proposals on risk reduction.18 Moscow and Beijing see value in creating risks, manipulating escalation, and fostering instabilities to further their revisionist aims in Europe and Asia.19 Allied or nonaligned countries that might share US aspirations have shown little willingness to pressure Moscow and Beijing to engage. Also, there is simply no time for performative approaches given geopolitical realities. Showmanship and virtue signaling are acceptable when they influence internal conversations or when others are doing the concrete work of negotiating, implementing, and maintaining substantive agreements. Absent this influence, and given rapid erosion, there is little value gained in appearances for international and domestic audiences.  

In contrast, there are many arguments for a more substantive approach to arms control. Thought and energy in the field need to be devoted to substantive work to repair and rebuild from the decay of the last fifteen years. Otherwise, remaining agreements on nonproliferation, chemical weapons, biological weapons, and outer space will be next to disappear after New START’s expiration.20 Communities focused on arms control need to reconnect practical solutions and hard security realities. There is a need to rebuild a US consensus, both between the legislative and executive branches and within the US interagency (particularly in the defense and deterrence community). There is a need to ground proposals in negotiability, in terms of what the United States wants and what it is willing to include in talks. There is a need to rebuild or repair the arms control landscape in a stable and durable way to manage the emerging challenges in the strategic nuclear landscape.21 Finally, this must be done in a way that allows the United States to meet its deterrence and security requirements as they continue to evolve in a two-peer, multipolar, and multidomain environment.22

Key elements of a US-Russia agreement

Substantive arms control has a clear function and purpose in managing the next decade of anticipated multipolar nuclear modernization after New START’s expiration. The trick is coming up with a substantive proposal that is durable enough to withstand partisan domestic politics and international ups and downs, flexible enough to allow for adaptation and technological surprise, and concrete enough to be grounds for detailed conversations. Key boxes must be checked in the US system regarding Russian so-called novel systems and Russia’s nonstrategic nuclear weapons.23 How the boxes are ultimately checked will be open to negotiation between the parties. The proposal must also have buy-in from the deterrence and defense communities on both sides as well as regional offices dealing with US-Russian relations, requiring time, energy, patience, and expertise. Expectations should be managed accordingly. The needs for durability, concreteness, and interagency buy-in suggest a legally binding treaty approach, and flexibility and managed expectations suggest limited aims. 

With China’s participation unlikely, a follow-on US-Russia agreement designed to manage bilateral strategic nuclear competition over the next five to ten years makes sense. Such a substantive agreement with Russia will require discarding many of the aspirational or performative preconditions both sides stated earlier in the verbal jockeying about what should be in a New START follow-on agreement.24 The focus should instead be on the key challenge of managing US-Russia nuclear competition while the United States responds to China’s nuclear buildup. The main purpose of a US-Russia agreement would be to avoid wasteful or costly bilateral misperceptions through a legally binding mechanism that consists of data exchanges, notifications, inspections, and implementation body meetings.

The key elements of a substantive post-New START agreement are all realistic and achievable.

  • With this larger purpose in mind, hard US-Russia central limits—the likely key negotiating stumbling block—are either wholly unnecessary or can be set safely higher than New START limits. Again, the key goal is to have the flexibility in a bilateral agreement to respond to Chinese nuclear force expansion.
  • Regarding implementation provisions, New START’s text could be updated to include Russian strategic-range nuclear systems alongside intercontinental ballistic missiles, submarine-launched ballistic missiles, and heavy bombers. 
  • Data exchanges and notifications can be expanded to exchange information on total nuclear arsenals. 
  • Inspections at warhead storage facilities can be added to confirm the accuracy of the declared data.  
  • The treaty could be set for five years, with a further five-year extension, to take a bilateral treaty to a point at which the United States needs to make harder decisions about where to go next in its strategic modernization program vis-à-vis China. 
  • Unilateral withdrawal clauses could be built into the treaty, with the United States’ clause tied to Chinese nuclear expansion and Russia’s tied to US missile defense expansion. 

The United States could propose a substantive, concrete framework of such a treaty relatively easily. Its purpose can be clearly articulated to public audiences and internal US stakeholders as a reasonable adaptation to modern realities. It does not raise the stakes too high for potential Russian engagement. It would be built mainly on the legal textual foundation of a successful legacy agreement. It would check the box on congressional interest in Russian nuclear systems of concern unaddressed by New START and begin gathering information on total warhead numbers. It would sidestep the major potential criticism by leaving the United States able to respond to China. It would set the framing and terms of the forthcoming “interregnum debate,” over where arms control is headed now that New START has formally expired. It would serve as a useful capacity-building exercise for both Congress and intergovernmental experts to relearn the process of treaty negotiation, ratification, implementation, and verification. It could serve as a bridge to a future point at which reductions are possible or more parties are willing to substantively engage. 

To encourage Chinese participation, the United States could couple this substantive bilateral treaty proposal with a multilateral treaty proposal including the five permanent nations of the United Nations (P5). Because such a negotiation would involve states with divergent force levels and limited shared experiences, it would require a trade-off between the depth and scope of the multilateral agreement, essentially trading broader engagement for deeper implementation. In this construct, the United States, the United Kingdom, and France could jointly propose a P3 agreement to Russia and China on a simple premise: information sharing regarding nuclear holdings and limited reciprocal access. Russia has already gone much further with the United States under existing frameworks and has repeatedly called for the inclusion of the United Kingdom and France—conditions that this proposal would satisfy. China would be isolated as the remaining holdout. While China will ultimately decide to engage based on its own assessment of risks and benefits, such an approach would clarify for the broader international community where the principal obstacle to progress lies. 

Former senior arms control negotiator Paul Warnke wrote in 1986, “One of the real problems in arms control is that neither side needs a deal.”25 Having articulated these substantive proposals clearly, the United States should proceed with putting its own strategic and regional deterrence houses in order. If Russia and China do not engage, the United States should not chase them. There is no silver bullet that will magically turn Vladimir Putin’s Russia or Xi Jinping’s China into willing negotiating partners. The United States should instead focus on the best alternative to a negotiated agreement (what negotiations literature calls a BATNA), working to improve its own position and weaken Russia and China’s positions.26 This structure—a bilateral proposal, a multilateral proposal, and a BATNA proposal—is a more holistic negotiating approach than searching for trade space or bargaining chips to create and then negotiate away.   

The merits of “old school” arms control 

Admittedly, this is an old school approach to a rapidly evolving problem set. There is a strong reliance on past mechanisms such as negotiations, interagency implementation, and data analysis, and a historical coupling of concrete, detailed cooperative agreements with continued strategic competition. There are no illusions about what these agreements can achieve or what geopolitical trends they can stop in their tracks. This will leave many in search of new approaches to arms control unsatisfied. There are no specific carveouts for emerging technologies like artificial intelligence or fast-moving issues like Golden Dome. There is no call for new, more intrusive, or more technology-dependent verification measures. This is because searches for new aspirational or performative approaches over the last fifteen years—aimed at going lower in numbers of launchers or warheads, capturing a wide range of new and emerging threats, and looping in more countries—have not proven fruitful. In pursuing these searches, time has run out for many agreements. The lack of results has validated that legally binding arms control might again be necessary.  

As Brooks wrote in 2020, “International agreements are only impossible until they aren’t.”27 The present moment demands an approach that is substantive, flexible, and reactive enough to respond to the two-peer challenge posed by Putin’s Russia and Xi’s China. What has been articulated here—a bilateral treaty proposal with Russia, a multilateral P5 proposal, and a simultaneous US modernization in the absence of cooperation—might not gain near-term acceptance in Moscow and Beijing, but it offers a concrete and coherent US arms control strategy in the post-New START era. It also serves as a rallying point within the arms control and disarmament communities to begin thinking more substantively about which proposals and negotiating positions meet the present moment, encouraging a shift from aspirational or performative rhetoric to practical negotiability. Without substantive focus, aspirational and performative proposals will continue to dominate the discourse and the community will continue to lose relevance in the broader national security debate. 

This issue brief is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and This issue brief is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s Great nuclear debate series, a curated anthology of perspectives on arms control, force sizing, and missile defense from leading experts.

About the author

Michael Albertson is deputy director of the Center for Global Security Research at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory. Prior to his current position, he worked in the federal government in a wide variety of Russia, deterrence, and arms control-related portfolios for the Department of Defense, the State Department, and the National Security Council staff. His work on Russian strategic nuclear arms control issues included implementation and compliance of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty and New START and participation in the negotiation and ratification of the New START Treaty. 

The views expressed here are the personal views of the author and should not be attributed to his employer or any of its sponsors. 

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1    Ward Wilson, “Why Nuclear Arms Control Is Dead,” Hill, July 9, 2021, https://thehill.com/opinion/national-security/561786-why-nuclear-arms-control-is-dead/; Ulrich Kühn, “Why Arms Control Is (Almost) Dead,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, March 5, 2020, https://carnegieendowment.org/europe/strategic-europe/2020/03/why-arms-control-is-almost-dead?lang=en; Ross Gottemoeller, “Arms Control Is Not Dead Yet: America Should Pursue Parallel Nuclear Negotiations with China and Russia,” Foreign Affairs, April 15, 2025, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/united-states/arms-control-not-dead-yet.
2    Peter Huessy, “Have Russia and China Killed Nuclear Arms Control?” National Interest, February 20, 2022, https://nationalinterest.org/feature/have-russia-and-china-killed-nuclear-arms-control-200573.
3    Tom Z. Collina, “U.S.-Russia Missile Defense Talks Deadlock,” Arms Control Association, January 2012, https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2012-01/us-russia-missile-defense-talks-deadlock; Gabriela Rosa Hernández, “Russia Refuses Annual Vienna Document Data Exchange,” Arms Control Association, March 2023, https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2023-03/news/russia-refuses-annual-vienna-document-data-exchange; Tom Z. Collina, “U.S. Alters Non-Nuclear Prompt-Strike Plan,” Arms Control Association, April 2011, https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2011-04/us-alters-non-nuclear-prompt-strike-plan; Shizuka Kuramitsu, “Russia Vetoes UN Resolution on Outer Space Treaty,” Arms Control Association, May 2024, https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2024-05/news/russia-vetoes-un-resolution-outer-space-treaty; “Fact Sheet: U.S.-Russian Cooperation on Information and Communications Technology Security,” White House, press release, June 17, 2013, https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2013/06/17/fact-sheet-us-russian-cooperation-information-and-communications-technol.
4    Laura Kennedy, “Nuclear Arms Control and Nonproliferation Remain Critical National Security Challenges. How Prepared Is the State Department to Deal with These Issues?” American Foreign Service Association, January–February 2021, https://afsa.org/getting-state-back-nuclear-arms-control-and-nonproliferation.
5    “Under Secretary Bonnie Jenkins’ Remarks: Nuclear Arms Control: A New Era?” US Department of State, September 6, 2021, https://2021-2025.state.gov/under-secretary-bonnie-jenkins-remarks-nuclear-arms-control-a-new-era/.
6    Steven Pifer, “The Logic for US Ratification of the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty,” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, March 7, 2024, https://thebulletin.org/premium/2024-03/the-logic-for-us-ratification-of-the-comprehensive-nuclear-test-ban-treaty/.
7    Michael Albertson, ed., “Aligning Arms Control with the New Security Environment,” Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, May 2024, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2024-08/2024-0528-cgsr-cccasional-paper-aligning-arms-control.pdf.
8    Xiaodon Liang and Shizuka Kuramitsu, “China Silent on U.S. Risk Reduction Proposals,” Arms Control Association, June 2024, https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2024-06/news/china-silent-us-risk-reduction-proposals.
9    “Joint Statement of the Leaders of the Five Nuclear-Weapon States on Preventing Nuclear War and Avoiding Arms Races,” White House, press release, January 3, 2022, https://bidenwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2022/01/03/p5-statement-on-preventing-nuclear-war-and-avoiding-arms-races/; Nivedita Raju, “Russia’s Anti-Satellite Test Should Lead to a Multilateral Ban,” Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, December 7, 2021, https://www.sipri.org/commentary/essay/2021/russias-anti-satellite-test-should-lead-multilateral-ban; “Russian Direct-Ascent Anti-Satellite Missile Test Creates Significant, Long-Lasting Space Debris,” US Space Command, press release, November 15, 2021, https://www.spacecom.mil/Newsroom/News/Article-Display/Article/2842957/russian-direct-ascent-anti-satellite-missile-test-creates-significant-long-last/; Anya L. Fink, “Russia’s Nuclear and Coercive Signaling During the War in Ukraine,” Congressional Research Service, November 26, 2024, https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/IN12464.
10     Zhao, “Practical Ways to Promote U.S.-China Arms Control Cooperation,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, October 7, 2020, https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2020/10/practical-ways-to-promote-us-china-arms-control-cooperation?lang=en.
11    Hence the historical focus of arms control deals on bilateral summitry.
12    For more on prioritizing function over form in arms control, see: Michael Albertson, “Closing the Gap: Aligning Arms Control Concepts with Emerging Challenges,” Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, February 2022, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2024-08/CGSR_Livermore_Paper_10_Closing_the_Gap_0.pdf.
13    “Fissile Material Cut-off Treaty (FMCT) at a Glance,” Arms Control Association, November 2024, https://www.armscontrol.org/factsheets/fissile-material-cut-treaty-fmct-glance; “Treaty on the Prevention of the Placement of Weapons in Outer Space, the Threat or Use of Force against Outer Space Objects,” 2014, https://www.reachingcriticalwill.org/images/documents/Disarmament-fora/cd/2014/documents/PPWT2014.pdf; Susan J. Koch, “The Presidential Nuclear Initiatives of 1991–1992,” Center for the Study of Weapons of Mass Destruction, National Defense University, September 2012, https://ndupress.ndu.edu/portals/68/documents/casestudies/cswmd_casestudy-5.pdf.
14    One concrete example of this would be calls for banning intermediate-range ground-launched cruise missiles. A substantive proposal could have been made twenty years ago to multilateralize the agreement beyond the parties of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty. This would have been aspirational when China was increasingly expanding its missile systems and Russia’s return to compliance was questionable. This same proposal now would be largely performative given security realities.
15    Linton F. Brooks, “The End of Arms Control?” Daedalus 149, 2 (2020), 84–100, https://direct.mit.edu/daed/article/149/2/84/27315/The-End-of-Arms-Control.
16    “Sustaining the Nuclear Peace: On the Urgent Need for a New Strategy for Stability,” United States Institute for Peace, February 2025, https://irp.cdn-website.com/ce29b4c3/files/uploaded/USIP+Senior+Study+Group+on+Strategic+Stability+Final+Report.pdf.
17    “Soviet-United States Joint Statement on Future Negotiations on Nuclear and Space Arms and Further Enhancing Strategic Stability,” White House Office of the Press Secretary, June 1, 1990, https://bush41library.tamu.edu/archives/public-papers/1938; “Joint Statement by the Presidents of the United States of America and the Russian Federation on Principles of Strategic Stability,” White House, press release, June 4, 2000, https://clintonwhitehouse4.archives.gov/WH/New/Europe-0005/factsheets/js–strategic-stability.html.
18    Robert Rust, “Could China’s New Nuclear Weapons Signal a New Era of Arms Control?” Union of Concerned Scientists, October 1, 2025, https://blog.ucs.org/robert-rust/could-chinas-new-nuclear-weapons-signal-a-new-era-of-arms-control/; Wu Riqiang, “Why Isn’t China Interested in Nuclear Risk Reduction?” Lawfare, September 7, 2025, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/why-isn-t-china-interested-in-nuclear-risk-reduction.
19    “China’s Emergence as a Second Nuclear Peer: Implications for U.S. Nuclear Deterrent Strategy,” Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, Spring 2023, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2024-08/cgsr_two_peer_230314.pdf.
20    “Facing the Arms Control Interregnum: Workshop Summary,” Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory August 9–10, 2022, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2024-08/Workshop-Summary-Arms-Control-Interregnum.pdf.
21    See the arms control recommendations in “China’s Emergence as a Second Nuclear Peer.”
22    “America’s Strategic Posture,” Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States, October 2023, https://www.ida.org/-/media/feature/publications/a/am/americas-strategic-posture/strategic-posture-commission-report.ashx.
23    Spenser A. Warren, “Russian Novel Nuclear Weapons and War-Fighting Capabilities,” U.S. Army War College, March 20, 2025, https://publications.armywarcollege.edu/News/Display/Article/4129339/russian-novel-nuclear-weapons-and-war-fighting-capabilities/.
24    RFE/RL, “Putin Offers To Extend Last Nuclear Arms Pact With US,” RadioFreeEurope Radio Liberty, September, 22, 2025, Putin Offers To Extend Last Nuclear Arms Pact With US.
25    ”Paul C. Warnke, “Lessons Learned in Bilateral Negotiations” in Leon Sloss and M. Scott Davis, A Game for High Stakes: Lessons Learned in Negotiating with the Soviet Union (Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1986), 55.
26    Guhan Subramanian, “What Is BATNA? How to Find Your Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement,” Program on Negotiation, Harvard Law School, October 7, 2025, https://www.pon.harvard.edu/daily/batna/translate-your-batna-to-the-current-deal/.
27    Brooks, “The End of Arms Control?”

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Expanding transmission infrastructure to achieve low-cost, reliable, and abundant energy https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/expanding-transmission-infrastructure-for-low-cost-reliable-abundant-energy/ Tue, 03 Mar 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=907586 With demand for electricity rising, the United States needs a long-term strategy to expand the power grid and improve energy reliability and affordability.

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Electricity demand in the United States is growing rapidly, driven primarily by data centers and electrification. But the buildout of new transmission wires to deliver power from generator to end user has stalled. Expanding and modernizing the US grid is essential to meet surging electricity demand while keeping energy affordable and reliable.

To achieve these goals, however, utilities, policymakers, regulators, and other stakeholders will have to overcome four major barriers to transmission development: slow and fragmented permitting processes involving dozens of federal and state agencies; the high cost of rebuilding decades-old infrastructure; siloed utility planning that prevents regional coordination and cost-sharing; and supply chain constraints on key energy materials.

Recent Department of Energy initiatives, Federal Energy Regulatory Commission rulemakings, executive actions, and legislative efforts have made some progress to enable transmission expansion, but much more work is needed. This report outlines what actions utilities, policymakers, and regulators can take to achieve the following: proactive, long-term, coordinated system planning across regions; streamlined permitting with clear deadlines and more effective community engagement; the deployment of advanced transmission technologies like advanced conductors and dynamic line ratings; the implementation of energy efficiency and demand response programs; the development of innovative financing tools; and the diversification of supply chains for critical materials.

These actions comprise a comprehensive strategy to expand and modernize US transmission infrastructure that can yield multiples in savings over time, making grid expansion central to achieving an affordable, reliable, and sustainable energy system.

By the numbers

1,700 miles: the number of miles of new high-voltage transmission lines built per year between 2010-2014.

350 miles: the number of high-voltage transmission lines built per year between 2020-2023.

6.5 years: average time it takes for a project to complete the permitting process.

2,600 gigawatts: the amount of new generation capacity awaiting interconnection to the grid.

$20.8 billion: cost to consumers of grid congestion in 2022.

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Turkey’s gas diversification strategy and rising share of LNG https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/turkeys-gas-diversification-strategy-and-rising-share-of-lng/ Tue, 03 Mar 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=908456 An analysis of Turkey's LNG diversification strategy from 2016 to 2025 and the geopolitical implications of Turkey’s emergence as a gas exporter to Europe.

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Executive summary

Since the adoption of the National Energy and Mining Policy in 2017, Turkey has executed a paradigm shift in its natural gas supply architecture, transitioning from a rigid, pipeline-dependent importer to a flexible, diversified regional energy actor. This transformation has been underpinned by a strategic diversification of import infrastructure from exclusive reliance on pipelines to an aggressive expansion of liquefied natural gas (LNG) regasification capacity.

A central pillar of this strategy has been the deployment of floating storage and regasification units (FSRUs), which have allowed Turkey to rapidly scale its daily entry capacity beyond peak winter demand levels. By 2025, the country’s regasification capacity had increased approximately fivefold to 150 million cubic meters (mcm), compared to pre-2016 levels of 37 mcm. This infrastructure redundancy is not merely a security buffer; it is a calculated commercial instrument designed to foster competition between incumbent pipeline suppliers—primarily Russia and Iran—and the global LNG market.

This enhanced flexibility has fundamentally altered Turkey’s negotiating position. State-owned operator BOTAŞ has successfully created a position to substitute Russian or Iranian molecules with flexible LNG sources based on more market-based pricing mechanisms instead of long-term oil-indexed prices. The historical reliance on oil-indexed pricing is being systematically dismantled in favor of hybrid formulas (blending Dutch TTF, oil indexation, and, more recently, Henry Hub-indexed contracts with US majors).

Furthermore, this diversification strategy and the rationale for it have transcended domestic security of supply, evolving into a commercial offensive aimed at Southeastern Europe. Through the commissioning of the Saros FSRU and the expansion of the Silivri underground storage facility, Turkey has physically integrated its national gas grid with the Balkan markets, enabling gas exports to Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, and Moldova. Combined with the phased development of the Sakarya gas field in the Black Sea, which creates a domestic production field projected to meet significant domestic demand by 2028, Turkey is effectively repositioning itself from a transit corridor to a pivotal gas trading hub at the intersection of European and Asian markets.

This report provides an exhaustive analysis of the execution of this strategy from 2016 to 2025. It examines the granular details of infrastructure investments, the commercial restructuring of the contract portfolio, the technical and economic development of the Sakarya gas field, and the geopolitical implications of Turkey’s emergence as a gas exporter to Europe.

1. Introduction: The strategic imperative for diversification

The structural transformation of the Turkish natural gas market over the last decade is rooted in a response to the geopolitical and commercial vulnerabilities that characterized the country’s energy landscape in the early twenty-first century. Historically, Turkey imported nearly 99 percent of its natural gas, with the vast majority being delivered via long-distance pipelines from Russia (Blue Stream, Trans-Balkan, and, later, TurkStream), Iran (Tabriz-Ankara), and Azerbaijan (Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum).

These supplies were governed by rigid long-term “take-or-pay” contracts, typically spanning twenty to twenty-five years. Pricing was predominantly indexed to high-sulfur fuel oil and gas oil prices, with a lag of six to nine months. This structure exposed the Turkish economy to two distinct risks.

  • Commercial exposure: During periods of elevated oil prices, gas import costs surged irrespective of underlying gas market fundamentals, placing pressure on the current account balance and BOTAŞ’s balance sheet.
  • Supply security: Reliance on technically volatile flows from Iran, which frequently suffered pressure drops during peak winter demand, and politically sensitive flows from Russia left the Turkish grid susceptible to supply shocks. Disputes between Russia and Ukraine (in 2006 and 2009) and recurring technical failures in the Iranian system almost every winter underscored the fragility of a pipeline-centric model.

Turkey’s strategic inflection point emerged in the 2016–2017 period. Facing expiring legacy contracts and a volatile geopolitical environment, the Ministry of Energy and Natural Resources initiated a doctrine of “localization and diversification.” The objective was threefold: to maximize the use of domestic resources (renewables and, later, Black Sea gas), diversify import sources to reduce dependence on any single supplier to below 50 percent, and invest in infrastructure that provides optionality (i.e. the physical ability to switch suppliers based on price and availability).

2. Infrastructure Investment: The expansion of regasification capacity (2016–2025)

The cornerstone of Turkey’s diversification strategy has been the rapid development of LNG entry capacity. Unlike pipelines, which take year to construct, are capital intensive and geopolitically complex, LNG terminals—particularly FSRUs—offer speed and flexibility. Between 2016 and 2025, Turkey transformed its coastal infrastructure to ensure that daily gasification capacity exceeds peak winter consumption, theoretically allowing the country to meet its entire annual gas demand via LNG if necessary. However, practically speaking, because peak demand is exceeding 300 mcm/day in the coldest days of the winter, LNG terminals can roughly cover half of the country’s total demand or act as last resort supplier for entire household demand in case of serious flows via pipelines.

2.1 Onshore terminal modernization

Marmara Ereğlisi LNG terminal (BOTAŞ)

Commissioned in 1994, the Marmara Ereğlisi terminal is the backbone of LNG supply for the high-consumption industrial zones of Thrace and Istanbul. Operational for decades, the terminal has seen continuous investment since 2016 to upgrade its send-out capacity and storage.

  • Operational capacity: in 2024, the terminal’s daily send-out capacity reached approximately 37 mcm.
  • Storage capacity: 255,000 cubic meters across three tanks.
  • Strategic role: located on the northern coast of the Sea of Marmara, it provides baseload stability to the region that accounts for the country’s highest industrial electricity and gas consumption.

Aliağa LNG terminal (private)

Located in Izmir, and operated by a private company.

  • Operational capacity: recent investments have pushed its daily send-out capacity to 40 mcm.
  • Storage capacity: high-capacity storage tanks totaling 280,000 cubic meters.
  • Strategic role: supplying the Aegean region’s gas-fired power plants and industrial zones.

2.2 The strategic pivot to FSRUs

The most distinct shift in post-2016 policy was the adoption of FSRUs. These vessels provided a solution to land constraints and permitting delays, allowing Turkey to bring new capacity online in record time.

Etki Liman FSRU (private)

Commissioned in December 2016 in Aliağa, Izmir, Etki Liman was Turkey’s first FSRU project, and which demonstrated the viability of the technology.

  • Capacity: daily send-out capacity of 28 mcm.
  • Significance: its rapid deployment immediately following the 2015–2016 geopolitical tensions with Russia was a signal of Turkey’s intent to diversify rapidly.

Ertuğrul Gazi FSRU (BOTAŞ)

In a move toward asset ownership rather than leasing, BOTAŞ commissioned the Ertuğrul Gazi in 2021. Stationed at the Dörtyol terminal in Hatay, near the Syrian border, this vessel is critical for the energy security of southern and southeastern Anatolia.

  • Investment: constructed by Hyundai Heavy Industries in South Korea for an estimated cost of $225 million.
  • Storage capacity: 170,000 cubic meters and a daily regasification capacity of 28 mcm.
  • Strategic role: by injecting gas into the southern transmission lines, the Ertuğrul Gazi mitigates the risks associated with the erratic flow of the Iran-Turkey pipeline, which historically suffers from pressure drops during winter. It also supplies heavy industry in the Iskenderun Bay area.

Saros FSRU (BOTAŞ)

Operational since early 2023, the Saros FSRU located in the Gulf of Saros (in the northwest Aegean Sea) is the most geostrategically significant addition to the fleet.

  • Location: its position allows gas to be injected into the Thrace region without the navigational constraints of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus Straits or the need to traverse the entire Turkish grid from east to west.
  • Capacity: daily send-out capacity of 28 mcm.
  • Export enabler: Crucially, the Saros terminal is located near the interconnection points with the Greek and Bulgarian grids. This proximity makes it the physical cornerstone of Turkey’s gas export deals to the Balkans. It allows LNG cargoes arriving from the United States or other exporters to be regasified and piped directly into the Trans-Balkan Pipeline (in reverse flow) or the interconnector with Bulgaria.

Future fleet expansion

Looking toward 2035, the Ministry of Energy has articulated plans to expand the FSRU fleet to five active units. This expansion strategy includes a novel operational concept: deploying FSRUs abroad. Negotiations have been reported regarding the deployment of a Turkish FSRU to Egypt or Morocco to manage seasonal demand imbalances, effectively positioning BOTAŞ as a regional infrastructure service provider.

2.3 Underground storage as a balancing mechanism

Complementing the LNG intake is the expansion of underground storage (UGS), which is essential for managing the seasonality of supply and demand balances and storing gas during periods of low spot prices (summer) for use during peak demand (winter).

  • Silivri UGS: expanded to a capacity of 4.6 billion cubic meters (bcm) with a daily withdrawal capacity of 75 mcm.
  • Tuz Gölü (Salt Lake) UGS: currently undergoing expansion to reach 5.4 bcm by 2028, with a withdrawal capacity of 40 mcm per day.

Combined impact: by 2028, Turkey aims to have storage capacity equivalent to 20 percent of its annual consumption, aligning with European Union benchmarks for supply security.

3. Domestic production: The Sakarya gas field investment

While LNG provided import flexibility, the discovery of the Sakarya gas field in the western Black Sea in 2020 fundamentally altered Turkey’s long-term energy balance. With reserves initially estimated at 540 bcm and revised upward to 710 bcm following further appraisals (including the Çaycuma-1 discovery), this field represents the largest industrial project in the country’s history.

3.1 Technical development and phases

The development of the Sakarya field is an ultra-deepwater project (at a depth of more than 2,000 meters), requiring cutting-edge engineering and massive capital investment.

  • Phase 1 (operational)
    • Status: the first gas was delivered to the Filyos Natural Gas Processing Facility in April 2023.Investment: phase 1 involved the drilling of ten wells and the construction of subsea production systems and a 170-kilometer (km) pipeline to shore. The initial production plateau was set at 10 mcm per day (approximately 3.5 bcm per year (bcm/y)).
    • Current output: as of 2024–2025, daily production has ramped up to approximately 7–9.5 mcm per day.
  • Phase 2 (under construction)
    • Scope: this phase targets the drilling of approximately 26–30 additional wells.Contracting: A consortium including Saipem, SLB (Schlumberger), and Subsea7 was awarded the Engineering, Procurement, Construction and Installment (EPCI) contract for the second phase. Saipem’s share of the contract alone is valued at approximately $1.5 billion, covering the installation of 170 km of pipelines and subsurface systems.
    • Target: the objective is to raise production to 40 mcm per day (approximately 15 bcm/y) by 2028.
  • Floating production unit (FPU)
    • To process the increased volumes from the wider basin, Turkey has purchased an FPU from China. This vessel, expected to be operational by 2027–2028, will process raw gas offshore before transmission, functioning similarly to the Osman Gazi platform but on a larger scale.

3.2 Economic and strategic impact

  • Import substitution: At its plateau production of 15 bcm/y, the Sakarya field will cover approximately 25–30 percent of Turkey’s current domestic consumption. This will directly reduce the annual gas import bill by billions of dollars, improving the chronic current account deficit.
  • Contractual leverage: The certainty of 15 bcm of domestic gas, which is expected to reach plateau levels in 2028 from the Sakarya field, and with high probability, increase as exploration continues in other parts of the Black Sea, provides BOTAŞ with a “walk-away” option in negotiations. It forces suppliers such as Gazprom and NIOC to offer competitive pricing or risk losing market share permanently.

The development of the Sakarya field is an ultra-deepwater project (at a depth of more than 2,000 meters), requiring cutting-edge engineering and massive capital investment.

  • Phase 1 (operational)
    • Status: the first gas was delivered to the Filyos Natural Gas Processing Facility in April 2023.Investment: phase 1 involved the drilling of ten wells and the construction of subsea production systems and a 170-kilometer (km) pipeline to shore. The initial production plateau was set at 10 mcm per day (approximately 3.5 bcm per year (bcm/y)).
    • Current output: as of 2024–2025, daily production has ramped up to approximately 7–9.5 mcm per day.
  • Phase 2 (under construction)
    • Scope: this phase targets the drilling of approximately 26–30 additional wells. Contracting: A consortium including Saipem, SLB (Schlumberger), and Subsea7 was awarded the Engineering, Procurement, Construction and Installation (EPCI) contract for the second phase. Saipem’s share of the contract alone is valued at approximately $1.5 billion, covering the installation of 170 km of pipelines and subsurface systems.
    • Target: the objective is to raise production to 40 mcm per day (approximately 15 bcm/y) by 2028.
  • Floating production unit (FPU)
    • To process the increased volumes from the wider basin, Turkey has purchased an FPU from China. This vessel, expected to be operational by 2027–2028, will process raw gas offshore before transmission, functioning similarly to the Osman Gazi platform but on a larger scale.

4. Import dynamics: LNG vs. pipeline gas competition

The interplay between pipeline gas and LNG in the Turkish market is driven by contract expirations, relative price dynamics, and the strategic objective to minimize geopolitical risk.

4.1 Evolution of the import mix

Historically, pipeline gas accounted for 85–90 percent of Turkish imports. Since 2016, however, investments in LNG infrastructure have allowed LNG to capture significant market share. In 2024 and 2025, LNG imports periodically accounted for 25 percent of total demand, with spot LNG playing a crucial balancing role. The share of Russian gas in Turkey’s total supply has declined structurally, dropping from more than 50 percent in 2018 to less than 40 percent in 2025. This reduction is not accidental; it is the result of BOTAŞ declining to renew expiring pipeline contracts at full volumes, choosing instead to fill the gap with spot LNG and medium-term contracts.

4.2 The expiry wall and contract strategy

The period between 2021 and 2026 constitutes a “contract expiry wall” during which the majority of Turkey’s legacy long-term contracts (totaling more than 40 bcm) come up for renewal.

  • Russia (Gazprom): Contracts for the Blue Stream and the western route (transferred to TurkStream) faced expiration. In late 2024 and early 2025, BOTAŞ extended these contracts—but, crucially, only for one year. This broke the tradition of twenty-year lock-in contract structures, allowing Turkey to reassess market conditions annually.
  • Iran (NIOC): The long-term contract for 9.6 bcm/y expires in 2026. Negotiations are ongoing, but Turkey’s increased LNG capacity significantly weakens Iran’s bargaining power, which was previously bolstered by the lack of alternative supply routes to eastern Anatolia.

Thanks to LNG infrastructure, BOTAŞ has an upper hand in negotiations vis-à-vis Russia and Iran.

4.3 US LNG and the hedging strategy

The United States has emerged as a critical partner in Turkey’s diversification of gas supplies. In 2025, the United States became Turkey’s fourth-largest gas supplier, providing 5.5 bcm. Upstream investment: To manage the price volatility of US LNG (indexed to the Henry Hub benchmark), Turkey has announced plans to invest directly in US upstream assets. Turkish Petroleum (TPAO) is in talks with ExxonMobil and Chevron to acquire stakes in production fields. This acts as a physical hedge. If Henry Hub prices rise, the cost of LNG imports for BOTAŞ increases, but the revenue from TPAO’s US production assets also rises, neutralizing the fiscal impact on the Turkish state. This vertical integration strategy mimics the portfolio approach of global supermajors.

5. Commercial strategy: The new LNG portfolio and pricing

In 2024 and 2025, BOTAŞ executed an unprecedented wave of contracting, signing agreements totaling nearly 20 bcm/y of LNG supply. This portfolio is designed to be geographically diverse and commercially flexible.

5.1 Key LNG agreements (2024–2025)

The table below summarizes the major agreements signed or operationalized in this period, based on data from industry sources.

Supplier companyOrigin/portfolioAnnual quantity (bcm/y)DurationStart dateStrategic note
Oman LNGOman1.4Ten years2025Diversification away from the Atlantic basin
SonatrachAlgeria4.4Three years (renewed)2024Extension of a decades-long partnership
ExxonMobilUnited States/ portfolio3.8Ten years2027Henry Hub indexed and a foundational US deal
ShellUnited States/ portfolio4.0Ten years2027High volume and destination flexibility
TotalEnergiesPortfolio1.6Ten years2027Strengthens European commercial ties
SEFE–IGermany/portfolio0.6Three years2026Winter-weighted supply profile
SEFE–IIPortfolio0.6Ten years2028Winter-weighted supply profile
ENI–IPortfolio0.5Ten years2026Winter-weighted supply profile
ENI–IIPortfolio0.5Ten years2028Winter-weighted supply profile
WoodsidePortfolio0.65Nine years2030US deal, Winter-weighted supply profile
ChenierePortfolio1.2One year2026Winter-weighted supply profile
PetrochinaPortfolioCooperation agreementN/AN/AN/A
HartreePortfolio0.3Two years2026Winter-weighted supply profile
BPPortfolio1.6Three years2026Winter-weighted supply profile
JERAPortfolio0.6One year2026Winter-weighted supply profile
EquinorPortfolio0.50Three years2026Winter-weighted supply profile
MercuriaPortfolio4 (up to 70 bcm)Twenty years2026US deal, Winter-weighted supply profile

5.2 Evolution of pricing formulas

A critical element of these new contracts is a shift in pricing mechanisms.

  • Legacy model (oil Indexation): Historically, contracts with Gazprom and Iran were 100-percent indexed to Brent crude and oil products (often with the price movements averaged over the past 3-6-9 months. This meant gas prices remained high even when global gas hub prices crashed, penalizing the Turkish economy.
  • The hybrid transition: In contract renewals post-2021, particularly with Russia, Turkey successfully negotiated a shift to hybrid formulas. Current pipeline contracts often feature a split, such as 70 percent TTF (Dutch Title Transfer Facility) and 30-percent oil and linked. This links import costs more closely to the European spot market reality.
  • The Henry Hub advantage: The deal with ExxonMobil and other US suppliers introduces Henry Hub indexation. Historically, Henry Hub prices (US domestic gas) have been significantly lower and less volatile than European (TTF) or Asian (JKM) benchmarks. By securing volumes linked to Henry Hub, BOTAŞ gained exposure to the structurally lower cost of US gas production, creating a potential for price arbitrage relative to European market prices.

6. From importer to regional hub: The export strategy

Turkey’s infrastructure buildout has created a capacity surplus. With more than 50 bcm of LNG entry capacity, 15 bcm of domestic production, and existing pipeline capacity, the total supply potential exceeds domestic demand (approximately 50–55 bcm). BOTAŞ is capitalizing on this surplus by positioning Turkey as a gas trading hub for Eastern Europe.

6.1 The “Turkish blend” concept

Actively seeking to decouple from Russian energy—Turkey has advanced a concept it describes as a “Turkish blend.” Gas entering the national grid from Azerbaijan and the United States, along with other LNG suppliers such as Oman, Qatar, Nigeria, Algeria, Australia, and Egypt etc., is comingled with gas from the Sakarya field. When BOTAŞ exports gas to Bulgaria or Hungary, the molecules are legally and chemically indistinguishable. This allows BOTAŞ to supply certain European markets that do not want to buy Russian molecules either direct or indirectly. This role as an aggregator and blender is central to the hub strategy.

6.2 Key export agreements

Since 2023, BOTAŞ has signed a series of historic export deals, leveraging the Saros FSRU by regasifying LNG volumes coming from multiple sources and the Trans-Balkan Pipeline (now operating in reverse flow, from Turkey to Europe).

  • Bulgaria (Bulgargaz): A landmark thirteen-year agreement, signed in early 2023, grants Bulgargaz access to Turkish LNG terminals and the transmission grid, with a transfer volume of up to 1.5 bcm/y. This effectively breaks Gazprom’s monopoly on Bulgarian supply.
  • Hungary (MVM): A groundbreaking deal made Hungary the first non-bordering country for Turkish exports. The initial volume was 275 mcm, with plans for significant expansion.
  • Romania (OMV Petrom): An agreement to supply up to 4 mcm (approximately 1.5 bcm/y) via the Trans-Balkan Pipeline.
  • Moldova: A contract to supply 2 mcm per day to help the country reduce its critical dependence on Russian gas supplied via Ukraine.

6.3 Political and commercial motivations

  • Commercial: BOTAŞ is increasingly transforming from a national utility into a regional trader, capturing margins between its diversified import portfolio and European hub prices.
  • Political: By becoming one of the energy security enablers for southeastern NATO allies (Bulgaria, Romania, and Hungary), Ankara significantly enhances its diplomatic leverage within the Alliance. It creates a mutual dependency that acts as a buffer against political friction in other areas. The United States actively supports this role, viewing Turkish FSRUs as a vector to displace Russian dominance in the Balkans.

7. Conclusion: Commercial and political implications

The period from 2016 to 2025 marks a phase of consolidation and maturation in Turkey’s gas market. The country has successfully mitigated its primary strategic weakness—energy dependence—through a capital-intensive but high-yield strategy of infrastructure expansion and resource diversification.

Commercial benefits

  • Price arbitrage: access to gas indexed to multiple benchmarks including Henry Hub, TTF, and oil-indexed formulas allows BOTAŞ to manage its weighted average cost of gas (WACOG) more flexibly, shielding the domestic economy from single-market shocks.
  • Trading revenue: the utilization of surplus capacity for exports creates a new revenue stream in hard currency, which is essential for BOTAŞ’s financial sustainability.

Political benefits

  • Strategic autonomy: the ability to meet domestic demand without Russian pipelines (in a crisis scenario) removes the “energy weapon” from Russia’s diplomatic arsenal. Therefore LNG infrastructure and domestic gas production create important leverage.
  • Regional influence: Turkey has embedded itself as an indispensable node in the European energy security architecture. The Turkish hub is no longer an aspiration but a physical reality defined by steel pipes, floating terminals, and binding contracts.

By 2028, with the Sakarya field likely at full production and five FSRUs in operation, Turkey could cease to be merely a bridge for energy and become a center of price formation—a true hub where the dynamics of Asian, European, and Middle Eastern gas markets intersect.

About the author

Eser Özdil is an energy fellow at the Atlantic Council Turkey Program & founder of Glocal Group Consulting, Investment & Trade. You can follow him on X at @eserozdil.

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One month in, can Honduras’ new president put the country on the path to lasting economic gains? https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/one-month-in-can-hondurass-new-president-put-the-country-on-the-path-to-lasting-economic-gains/ Fri, 27 Feb 2026 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=908344 President Nasry Asfura’s early reforms have signaled a focus on fiscal austerity and competitiveness, sending positive messages to investors and to President Donald Trump, who backed him during the campaign. Sustaining this momentum will require significant structural reforms.

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Bottom lines up front

  • President Nasry Asfura’s early reforms signal a focus on fiscal austerity and economic competitiveness, sending positive signals to the private sector and to President Donald Trump, who backed Asfura during the campaign.
  • The expansion of the Temporary Import Regime and steps to rejoin the World Bank’s International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes aim to strengthen the investment climate and support trade.
  • Lasting gains will require structural reforms in trade, investment, and energy, and securing promised deals with Washington and Taiwan, alongside reducing crime.

Asfura’s narrow win 

Nasry “Tito” Asfura was sworn in as Honduras’ president on January 27, following one of the country’s most contentious electoral cycles in years. The former mayor of Tegucigalpa won the November 2025 general election with 40.27 percent of the vote, a margin of less than 1 percentage point over Salvador Nasralla, the Liberal Party candidate.

Mirroring the pro-business approach that characterized his tenure as mayor of the country’s capital from 2014 to 2022, when he advanced 1,142 infrastructure projects, Asfura won with a platform emphasizing job creation and legal certainty for businesses. With about 60 percent of Hondurans living in poverty and more than 38 percent in extreme poverty, economic concerns were the main issue for voters. Against this backdrop, Asfura’s “Vamos a Estar Bien [We Are Going to Be OK]” campaign emphasized attracting national and international investment and reducing red tape for starting businesses, while also reforming social services and fighting corruption.

Endorsed by President Donald Trump in the final hours of the campaign, Asfura entered office with a commitment to strengthen cooperation with the United States on shared priorities, one of the pillars of his so-called “Five-Star Vision.” He also campaigned on broader shifts in foreign and commercial policy, including cutting ties with China, rebuilding relations with Taiwan, and strengthening engagement with Israel. In the days leading up to his inauguration, Asfura traveled to Washington to meet with Secretary of State Marco Rubio, as well as to Israel to engage with President Isaac Herzog and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

More broadly, the first month of Asfura’s presidency has signaled a sharp departure from his predecessor’s ideological orientation. While former President Xiomara Castro’s LIBRE party pursued a progressive social agenda, including alignment with left-leaning regional partners, Asfura’s National Party is more conservative. The changes in ideology and aligned partners will likely reshape the direction of domestic policy debates, whether concerning education, social spending, or health.

A congress tilted toward traditional parties 

In the November 2025 elections, Hondurans also elected all 128 members of the National Congress. In the new congress, Asfura’s National Party makes up the largest bloc with forty-nine seats, followed by the Liberal Party with forty-one and LIBRE with thirty-five. Smaller parties hold just three seats combined.

While no party holds an absolute majority of sixty-five seats, the National and Liberal Parties together control ninety, marking the legislature’s return to the more traditional two-party dynamic that dominated politics for decades prior to LIBRE’s 2021 victory. The legislature’s new makeup also marks a return to a more conservative agenda. The new configuration will generally allow the government to pass legislation without relying on LIBRE’s support, but negotiations between the National and Liberal Parties will still be essential. Tensions from the contested elections remain, with some legislators from the Liberal Party still demanding the verification of electoral results by independent or international entities. Differences over policy priorities and these lingering disputes could complicate efforts to move proposals forward. After such a contested election, translating campaign promises on the economy and social progress into tangible outcomes will be key for consolidating trust.

Early actions in office 

Asfura’s governing style became visible within his first hours in office. He was sworn in during an austere ceremony, with no international guests in attendance. In his inaugural address, he framed his presidency’s focus on fiscal efficiency by reducing the size of the state and highlighted infrastructure, education, and health as priority areas. Reporting afterward noted that the government plans to cut or merge twenty institutions to optimize resources. That framing carried into the president’s first policy actions. He closed the inauguration ceremony by signing three bills into law that reflected broader efforts to reallocate public resources and prioritize economic activity. These included authorizing the sale of the presidential plane, broadening the presence of the National Autonomous University by opening new campuses in eight additional national departments, and expanding the Temporary Import Regime. Through this last measure, 125 additional companies will benefit from the duty-free import of inputs used for export-oriented production. The government argued this will lower costs for exporters, improve national competitiveness, and generate approximately forty-seven thousand additional jobs. 

One day into the role, Asfura moved on health priorities, requesting that congress declare a national emergency to tackle surgical backlogs, which currently affect more than ten thousand patients, and to ensure the adequate supply and distribution of medicine.

On the international front, the administration initiated Honduras’ return to the World Bank’s International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID), reversing the previous government’s 2024 withdrawal. This earlier decision came after investors in the Prospera special economic zone filed arbitration claims against the government following the National Congress’s 2022 attempt to repeal the 2013 Zones of Economic, Development, and Employment (ZEDE) law, which underpinned Prospera’s legal and operational framework. Castro’s move last year to withdraw from ICSID contributed to heightened investor concerns about legal certainty and access to dispute resolution mechanisms for companies operating in Honduras. Rejoining ICSID signals renewed adherence to international norms, an important first step toward attracting foreign capital and creating jobs.

Asfura’s early February meeting with Trump was another concrete step in advancing his foreign policy priorities. The Mar-a-Lago meeting reportedly focused on trade, investment, and security. In line with these priorities, Asfura has announced plans to pursue reciprocal trade negotiations with the United States to strengthen economic ties and attract investment. But the context has since shifted, with Trump now imposing global tariffs under Section 122 of the Trade Act of 1974 rather than under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act (IEEPA). The new legal justification could shift the objective of these engagements. Asfura is also one of a select few Latin American heads of state who will participate in the March 7 regional summit convened by Trump in Miami.

Opportunities ahead: How to turn early reforms into lasting gains 

Asfura’s first reforms have sent positive signals to different stakeholders, including local and international investors and the US administration. The follow-through work will now be critical. To deliver on campaign promises and achieve results, Asfura needs to consider structural reforms on trade, investment, and energy, leveraging Honduras’ early engagement with the Trump administration and the possibility of renewed ties with Taiwan.

1. Shape the economic agenda with the United States beyond tariffs

The United States is Honduras’ largest trading partner, accounting for roughly 37 percent of its total trade. With the Supreme Court’s IEEPA ruling, Honduran exports to the United States—primarily textiles, coffee, and agricultural products—will continue to benefit from preferential access under the Dominican Republic-Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA-DR). As Washington continues to advance and sign reciprocal trade frameworks with partners across the region, Honduras could have an opportunity to reframe the bilateral US trade agenda beyond tariffs, focusing more on customs and trade facilitation, as well as long-standing labor concerns. Locking in a reciprocal trade deal would help Honduras address investment fundamentals and better weather US domestic trade volatility.

Asfura and US Trade Representative (USTR) Jamieson Greer already met and announced their intent to “launch negotiations as soon as possible.” The Asfura administration should expect Greer to seek commitments in areas that the United States has previously identified as constraints on US economic engagement, including the following:

  • Reducing trade barriers: Since February 2023, exporters of US poultry products and rice (and onions starting in 2024) must complete an annual registration process andapply for import permits for each shipment. The process requires engaging with multiple Honduran government agencies and navigating numerous administrative steps, which can increase costs and delay shipments. These guidelines were introduced without advance notification or a phase-in period. Reducing duplication and clarifying procedures will be key to opening opportunities for US exporters.  
  • Improving labor standards and oversight: According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, Honduras made moderate progress in strengthening labor laws, especially those regarding child labor, in 2024 and 2025. Progress will likely remain slow because the relevant Honduran agencies lack both financial and human resources to effectively carry out their mandates, but it is important that the government continues advancing reforms. Demonstrating progress on freedom of association and collective bargaining, and guaranteeing acceptable working conditions and wages in priority sectors, will be important goalposts.
  • Intellectual property (IP) enforcement: Honduras must reinforce the implementation of IP laws under CAFTA-DR, addressing concerns about the lack of border enforcement regarding the sale of counterfeit goods, online piracy, and cable signal piracy. Alignment and modernization of IP laws has issue in the new White House’s reciprocal trade frameworks with several partners in Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC).

With these priorities in mind, the government should start consultations with local private-sector actors and coordinate across relevant ministries to define commitments and ensure their timely implementation.

2. Explore targeted investment and trade deals with Taiwan

Until 2023, Honduras and Taiwan maintained a free trade agreement that was particularly important for Honduras’ shrimp sector, a key component of the country’s aquaculture industry. In 2022, for example, shrimp exports to Taiwan alone generated more than $105 million, accounting for roughly 30 percent of Honduras’ total shrimp exports, which represented the country’s fifth-largest export sector at the time.

As part of its new economic engagement with China, which followed the diplomatic switch from Taiwan in March 2023, Honduras sought to expand shrimp exports through the early harvest agreement. Producers hoped that access to China’s 1.4 billion consumers would increase demand. However, of the 250 containers initially projected for export, China purchased only one in 2024. At the same time, the loss of preferential access to Taiwan and the imposition of a 20-percent tariff led to a significant decline in export volumes to the sector’s main market, which fell to $25 million that same year, down from $51.7 million in 2023 and $105 million in 2022. It is safe to say that Honduran trade with China has been underwhelming.

Producers attempted to mitigate these losses by tapping into alternative destinations, including the European Union and Mexico. These markets, however, could only take in much smaller volumes at lower prices. As a result, total shrimp exports were 67 percent lower by 2025 compared to pre-diplomatic switch levels. This downturn also forced more than sixty companies, including two processing plants, to close, resulting in the loss of about fourteen thousand jobs.

Restoring relations with Taiwan could offer Honduras a pathway to rebuild the sector. Taiwan has a track record of providing targeted assistance and investment to its diplomatic partners, including support for aquaculture sectors in Fiji, Grenada, and Belize.

For Honduras, potential areas of support from Taiwan could include:

  • aquaculture infrastructure, including processing facilities;
  • technical cooperation programs to improve production and supply chain efficiency; and
  • investment in complementary sectors such as transport logistics connecting key shrimp-producing departments, such as Choluteca and Valle, to major distribution hubs such as San Pedro Sula and Puerto Cortes, strengthening the sector’s competitiveness and export capacity.

Recently, Taiwanese business actors have expressed interest in restoring shrimp import levels to pre-2023 volumes. If Asfura moves forward with reestablishing relations with Taiwan, diplomatic engagements could be accompanied by trade missions that include representatives from the aquaculture sector. In parallel, consultations with producers and industry associations would help assess current production capacity and inform the design of a renewed trade framework supported by technical assistance and investment cooperation.

3. Reform the energy sector

During his Washington visit in late 2025, when he was still president-elect, Asfura emphasized the importance of attracting US capital into critical sectors such as energy. The cost and reliability of electricity are among the most significant constraints on Honduras’ investment climate. Energy reform should not be seen simply as a route to fiscal stabilization but as a key part of the country’s national competitiveness strategy.

The state-owned Empresa Nacional de Energía Eléctrica (ENEE) has been in financial and operational distress for years. As of early 2026, according to the new ENEE manager, ENEE carried an accumulated debt of more than $3 billion, including nearly $1 billion owed to private power generators. This high level of debt, combined with limited cash flow, has constrained the company’s ability to invest in critical improvements and maintenance of the energy sector.

Technical and non-technical losses in Honduras’ distribution system remain among the highest in Latin America, at roughly 40 percent. This means that more than one-third of generated electricity is either lost in transmission or goes unbilled. The country’s average industrial electricity tariff also ranks among the highest in Central America, directly undermining the competitiveness of its manufacturing and agro-industrial sectors.

To restore the sector’s stability, the government should work on a multi-layered strategy.

  • Restructure ENEE’s debt while laying the groundwork for future growth and reforms: While debt restructuring is essential for short-term stabilization, long-term credibility will depend on institutional reform. Honduras should engage with multilateral banks and financial institutions to secure short-term financing and alleviate cash flow constraints. Prioritize clearing arrears with private generators to restore confidence and normalize commercial relationships. In parallel, ENEE’s new leadership should advance a restructuring of ENEE’s cash flow through transparent and competitive procurement processes. This would help ensure that future power purchases are contracted under market-based conditions that improve cost efficiency, reduce structural deficits, and avoid the accumulation of new payment arrears.
  • Infrastructure investment for today: Upgrade generation and transmission systems to reduce losses and improve reliability. Public-private partnerships and international cooperation could support grid upgrades, including anti-theft measures such as automated meters. Other targeted projects, similar to the Inter-American Development Bank’s Remote Area Rural Electrification Program, could support efforts to ensure adequate supply in remote areas through mini-grids and solar systems. Investments in infrastructure will also be key if the country wants to attract data centers.
  • Operational and governance reforms: To ensure reliable service and timely payments to generators, Honduras should strengthen billing and collection systems, enforce the legal framework to address non-payment and arrears, and improve ENEE’s operational capacity. In parallel, it should update existing laws to ensure the country’s regulatory framework is aligned with open and competitive market principles. Doing so would also strengthen energy-sector public institutions, provide legal certainty to investors, and establish predictable regulation that sends credible signals for long-term investment, while enabling lower electricity prices and security of supply. 
     

4. Address crime to improve investor confidence 

Honduras’ security environment remains a real, tangible constraint on investment, as noted by the 2024 update to the country guide published by the US Department of Commerce’s International Trade Administration. While homicide rates have declined from their peak earlier in the decade, the country still faces elevated levels of extortion, gang-related violence, and organized crime—all of which increase operating costs and deter both domestic and foreign investors. A 2022 World Bank “Country Private Sector Diagnostic” report also highlighted crime and insecurity as top obstacles for firms operating in Honduras. 

Asfura has signaled a tough-on-crime posture, but the approach must go beyond policing. International experience suggests that sustained reductions in crime require institutional reform in the justice system, professionalization of security forces, and investment in violence prevention programs. For investors, predictability matters as much as headline security gains: clear and enforceable property rights, transparent permitting, and judicial processes that function without corruption are all part of the security equation. 

The Honduran government should work with the United States to ensure that cooperation frameworks address both traditional security threats and the governance deficiencies that enable corruption and impunity. Strengthening the attorney general’s office and supporting anti-corruption institutions would reinforce the legal certainty message that Asfura’s early economic moves have tried to communicate.

Conclusion

Asfura has moved quickly to set the tone for four years in office. The early steps on fiscal discipline, trade openness, and alignment with Washington respond directly to Honduras’ most pressing economic realities. The expansion of the Temporary Import Regime, the move to rejoin ICSID, and the outreach to the Trump administration on trade, security, and broader cooperation are all positive signs. Turning these initial moves into lasting results will require technically sound reforms, particularly after a contested election. With favorable congressional alignment, international partners ready to engage, and a population eager for economic improvement, the administration has an opportunity to strengthen Honduras’ investment climate, support broader economic growth, and consolidate the country’s position as a reliable partner for Washington in the years ahead.

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Memo to…

Nov 24, 2025

Memo to the Secretary of State: In the upcoming Honduran elections, democracy and US interests are at stake

By María Fernanda Bozmoski, Isabella Palacios, Jason Marczak

The upcoming general election in Honduras demands international attention—both because of the potential instability it could trigger and its implications for US economic interests.

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The Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center broadens understanding of regional transformations and delivers constructive, results-oriented solutions to inform how the public and private sectors can advance hemispheric prosperity.

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The state of great power competition in the Gulf https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/the-state-of-great-power-competition-in-the-gulf/ Thu, 26 Feb 2026 21:30:20 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=907703 This issue brief examines Gulf states' strategic positioning amid shifting global power dynamics, the opportunities and challenges of great power competition, and regional efforts toward de-escalation and development.

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The Gulf region is at a pivotal moment as global power dynamics shift from unipolarity to a decentered system of regional powers. While the United States remains the only true global superpower, China and Russia are regional powers with limited global influence. This creates a unique opportunity for Gulf leaders to shape their own political, economic, and security agendas, prioritizing stability and development.

The states of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) are leveraging interest-based partnerships, maintaining strategic ties with China and Russia while deepening defense and economic relationships with the United States. Recent agreements, such as the 2023 US-Bahrain Comprehensive Security Integration and Prosperity Agreement, highlight the Gulf’s preference for the predictability of a rules-based international order. Despite their illiberal domestic systems, GCC leaders value the stability and market access provided by Western-led governance.

De-escalation remains a key priority for the Gulf, as demonstrated by initiatives like Saudi Vision 2030, the Abraham Accords, and the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC). However, regional tensions since October 2023 have disrupted progress, emphasizing the need for external powers to support Gulf stability and development agendas. While the United States is seen as an essential partner, there is growing potential for deeper Gulf-European collaboration.

This moment of transition in the global order presents both challenges and opportunities for Gulf leaders, who are shaping their region’s future amidst great-power competition.

This issue brief is the result of a collaboration between the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Middle East Security Initiative and the Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung Regional Programme Gulf States, which set the stage for a series of Track II discussions in Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia on the state of play of great power competition in the Gulf with regional, US, and European experts and policymakers.

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Standardizing carbon accounting worldwide with a single, robust, cost-effective system https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/standardizing-carbon-accounting-worldwide-with-a-single-robust-cost-effective-system/ Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:25:51 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=907959 Carbon accounting has the potential to accelerate decarbonization, improve energy resilience, and strengthen economic security. But first, countries must decide on a robust, standardized system.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Developed economies aren’t just underinvesting in the climate transition—they are missing the mark by an order of magnitude. Because green financing is often characterized as underperforming, the capital they do deploy rarely reaches the projects or regions where it’s needed most.
  • But decarbonization doesn’t have to be a synonym for “high risk.” The key to unlocking high-impact, high-return investment lies in better risk management. Measuring a project’s carbon footprint with greater accuracy will mitigate the guesswork that keeps capital on the sidelines.
  • The authors advocate for the Climate Club, an intergovernmental decarbonization forum, to select a single, robust, and cost-effective method for computing products’ carbon footprint. The framework would provide the rigor required to significantly scale climate finance and drive energy security.

Carbon accounting has gained traction in recent years as the mechanism through which companies and countries can unlock competitive forces to drive innovation in decarbonization and energy availability. However, most emissions tracking today still occurs through a patchwork of carbon disclosure systems rather than through a true accounting framework. 

The limitations of today’s carbon disclosure systems are increasingly consequential as governments adopt trade and procurement policies that require accurate emissions data. For example, emerging carbon border tariff policies, such as the European Union’s mandatory Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) that is aimed at encouraging trade in low-emissions products, require that each transaction be linked to a specific emissions footprint. Yet existing disclosure systems cannot consistently provide such granular and comparable information across borders or complex supply chains. To implement the tariffs, jurisdictions have resorted to simplified, partial accounting methods that cover only a narrow set of upstream, easy-to-measure products while excluding many downstream goods. This workaround, in turn, can create inadvertent deindustrializing effects and adds confusion and unnecessary compliance costs in the economy.

Market and policy developments suggest that there is an urgent need for a single, comprehensive, robust, and cost-effective carbon accounting system worldwide: one that identifies low-emissions production across all products and services and across all jurisdictions and consistently over time.

This issue brief proposes a concrete and achievable first step toward such a global carbon accounting system: for a group of proactive member countries in the intergovernmental Climate Club to launch a call for tender to select a single, robust, and cost-effective method for computing the carbon footprint of all products (and, by extension, companies) worldwide.

A common, trusted carbon accounting system would unlock several critical levers in the race to drive decarbonization while meeting global energy demand. It would enable finance to flow more efficiently toward high-impact, high-return decarbonization investments, allow governments to steer foreign trade and public procurement toward lower-emissions options, and support credible carbon labeling for customers seeking “greener” purchasing options.

Together, these mechanisms would accelerate decarbonization while strengthening economic security, energy resilience, and international competitiveness.

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about the authors

Vincent Aussilloux is an economist at the European Commission’s Directorate General for Trade. Just prior to his current position, he served as special adviser to the general commissioner of France Stratégie, a public think tank responsible for anticipating major challenges for the country, evaluating public policies, and informing and improving the quality of public debate. He served as the director of its economics department between 2014 and 2023. Aussilloux was also general rapporteur for the French National Productivity Council, a member of the cabinet of two ministers, and served in the Office of the Secretary of State for Foreign Trade and the Directorate General of the Treasury in France. He holds a doctorate in economics from the University of Montpellier.  

Yann Coatanlem is an economist and the president of Club Praxis, a multidisciplinary think tank that promotes the use of big data in policymaking, in particular in revamping the tax and welfare system. His work has won multiple awards, including the special prize of the political economy, statistics, and finance section of the Académie des sciences morales et politiques. He spent most of his research career at Citigroup as managing director and head of multiasset quantitative analysis. He is also a co-founder of GlassView—the inventors of Neuro-Powered MediaTM—and a member of the board of the Paris School of Economics. He co-authored Capitalism against Inequalities, with a postface from Nobel laureate Philippe Aghion, and was awarded the Prix Turgot and the Prix Louis Marin. He graduated from the École nationale supérieure d’informatique et de mathématiques appliquées and the École des hautes études commerciales de Paris. He is a recipient of the French National Order of Merit, the Gold Medal of La Renaissance Française, and the Médaille d’honneur des Conseillers du commerce extérieur. 

Karthik Ramanna is a professor of business and public policy at the University of Oxford’s Blavatnik School of Government and a fellow at St John’s College. He teaches at the Blavatnik School on managing organizations in polarized times, which led to his 2024 book, The Age of Outrage. He also serves as principal investigator and co-founder of the E-ledgers Institute, a nonprofit organization advancing rigorous greenhouse gas accounting practices. From 2023 to 2025, Ramanna was on partial public-service leave from Oxford to advise the US Public Company Accounting Oversight Board, an “auditor of auditors” in global markets. From 2016 to 2023, he was director of the school’s master of public policy program. Ramanna has also taught at the Harvard Business School in both the MBA and senior executive-education programs. His scholarship has won numerous awards, including the Journal of Accounting and Economics Best Paper Prize, the Harvard Business ReviewMcKinsey Award for “groundbreaking management thinking,” and the international Case Centre’s prizes for “outstanding case-writing.” He has a doctorate from MIT’s Sloan School of Management.  

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When growth outpaces accountability: Political volatility in the Philippines https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/when-growth-outpaces-accountability-political-volatility-in-the-philippines/ Mon, 23 Feb 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=906238 Economic growth in the Philippines has largely taken place in the absence of sustained political stability. Political rights and accountability swing sharply with changes in leadership. The task ahead is to ensure that economic progress deepens democratic accountability.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Changes in the style and incentives of individual presidents, rather than changes in formal rules, generate large swings in civil liberties and political rights.
  • Economic growth has expanded opportunity and resilience, but it has not consistently translated into predictable public services or stable protections of rights.
  • Improvements in the information environment allow elections to function more effectively as tools of selection and discipline, even in a system with weak parties and personalized coalitions.

This is the seventh chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

The institutional development of the Philippines since the mid-1990s is characterized less by steady consolidation than by sharp swings in the quality of governance and rights. With almost every change in administration, the political climate shifts markedly, producing alternations between more liberal and more illiberal periods rather than a clear linear trend. This volatility is most pronounced in the sphere of politics, while legal and economic institutions tend to evolve more gradually over time. In a very literal sense, the effective scope of rights and freedoms in the Philippines has depended heavily on who happens to be president—a predictable consequence of a highly presidential system, modeled on that of the United States but operating in a context of weak parties and strong political families.

The Freedom Index captures these dynamics well, especially on the political front. In interpreting these patterns, it is important to keep in mind that several components rely on perception-based measures, so the resulting swings can sometimes amplify short-term, highly visible changes relative to slower-moving institutional features. In such a system, shifts in leadership style and rhetoric can rapidly alter perceptions of freedom even when formal rules and organizations remain largely intact.

The basic constitutional architecture has been remarkably stable since the mid-1990s. Elections are held regularly and, since the late 2000s, are administered with reasonably professional procedures and electronic counting. The dramatic swings in the political subindex therefore do not reflect repeated constitutional breakdowns. Instead, it captures how individual leaders use the leeway that this system gives them. In a system designed to concentrate power in the presidency, changes in the character and incentives of presidents—particularly the alternation between more populist or illiberal leaders and more conventional, institutionally minded ones—rather than changes in the formal rules, generate large movements in civil liberties and political rights. If one imagines a sequence of such contrasting presidencies, the resulting time series would look very much like the Philippine political subindex.

To understand why leadership matters so much in the Philippines, it is essential to understand how political power is organized below the level of formal institutions, particularly the central role of families in politics. Political parties exist, but they function less as programmatic organizations than as loose coalitions of clans. My own research shows that political power is deeply embedded in family networks formed through marriage and kinship. Politicians are disproportionately drawn from families that occupy central positions in these networks, and these family ties provide a crucial advantage in coordinating electoral alliances and sustaining clientelistic exchange. Because these alliances are personal rather than institutional, they must be continually renegotiated. While some dynastic ties persist across generations, much of the surrounding coalition is recomposed each electoral cycle, and once the incentives that hold it together weaken, it can unravel quickly. The public rupture between President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. and his former ally, Sara Duterte, is an extreme but revealing illustration of how personal these arrangements are and how little institutional discipline constrains politicians. As a result, leadership changes can produce sharp shifts in how power is exercised, even when the formal rules of the system remain unchanged.

Leadership changes can produce sharp shifts in how power is exercised, even when the formal rules of the system remain unchanged

This family‑based, coalition‑driven politics also helps explain why the Philippines can run elections that are, on paper, reasonably well administered yet still struggle with deep problems of clientelism and accountability. Since the introduction of electronic vote counting around 2010, classic forms of fraud such as ballot‑box stuffing have become much harder. The electoral commission and related institutions are increasingly able to do their jobs without formal interference, and the basic procedures of voting and counting are broadly respected. At the same time, competition within and between dynasties still centers around contingent exchange of jobs, money, and other private benefits. Vote buying is common, and access to public resources is tightly mediated by local brokers, barangay captains, and family heads. This clientelistic equilibrium does not necessarily reduce the formal quality of electoral administration, but it does limit the extent to which elections translate into programmatic policy or consistent protection of rights.

The most visible break in the political series occurs with the election of Rodrigo Duterte as president in 2016. The political subindex shows a sharp drop in the components measuring civil liberties, political rights, and legislative constraints on the executive—a pattern well documented in both journalistic accounts and academic research on the period. Duterte’s “war on drugs” involved large‑scale extrajudicial killings, often carried out by police or quasi‑official actors, and a deliberate strategy of targeting opponents and critics. Media outlets and individual journalists faced harassment, legal cases, and in some instances the withdrawal of broadcast licenses. These pressures are reflected in international press‑freedom assessments: In 2024, Reporters Without Borders ranked the Philippines 134th out of 180 countries in its World Press Freedom Index. At the same time, the Duterte presidency also illustrates how different aspects of the system can move in opposite directions. The election that brought him to power was broadly competitive and credibly run, and the electoral machinery continued to function, so the main tools at his disposal were repression and intimidation rather than the outright manipulation of elections that historically plagued Philippine politics.

The role of institutional checks and balances under these conditions is subtle. Congress in the Philippines does have real power, but in practice it is fragmented and undisciplined, because legislators are themselves embedded in family-based networks and can shift party allegiance easily. They can make and unmake presidents, but they rarely act as a coherent counterweight. The courts, by contrast, are relatively strong. The legal profession is well-trained; the bar system and judicial hierarchy closely follow US models in emphasizing judicial independence. This means that even during periods of political turmoil, formal judicial independence and the clarity of the law remain comparatively robust.

In this context, the decline in the judicial-independence component of the legal subindex around 2016 may partly reflect a misalignment between perception-based indicators and slower-moving institutional realities. Perception-based indicators understandably penalize a judiciary that failed to stop abuses like the drug war, but the core problem in the Philippines was not wholesale judicial capture or corruption. Rather, it was an aggressive president willing to push far beyond legal boundaries in a setting where courts lacked the capacity, speed, and enforcement power to impose meaningful constraints. While the judiciary undoubtedly failed to hold the executive to account, it remained formally independent. This distinction matters: judicial weakness can produce outcomes similar to capture in the short run, but it has very different implications for institutional resilience and the prospects for recovery over time.

An often-overlooked actor in this story is the military. The Philippine armed forces are modeled on the US military and, over time, have become increasingly professionalized and institutionalized. Since the end of the Marcos era, reforms emphasizing civilian supremacy, professional norms, and a clear chain of command have gradually reduced the military’s direct involvement in partisan politics. While the armed forces are not entirely insulated from political pressures, they are far more rule-bound and organizationally coherent than many civilian institutions in the country. It is telling that the military did not play a central operational role in the campaign of killings in Duterte’s drug war, which was instead carried out primarily by the police. This absence matters: It points to limits on the extent to which military power can be readily redirected for personal or partisan purposes, even under an aggressive and illiberal presidency. More broadly, the presence of a professional and institutionalized armed force helps explain why the Philippines can experience sharp swings in its political environment without the coups and sustained civil unrest that characterized the immediate post-Marcos era. In this sense, the military serves as one of several institutions that help the political system absorb even substantial shifts in leadership without collapsing.

The level of corruption in the Philippines appears anomalous when compared to its East and Southeast Asian neighbors, but this divergence is partly a function of the comparison itself. A more appropriate comparison set may be Latin America, given shared features of colonial history, legal traditions, and prolonged US influence on political and administrative institutions. Relative to Latin American countries, the Philippines looks far less exceptional, both in the overall prevalence of corruption and in the way it is organized. As in much of Latin America, corruption in the Philippines is highly personalized and fragmented rather than centralized and predictable. Securing favors or contracts often requires identifying the appropriate political or bureaucratic patron—sometimes a close associate or relative of a top public official—and repeatedly renegotiating terms as coalitions shift. Corruption is never desirable, but this particular structure makes it especially damaging: Instead of functioning as a single, if distortionary, informal tax, it generates pervasive uncertainty and forces firms and citizens to continually reinvest in relationships. This pattern of “inefficient corruption” is closely tied to family-based politics and helps explain why the Philippines has not converged toward the more rule-bound governance models observed elsewhere in East and Southeast Asia.

Informality shows a similar pattern. The Philippines diverges sharply from the East Asia and Pacific average, where informality has declined steadily since the early 2000s, but it aligns much more closely with Latin American trajectories. Informal vendors, markets, and small-scale enterprises remain a defining feature of economic life, reflecting slower progress in building the digital and administrative infrastructure that supports formalization. Only in recent years has the country introduced a national ID and expanded digital finance in ways that could encourage movement into the formal sector, and these changes have not yet fully filtered into the data. Government efforts to promote formalization have been most visible and enforceable in resource-extraction sectors, while progress in formalizing the everyday informality of urban and rural livelihoods has been slower and more uneven.

The economic subindex shows a more familiar pattern for a middle-income, globally integrated economy. Trade and investment freedom have gradually increased since the 1990s, reflecting tariff reductions and openness to foreign capital. At the same time, the property-rights component moves in ways that are not entirely intuitive from a domestic perspective. There is an improvement around the turn of the millennium—likely linked to decentralization and associated legal reforms—and then a later decline that seems more related to changes in the business environment and international perceptions than to any dramatic shift in land rights or enforcement. In practice, because property-rights indicators also respond to legal predictability and enforcement across the economy and not only specific administrative systems like land titling, it is possible for the indicator to move substantially even if the practical challenges of land titling and cadastral fragmentation remain.

The women’s economic freedom component is another area where the legalistic basis of many international indicators underestimates the Philippine reality. Measures based on formal law place the country at the regional average and show gradual improvement, as new legislation on issues such as workplace discrimination is adopted. Yet in terms of everyday economic decision-making, household bargaining power, and attitudes toward female autonomy, the Philippines looks much more like a developed country. Consequently, measures like the World Bank’s Women, Business and the Law Index on which the Freedom Index relies—based on de jure rules—likely understate women’s actual economic freedom. Putting these pieces together, the evolution of freedom in the Philippines since 1995 is best understood as the interaction of three forces. First, a stable but highly presidential constitutional order creates room for large swings in de facto civil liberties and political rights whenever a new leader takes office. Second, a legal system and military that are relatively professional and institutionalized prevent those swings from turning into outright authoritarian breakdown or civil war. Third, a bureaucracy and political system organized around families and clientelism generate persistent problems with corruption and informality and limit the extent to which legal and economic freedoms are translated into predictable, broad-based access to the state. The Freedom Index captures these tensions: Moderate and sometimes improving scores for legal and economic freedom sit alongside sharp, presidency-driven shifts in the political subindex, most dramatically during the Duterte years and, looking ahead, potentially again under Marcos Jr.

From freedom to prosperity

The Prosperity Index for the Philippines tells a more optimistic and smoother story than the Freedom Index. Despite political volatility, overall prosperity has risen steadily since the mid-1990s, with only the COVID-19 shock producing a clear dip. Income has grown and inequality has fallen over the past decade and a half, comparing favorably with several regional peers. In addition, there have been gradual improvements in health, education, and environmental outcomes. At the same time, access for minorities has lagged, and the gains in prosperity remain shaped by the same family-based and clientelistic structures that organize politics.

The evolution of real gross domestic product per capita describes the country’s growth experience: modest but sustained expansion, punctuated by a deeper contraction than many of its peers during the pandemic and a subsequent recovery. The distinctive feature of the Philippine growth model over this period is that much of the engine lies outside the country’s borders. Millions of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) send remittances home, and these flows have grown dramatically. In many towns one can literally see remittances in the landscape: a cluster of simple houses and, in the middle, a large concrete home built with wages earned in Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia, or Italy. These external earnings have supported domestic consumption and smoothed shocks, helping to sustain the upward trend in income per capita even in the face of domestic political instability.

The COVID-19 period is an exception. Here the country suffered a sharper dip than experienced by many regional peers. The government struggled to translate expert advice into effective policy. Vaccine hesitancy was widespread, but unlike in some other countries, this skepticism had a rational basis: a major vaccine controversy in the years just before the COVID-19 pandemic had undermined trust, particularly in poorer communities. Combined with already low trust in government, this made it difficult to achieve high vaccination rates quickly. By contrast, some more authoritarian neighbors relied more heavily on mandates and enforcement, which reduced delays in vaccine rollout.

Just as income per capita reflects the scale of remittances, the inequality component captures their distributional consequences. The data show a relatively strong decline in inequality over the last decade and a half, and I think remittances are central to that story. The families who send workers abroad are not typically those at the very top of the income distribution; they are often lower-middle and working-class households who can finance migration through extended family networks. The jobs they obtain—construction, domestic work, caregiving—are not elite positions, but their wages are high relative to domestic opportunities. When these earnings flow back into sending communities, they raise living standards not only for migrants’ immediate families but, through informal sharing and lending, for neighbors and kin.

Growth driven by overseas workers is, almost by construction, growth from the bottom and middle, not primarily from capital owners or domestic elites.

Remittances in the Philippines likely have measurable spillover effects through social networks: Households linked to migrants are more likely to change their economic behavior and sometimes their political attitudes. This mechanism helps explain why inequality measures improve so markedly relative to other countries. Growth driven by overseas workers is, almost by construction, growth from the bottom and middle, not primarily from capital owners or domestic elites. It is also gendered: Many OFWs are women working as nurses, caregivers, and domestic workers, which reinforces the earlier point that female economic opportunities have expanded even more than legal indicators suggest.

The health component presents a more mixed picture. For its income level, the Philippines has an impressive pool of medical professionals. Filipino doctors and nurses are highly trained and in demand abroad. The constraint is not talent so much as the systems that support it at home: infrastructure and supplies are uneven, and service delivery remains fragmented across local governments. Many facilities lack sufficient resources; operating rooms may lack adequate equipment, and local clinics are often without basic supplies. Despite the significantly higher cost of living in countries like the United States, where expenses can be two to three times higher, income disparities remain a major driver of outmigration, especially for nurses. In Metro Manila, private hospitals pay nurses as little as ₱12,000 a month (about US$203), while those in public hospitals make around ₱35,000 (roughly US$595). In comparison, nurses in the United States earn on average about US$6,417 a month. Decentralization reforms in the late 1990s devolved frontline health provision to municipalities and provinces. This helped bring services closer to remote communities, but also fragmented responsibility and made it difficult to implement consistent national strategies or large-scale efficiency improvements. The COVID-19 pandemic exposed these weaknesses clearly, as local governments struggled with logistics, data management, and public messaging. These realities are only imperfectly captured by the index, which focuses on aggregate outcomes such as life expectancy and mortality, but they help explain why the health component improves only gradually and takes a noticeable hit during the pandemic.

Education follows a similar pattern. Enrollment has expanded and average years of schooling have risen, producing an overall positive trend. Nonetheless, the data show less of a pandemic-related decline than I would have expected. Schools were closed for extended periods, and remote learning was constrained by patchy internet access and limited digital infrastructure. One possibility is that standard indicators based on attainment or enrollment miss much of the learning loss that resulted. In fact, available evidence suggests the country is suffering from acute learning poverty. According to a 2023 report, the share of children under ten unable to read and understand a simple text jumped from 69.5 percent in 2019 to 91 percent in 2021. That makes the Philippines one of the worst-performing countries in East Asia and the Pacific in terms of foundational reading skills. As with health, formal access is easier to measure than quality, and the Prosperity Index, by design, may not fully capture what happens inside classrooms.

The environmental component shows a marked improvement over the past two decades, largely driven by rising access to clean cooking technologies. Around the year 2000, only about 40 percent of the population used relatively clean fuels and stoves; today that figure is closer to 60 percent, which represents a substantial gain in terms of indoor air quality and associated health outcomes. Nevertheless, environmental challenges remain substantial outside those gains. Mismanaged waste is one of the most serious issues. Improperly disposed garbage and plastic refuse pollute waterways, worsen flood risk, and endanger coastal ecosystems. The burden of this waste problem falls heavily on poorer and coastal communities, where sanitation services are often limited or absent. By contrast, other variables captured by the index, such as industrial emissions, have seen comparatively little movement, largely because the Philippines is not a heavy industrial polluter compared with some of its East and Southeast Asian neighbors, so the main environmental challenges are not massive factory emissions but more localized problems linked to energy use, waste management, and resource extraction. The Philippines does not have the sort of racial cleavages that structure politics in some other societies, and it is overwhelmingly Catholic. The meaningful lines of difference are instead linguistic, regional, and between indigenous and nonindigenous populations, as well as between Christians and Muslims in Mindanao. Indigenous communities start from a very vulnerable baseline and tend to fare poorly across a wide range of outcomes; they are hit harder by shocks, such as COVID-19, and benefit less from growth. Muslim populations in conflict-affected areas face their own forms of exclusion. At the same time, women and many linguistic minorities have seen their opportunities improve, particularly as migration and remittance economies open new pathways. My assessment is that these offsetting trends—for some groups moving sharply up, for others stagnating or moving down—are producing a flat or slightly declining aggregate minority component in the Prosperity Index that does not fully reflect the underlying complexity.

The path forward

Economic growth in the Philippines has largely taken place in the absence of sustained political stability. The challenge now is to create conditions in which growth and political accountability reinforce one another, rather than evolve on separate tracks. Over the past three decades, the country has achieved steady gains in income, health, and education, even as its political environment has remained volatile. Living standards have improved for many households, supported by migration, remittances, and gradual human development gains, yet political rights and accountability continue to swing sharply with changes in leadership. This gap between rising prosperity and uneven freedom defines the task ahead: ensuring that economic progress deepens democratic accountability rather than reinforcing personalized and clientelistic politics.

Closing the gap between prosperity and freedom will require not only stronger institutions, but changes in how political accountability operates on the ground.

A realistic path forward must therefore address both sides of this equation. Economic gains have expanded opportunity and resilience, but they have not consistently translated into predictable public services or stable protections of rights. Weak parties, personalized coalitions, and uneven bureaucratic capacity mean that improvements in welfare often flow through private networks rather than public systems. As a result, elections remain competitive, yet leadership changes can still produce large swings in governance outcomes. Closing the gap between prosperity and freedom will require not only stronger institutions, but changes in how political accountability operates on the ground.

A promising source of optimism lies with voters themselves. Our research during the 2016 and 2019 elections shows that citizens are not irreversibly locked into clientelistic modes of politics. Instead, how voters evaluate candidates is highly responsive to the information environment in which electoral choices are made—an especially important dynamic in a system with weak parties and personalized coalitions.

Using field experiments across multiple election cycles, my research shows that providing voters with clear, credible information about candidates’ policy positions and commitments can meaningfully change the basis of electoral choice. Better-informed voters are more likely to support candidates whose policy positions align with their own preferences and less likely to rely on clientelistic considerations such as gifts, favors, or personal ties. While these interventions do not dismantle family-based politics, they weaken its grip at the margin by shifting how candidates are evaluated.

Those marginal shifts matter. When voters reward policy alignment and performance—even imperfectly—they alter the incentives political elites face. This creates a pathway for strengthening democratic accountability without requiring rapid party institutionalization or the dismantling of entrenched family networks. In contexts like the Philippines, where parties are fluid and coalitions are personalized, information allows elections to function more effectively as tools of selection and discipline.

Information, of course, is not a substitute for institutions. Courts, professional bureaucracies, and an increasingly institutionalized military remain essential for preventing political volatility from turning into outright breakdown. But informed voters can complement these constraints by shaping incentives before leaders take office. When candidates expect voters to reward policy alignment and performance, the space for arbitrary or illiberal governance narrows.

In practice, making this mechanism effective requires concrete investments in the information environment. These need not be sweeping or expensive. Standardized disclosure of candidate positions and policy commitments, voter guides that compare candidates on salient local issues, and the dissemination of credible information through trusted intermediaries—such as civil society organizations, local media, schools, and religious institutions—can all improve how voters evaluate their choices. Importantly, information is most powerful when delivered early, before clientelistic exchanges dominate electoral campaigns.

Economic development can reinforce this process. Rising education levels, expanding digital access, and broader media reach increase voters’ capacity to process and act on political information. But without deliberate efforts to improve the quality and credibility of that information, prosperity risks reinforcing clientelism by expanding the resources available for private exchange rather than strengthening public accountability.

At the same time, accountability gains will be limited if improvements in governance remain highly dependent on individual officeholders. Even as household conditions improve, the delivery of public services continues to vary widely across localities. In many areas, progress in health, education, or infrastructure is still disrupted by leadership turnover rather than sustained by durable administrative systems.

Some local governments, however, demonstrate what is possible when incentives align around performance and accountability. Where administrative capacity, leadership, and voter expectations reinforce one another, targeted reforms—such as improvements in frontline health care, streamlined administrative procedures, and investments in school quality—have taken root. These cases remain limited in scale, but they demonstrate that accountability can emerge even within a personalized political system when performance is visible and rewarded.

Extending these gains requires supporting bureaucratic professionalism in practical ways: investing in data systems, standard operating procedures, and career incentives that emphasize reliability and service delivery; insulating frontline functions from political turnover; and reinforcing norms of performance evaluation that are legible to citizens. These do not require grand institutional overhauls, nor do they depend on wishful thinking that the country can immediately transition away from personalistic politics. Rather, they are precisely the kinds of changes that make service delivery more predictable and gain traction when they align with how citizens evaluate government performance.

What is required instead is a realignment of incentives within that system, so that economic progress translates more reliably into political accountability and the protection of rights.

The path forward, then, is not about wholesale constitutional change or institutional redesign. The Philippine political system already provides the formal mechanisms needed for accountability. What is required instead is a realignment of incentives within that system, so that economic progress translates more reliably into political accountability and the protection of rights. Strengthening the information environment and targeted investments in bureaucratic capacity can help ensure that economic growth and political accountability move together rather than on parallel tracks.

When voters reward performance and policy alignment, even at the margins, they reshape the incentives political elites face. These shifts may be gradual, but they are directional, and often self-reinforcing. They expand the space for accountable politics and narrow the appeal of purely transactional ones. The task ahead is not to wait for institutional change, but to meet voters where they already are: ready to choose differently, when given the tools to do so.nt.

about the author

Cesi Cruz is an associate professor of political science and economics at the University of Michigan. Her research examines political accountability and governance, with a focus on how information, institutions, and social networks shape political behavior in developing democracies. She serves on the editorial board of VoxDev, a policy platform that translates academic research into accessible insights for policymakers and practitioners in development. Her work has been published in leading journals in political science and economics.

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2026 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

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The Freedom and Prosperity Center aims to increase the prosperity of the poor and marginalized in developing countries and to explore the nature of the relationship between freedom and prosperity in both developing and developed nations.

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Tunisia needs both bread and freedom https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/tunisia-needs-both-bread-and-freedom/ Fri, 20 Feb 2026 20:24:43 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=905414 Tunisia was one of the Arab Spring's success stories, with dramatic increases in political freedom after the 2011 uprising. Fifteen years on, the country's experience shows how intertwined freedom and prosperity are. With economic opportunity not matching the increases in political voice, frustration and unrest has followed.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Strengthening democratic institutions, ensuring transparent governance and independent courts, and expanding political freedoms will create a sustainable and inclusive environment for all citizens.
  • New economic reforms are needed to break monopolistic market power, foster genuine competition, and remove bureaucratic barriers to attract both domestic and foreign investment.
  • The Tunisian government must become more responsive and accountable to citizens’ growing social and economic grievances in order to prevent further unrest and build the social trust necessary for long-term stability.

This is the sixth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

Tunisia’s trajectory over the past several decades is often described as a story of rupture: an authoritarian stability that gave way to a singular democratic opening in 2011, followed a decade later by a dramatic reversal. The Freedom and Prosperity Indexes data help to clarify that narrative. They show that the post-2011 leap was overwhelmingly political and that legal and economic change was slower and more contested. This imbalance is central to understanding both the initial promise of Tunisia’s democratic transition and the depth of popular disillusionment that later emerged. The post-2021 turn was driven above all by the weakening of institutional constraints and judicial independence.

The presidency of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, who ruled the country from 1987 to 2011, rested on institutional formalities and tight control. Tunisia held elections, maintained a parliament, and projected administrative capacity, but these mechanisms did not translate into meaningful competition or accountability. Political opposition was fragmented, repressed, or forced into exile, and civil society organizations operated under constant surveillance. This is reflected in the political subindex’s very low baseline prior to 2011. The country displayed an outer shell of formal politics while keeping the substance of political contestation closed, consistent with an electoral autocracy where procedural elements of democracy coexist with pervasive repression.

The pre-uprising period also explains why the 2011 revolution was propelled by the quest for dignity and fairness as much as for formal rights. Social grievances accumulated around the belief that opportunities were unequally distributed. Corruption was distorting markets and access. Regional disparities—between the more prosperous coast and the marginalized interior—had become entrenched. The tension occasionally erupted into localized protests, most notably the 2008 Gafsa mining basin uprising, which was violently suppressed and received little domestic media coverage at the time. Such episodes revealed social and economic cleavages that the authoritarian system was unable and unwilling to address, even as it succeeded in preventing large-scale political mobilization for many years.

The 2011 revolution marked a dramatic rupture in Tunisia’s political trajectory. The collapse of the Ben Ali regime triggered an unprecedented expansion of political freedom, clearly visible in the sharp rise of the political subindex after 2011. Elections became genuinely competitive, political parties proliferated, and civil and political rights were significantly expanded. The adoption of the 2014 constitution represented a high point, enshrining extensive civil liberties, protections for political pluralism, and formal checks on executive power. In comparative terms, Tunisia emerged as the most successful democratic transition to result from the Arab Spring, a status widely acknowledged by scholars and international observers over the decade that followed.

This political opening occurred despite an exceptionally challenging environment. Tunisia faced severe security threats, including terrorist attacks and instability along its border with Libya, which disrupted tourism and deterred investment. Economic performance remained weak, and unemployment persisted at high levels. Nevertheless, political elites repeatedly demonstrated a willingness to compromise in order to preserve the democratic process. In 2013, a deadlock in the “Troika” governing coalition brought the government to a dangerous edge, amid disagreements over the constitutional order and the role of Ennahda, an Islamist party, in the new system. The resolution was not a winner-take-all victory but a negotiated exit: the replacement of the governing coalition by a technocratic government, a path toward general elections, and the adoption of a new constitution in 2014 that was widely seen as liberal. This episode, in which a coalition of civil society organizations stepped in to mediate when politicians were deadlocked, reinforced the perception that Tunisia’s political class was committed to democratic consolidation, even at significant short-term political cost.

Yet the very mechanisms that stabilized the political system during this period also contributed to its longer-term fragility. After the 2014 elections, Tunisia entered a prolonged phase of grand coalition governance, most notably through the Carthage Agreement, which brought together former rivals in the name of stability and consensus. While this arrangement reduced polarization and prevented institutional paralysis, it blurred the distinction between government and opposition and weakened electoral accountability. For many citizens, political competition appeared increasingly disconnected from policy outcomes, reinforcing perceptions of elite collusion and political closure. A system designed to prevent authoritarian concentration can, if it becomes synonymous with permanent compromise among elites, generate a different kind of legitimacy problem.

Additionally, while political freedoms remained high throughout most of the post–2011 decade, improvements were not matched by parallel gains in the economic subindex or legal subindex. Rapid expansion of political freedom was not accompanied by substantive reforms capable of addressing structural economic problems or strengthening the rule of law. As a result, the lived experience of democracy for many Tunisians remained largely unchanged. Daily interactions with the state continued to be shaped by bureaucratic inefficiency, informality, and limited economic opportunity, which combined to erode confidence in the democratic system itself.

Security shocks deepened the sense of vulnerability. Tourism—an essential sector—was severely damaged by major terrorist attacks in 2015 at the Bardo Museum attack and at the resort area of Port El Kantaoui. The fallout was not only a temporary loss of revenue. It also affected employment, foreign exchange, and the confidence that sustains private initiative. Security, as reflected in the Freedom Index, was weaker than it had been before 2011. The unresolved struggle over corruption and transitional justice further complicated the path from political opening to effective governance. After 2011, expectations for accountability were high, including for business elites and networks associated with the old regime. Yet a major dispute emerged over whether to exclude and prosecute old networks or to pursue reconciliation to preserve investment and economic stability. A new network of young activists was formed under the name “I will not forgive (مانيش مسامح)” to demand accountability before reconciliation. The Truth and Dignity Commission, established in a 2013 law, became a focal point for these debates, and the broader dilemma—accountability versus “turning the page”—stoked public frustration when citizens saw that the most powerful actors often appeared to escape consequences. Tunisia’s institutional design also had a missing pillar: the constitutional court. Debated and delayed over many years, it was never established in a way that allowed it to play its intended role, leaving the system more exposed when executive power later expanded.

Daily interactions with the state continued to be shaped by bureaucratic inefficiency, informality, and limited economic opportunity, which combined to erode confidence in the democratic system itself.

The growing gap between political openness and material outcomes contributed to widespread political disengagement. Voter turnout declined, trust in political parties fell, and frustration with parliamentary politics intensified. The 2019 elections revealed the depth of this disillusionment, producing a highly fragmented legislature and propelling Kais Saied, an independent candidate with no party affiliation, to the presidency. Saied’s campaign capitalized on popular resentment toward political elites, framing the post-2011 democracy as a system captured by self-serving parties and informal networks rather than a vehicle for genuine popular representation. On July 25, 2021—celebrated in Tunisia as Republic Day, marking the 1957 abolition of the monarchy—President Kais Saied dismantled key features of the post-2011 balance of power. Parliament was suspended and then dissolved, executive authority was re-centralized, and Tunisia moved toward a new constitutional framework.

Although elections continued to be held, their substance changed fundamentally. New electoral rules marginalized political parties, restricted meaningful competition, and transformed elections into largely individual, nonpartisan contests. Such a design undermines parties as channels of representation and reduces collective accountability, even if the formal mechanics of voting persist. It also reshapes how citizens can aggregate interests and how opposition can organize—core elements of pluralism that matter beyond the existence of polling stations.

The crackdown on the judiciary is central to the post-2021 reversal. After 2011, judicial independence increased dramatically according to legal subindex data—only to plummet again in 2021. One of the main institutional gains of Tunisia’s transition post-2011, the judiciary became one of the first targets of executive pressure. Judges and lawyers who opposed executive moves faced dismissal, prosecution, or detention, and the space for independent legal contestation narrowed. In a context where a constitutional court never materialized, this degree of pressure on the judiciary further reduced the system’s ability to provide institutional checks.

By 2024, Tunisia’s freedom landscape has dramatically deteriorated. While the civil liberties subindex shows a relatively steady trend through 2024, the aggregate data obscures the rapid changes that have eroded those liberties since the 2021 coup. For instance, recent evidence documents a sharp increase in arbitrary detentions, prison torture, and suspicious deaths in custody. Similarly, core institutional safeguards of democratic governance—constraints on executive power, a credible separation of powers, and an independent judiciary—have deteriorated markedly as shown by the other freedom subindexes. The Freedom Index data (with its subindexes) highlights the limits of political liberalization when it is not embedded in broader reforms of the state and the economy. Democratic transitions, like Tunisia’s, are revealed to be fragile in contexts where political institutions are not accompanied by social and economic reforms to sustain them.

From freedom to prosperity

The evolution of prosperity in Tunisia since 1995 provides a sobering counterpoint to the dramatic political changes captured by the Freedom Index. Unlike political freedom, which experienced sharp discontinuities after 2011 and again after 2021, the Prosperity Index reveals a far more muted and gradual trajectory. Income, education, health, inequality, and other components show limited responsiveness to political transformation, highlighting the structural constraints that have long shaped Tunisia’s development. The central lesson is not that the country made no social progress after 2011, but that prosperity did not accelerate in a way that matched the expectations unleashed by the political opening.

The central lesson is not that the country made no social progress after 2011, but that prosperity did not accelerate in a way that matched the expectations unleashed by the political opening.

Income captures this dynamic directly. Economic performance under the Ben Ali regime was often portrayed as relatively strong by regional standards, yet this growth was unevenly distributed and heavily reliant on low-value-added sectors such as tourism and assembly-based manufacturing. Real income growth was modest, and job creation lagged behind demographic pressures. Inequality and regional disparities remained entrenched, particularly between coastal areas and the country’s interior.

In public debate, the revolution carried an implicit promise that political voice would translate into economic opportunity, especially for young people and marginalized regions. Nonetheless, the post-2011 period did not produce a decisive break with the previous pattern. Democratic transitions are often associated with short-term economic disruptions, but Tunisia’s stagnation persisted well beyond the initial adjustment period. Not only did the economy not show a clear acceleration in income growth or improvements in labor market outcomes, but economic uncertainty actually increased in the wake of the revolution, as security concerns, declining tourism revenues, and fiscal pressures constrained growth. Foreign investment remained subdued, and successive governments struggled to articulate and implement coherent economic reform strategies amid political fragmentation. When expectations are high, incremental prosperity gains can feel like stagnation, and the perception that democracy failed to deliver material benefits to the majority of citizens becomes politically consequential.

Education and health outcomes continued to improve gradually, but these trends largely reflected preexisting trajectories rather than new policy breakthroughs. Tunisia entered the post-2011 period with relatively strong human capital indicators compared to many peers in the region, and incremental progress continued despite fiscal constraints. However, these gains were insufficient to offset rising unemployment, especially among educated youth, which became one of the most visible and politically salient failures of the post-revolutionary order.

Similarly, inequality improved only modestly after 2011. The uprising was fueled in part by grievances about unequal access and regional exclusion, yet the prosperity data suggests that inclusion advanced gradually rather than decisively. Tunisia’s economic structure helps explain this. The country has long displayed a dualism between an internationally connected, often coastal economy and an interior that experiences weaker public services, fewer jobs, and less investment. Persistently high informality reinforces this dualism by limiting productivity growth and reducing the reach of social protection.

Tunisia has maintained a respectable environmental profile according to the Prosperity Index data, as the country avoided the extreme environmental degradation observed in some rapidly industrializing countries. For many citizens, the post-2011 decade was shaped more by jobs, prices, public services, and security than by environmental policy. Environmental performance matters, yet it does not substitute for the everyday pressures that drive political legitimacy.

The minorities component is where prosperity intersects most directly with the post-2021 political turn. The index shows improvement after 2011, consistent with a wider opening of civic space. But this progress reverses after 2021. The reversal aligns with an increasingly hostile discourse targeting sub-Saharan African migrants and Black Tunisians, including rhetoric drawing from a “replacement” narrative.

The path forward

Overall, Tunisia’s freedom and prosperity scores tell the unfinished story of the 2011 revolution—calls for freedom, dignity, and social justice remain partially unanswered. The path forward requires Tunisia to balance economic reforms with political liberalization. Freedom alone will not achieve prosperity, and prosperity alone will not guarantee freedom. While recent years have registered gradual increases in prosperity metrics, these numbers hide deep structural economic challenges: limited market integration, lack of investment, low buying power, and stagnation in technology and innovation.

Freedom alone will not achieve prosperity, and prosperity alone will not guarantee freedom.

Tunisia needs comprehensive economic reform that fundamentally addresses market structure. Breaking up concentrated market power and fostering genuine competition in key sectors must be prioritized. Competition drives innovation, efficiency, and ultimately the job creation that Tunisians desperately need. Without competitive markets, growth will remain anemic and unable to generate sustainable long-term development. New trade agreements, beyond monopolistic arrangements, will boost market access and competitiveness. Tunisia enjoys close proximity to European and African markets, and it is not fully exploiting this potential. The country must engage with new partners and expand its trade structure.

Investment also needs to reach its potential. As a Mediterranean hub with attractive potential across energy, tourism, and technology, Tunisia should nurture its private sector by encouraging domestic and foreign investment. The current legal framework and bureaucratic barriers deter new investors. The country should diversify its investment pool and position itself as a North African hub connecting Africa, Europe, and Asia.

Energy remains underrepresented despite its vast potential. Tunisia possesses exceptional solar energy capacity due to long days and abundant sunlight, yet it depends heavily on imported oil and gas while energy needs increase annually. Solar energy constitutes only a small fraction of total electricity production. In December 2025, a new solar panel project was initiated in the city of Kairouan to address this gap. More renewable energy projects are needed to reduce oil and gas dependency, satisfy citizen needs, and avoid the electricity outages that have become increasingly common during summer months. Wind energy could also be further developed to produce clean, sustainable power.

Another major barrier is low buying power among citizens, driven by high inflation, stagnant growth, high public debt, import dependency, and shortages of basic goods. In recent years, the country has faced significant medical supply crises, and several products are no longer available due to low foreign currency reserves and budget constraints. People with chronic conditions now lack basic medication or must wait for alternatives. Food prices remain high relative to incomes, and the country has experienced shortages in flour, sugar, coffee, and milk. If prices remain high and inflation persists, social unrest will intensify.

Tunisia once stood at the forefront of technological advancement but has fallen behind in digitalization, electronic transactions, and artificial intelligence. The country is not only failing to invest in new technologies but also losing its best engineers and researchers, who migrate elsewhere in search of better economic opportunities and political stability.

Yet economic reforms alone will prove insufficient without parallel political liberalization. Tunisia’s economy cannot reach its potential in an environment where property rights remain uncertain, contracts are unreliably enforced, and regulatory decisions lack transparency. Investors, both domestic and foreign, need confidence that there are legal protections for their investments, that courts function independently, and that political connections do not determine business success.

Strong state institutions that operate transparently and responsibly are prerequisites for sustained economic development. Absent these, reforms are merely cosmetic exercises that benefit connected elites instead of delivering broad-based growth. Economic rights, such as to own property, enforce contracts, and operate businesses without arbitrary interference, require robust legal frameworks and independent judiciaries to defend them.

Political freedom and economic development are not competing priorities but complementary necessities. When citizens can express grievances, participate in decision-making, and hold leaders accountable, economic policies better reflect genuine needs rather than narrow interests. Political openness creates pressure for responsive governance, reduces corruption, and builds the social trust necessary for economic cooperation.

Tunisia’s future depends on finding the right balance between pursuing market reforms and global integration while strengthening democratic institutions and protecting fundamental freedoms.

The accumulation of unaddressed economic grievances breeds frustration that political repression cannot permanently contain. Tunisia needs a social contract where economic opportunities expand alongside political voice, where growth translates to improved living standards for ordinary citizens, not just elites. This means not only GDP growth but attention to employment quality, income distribution, and access to services. The country has witnessed increasing protests in 2025, with more occurring in early 2026, including a nationwide strike organized by UGTT, the country’s influential organized labor confederation. Tunisia’s future depends on finding the right balance between pursuing market reforms and global integration while strengthening democratic institutions and protecting fundamental freedoms. Only this combination can deliver sustainable prosperity that satisfies citizen aspirations and builds a stable foundation for long-term development.

about the author

Ameni Mehrez is an assistant professor of government at the College of William & Mary and a nonresident fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School’s Middle East Initiative program. She holds a PhD in political science from Central European University. Her main areas of expertise are public opinion surveys, political attitudes, electoral behavior, and party politics in the Arab-Muslim world. Currently, she serves as the co-principal investigator of the Arab Elections project.

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Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

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Four options for arms control after New START https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/four-options-for-arms-control-after-new-start/ Fri, 20 Feb 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=904679 With the last quantitative limit on the world's largest nuclear arsenals now expired, Washington finds itself in a new and uncertain era, with less clarity about Russia’s nuclear forces, plans to upgrade its own, and growing concern about China's. The best option may be trilateral talks—but not about a new arms control treaty.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The Cold War-era framework of nuclear arms control has broken down, but the need to manage nuclear competition remains urgent.
  • The confidence and connections that regular talks built is critical to reducing the dangers.
  • The Trump administration could engage Moscow and Beijing in high-level talks toward nuclear stability, while still pursuing updates to the US nuclear arsenal.

When the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) expired February 5, 2026, the United States and Russia entered a new period without any legally binding restrictions on their nuclear forces. Both countries lost not only the limits on deployed nuclear warheads that New START stipulated, but also the insights and predictability provided by the treaty-mandated monitoring and transparency measures. For decades, these mechanisms helped the two nations manage their nuclear competition while avoiding misunderstandings and worst-case assessments.

The international security environment has changed significantly since New START entered into force in 2011. Russia’s noncompliance with past treaties, its invasion of Ukraine, and its malign activities across Europe have generated concerns about whether Moscow can be a credible partner in arms control agreements. China’s growing nuclear force posture, its broader military expansion, and its challenges to US allies and partners in the Indo-Pacific have also raised questions about whether the United States should engage with China in an arms control process, or expand the US nuclear force posture in response. Taken together, these challenges have reopened debate about the role arms control can play in managing great-power nuclear competition.

For the past thirty years, each new US administration has sought to align its arms control policy with US national security interests by reviewing the threat environment, identifying risks to US security, and assessing changing requirements for its nuclear deterrent. The results of these reviews have then influenced plans for the US nuclear force posture and US negotiating positions in arms control talks.  

While the current administration has so far not undertaken a formal Nuclear Posture Review, President Donald Trump has said that he would like to pursue “denuclearization” with Russia and China to reduce the “tremendous amounts of money” spent on nuclear forces.1 He did not say what he wanted to include in this process, but an agreement would need to balance US interests in restraining Russian and Chinese forces with possible US plans to expand the numbers and types of weapons in its own arsenal. Given this complexity, the question is not simply whether the United States and Russia can preserve or extend existing arms control agreements. Rather, it is whether the United States, Russia, and potentially China can maintain some of the essential stabilizing functions of arms control in today’s competitive security environment.

This essay will assess the strengths, weaknesses, and feasibility of several alternative pathways for the future of nuclear arms control.2 It will ultimately conclude that the United States can support its security and arms control interests by engaging Russia and China in a more flexible framework that combines high-level engagement among political leaders with expert working groups that can develop practical measures to foster restraint and mitigate the risks of nuclear use. This approach will both satisfy the president’s interest in engaging in arms control issues and preserve US leadership in shaping global norms.

Option one: Resume negotiations with Russia

The United States and Russia could retain the transparency, predictability, and restraint codified in New START if they negotiated a comprehensive treaty that continued to limit their nuclear-capable delivery systems and nuclear warheads. The two nations began talks toward this goal in 2021 but Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine interrupted the process before they could agree on an agenda or specific provisions.3

Moscow and Washington could agree to maintain their forces within the New START limits even though the treaty has expired. Russian President Vladimir Putin suggested this approach in September 2025, when he said that observing the treaty’s “central quantitative restrictions for one year” would “prevent the emergence of a new strategic arms race and . . . preserve an acceptable degree of predictability and restraint.”4 He did not, however, offer to resume the data exchanges and notifications that help the United States remain confident that Russia is complying with its obligations.

Trump initially said that a one-year extension was a “good idea,” but there is no indication that the nations held further discussions on this option. Moreover, a reciprocal commitment to remain within New START limits might not serve US national security interests if it excludes any monitoring arrangements or slows US plans to respond to the emerging challenge from China.

Option two: Include China in arms control negotiations 

While China has long participated in multilateral arms control negotiations, it has rejected proposals for negotiations—or even an informal dialogue—on its current and planned nuclear force posture. It has often insisted that it would only participate in formal arms control negotiations after the United States and Russia reduced their deployed nuclear forces to numbers closer to those in the much smaller Chinese arsenal. Guo Jiakun, a spokesman for China’s Foreign Ministry, emphasized this position after Trump called for denuclearization talks, noting that it was “neither reasonable nor realistic” to expect China to participate in trilateral nuclear disarmament negotiations because “China and the United States are not at the same level at all in terms of nuclear capabilities.”5 China reiterated this position in its recent white paper on arms control, disarmament, and nonproliferation, noting, “Countries possessing the largest nuclear arsenals should fulfill their special and primary responsibilities for nuclear disarmament and continue to make drastic and substantive reductions in their nuclear arsenals in a verifiable, irreversible and legally-binding manner.”6

This, along with its long-standing objections to discussions on transparency or limits on its nuclear forces, makes it unlikely that Beijing would join the United States and Russia in formal treaty negotiations. Even if China were to participate in discussions on measures to mitigate the risks of nuclear escalation, its priorities would likely differ from those of the United States. Nevertheless, such talks could provide an opening for more substantive conversations on transparency measures and restraints on China’s nuclear buildup.

Option three: Pause arms control; prioritize nuclear modernization 

Because Russia and China have rebuffed US efforts to hold talks on arms control and risk reduction measures, the Biden administration suggested that the United States could pause its attempts to establish such dialogues while it worked to modernize its own nuclear posture.7 With this approach, the United States would “continue to abide by New START limits for the duration of the Treaty,” but would also prepare “for a world where constraints on nuclear weapons arsenals disappear entirely.”8

Several policy experts have supported a similar approach, suggesting that the United States should not restrain its nuclear forces while Russia and China add to theirs and that it should return to arms control dialogues only after it has bolstered its own nuclear deterrent.9 Others have disputed the notion that a buildup in US nuclear forces would give the United States leverage in future negotiations, arguing that it could instead lead to greater competition, more weapons deployments, and a higher risk of instability among the nuclear powers.10

Option four: Engage with Russia and China, but not on a treaty

Because Trump seems interested in engaging with Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping on arms control (or denuclearization), an option in which the United States pauses arms control negotiations while it builds up its nuclear forces might not be consistent with Trump’s agenda. The administration might, therefore, consider a fourth option that envisions two tracks—one in which the president and his counterparts in Russia and China address broad principles of nuclear stability, and a second in which expert working groups craft concrete measures to foster cooperation and mitigate the risk of nuclear war.

This approach accommodates the president’s instincts for engagement while aligning with US national security objectives. It recognizes that formal treaty negotiations and reductions in the numbers of deployed nuclear weapons are not realistic options at this time and might not be consistent with US plans for its nuclear force posture. But it could preserve the core benefits of arms control through ongoing communication and cooperation. Moreover, it would demonstrate that the United States remains committed to reducing nuclear dangers in an environment where it faces challenges from both Russia and China.

The high-level engagement addressing broad principles of nuclear stability would provide the United States, Russia, and China with the opportunity to replicate some of the discussions on the dangers of nuclear war that the United States and Soviet Union held during the Cold War. For example, in the 1971 Accident Measures Agreement, the United States and Soviet Union recognized “the devastating consequences that nuclear war would have for all mankind” and affirmed their role in exerting “every effort to avert the risk of outbreak of such a war.”11 They expressed similar sentiments in the 1973 Agreement on the Prevention of Nuclear War.12 Then, in 1985, Presidents Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev issued their famous statement that “a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought.”13

These types of statements would do little to restrain the nuclear competition but could offer a low-cost, high-impact avenue for restoring cooperation in an era of renewed great-power rivalry. Where the absence of dialogue among nuclear powers can heighten the risk of miscommunication, agreement on even the most basic statements regarding nuclear dangers can set a baseline for more comprehensive negotiations in the future.

The expert working groups on the second track would likely revisit risk reduction concepts pursued by the United States and the Soviet Union during the Cold War such as enhanced communication networks, missile launch notification agreements, and rules of the road to avoid military accidents and escalation. The United States and China lack a similar history with these types of measures, but China has taken some steps in recent years to engage on these topics. Bringing these discussions into a three-party venue will give each nation the opportunity to air its concerns about the sources of risk and to work together to identify concrete measures to address those specific risks.

These two tracks will do little in the near term to address the growth in Russian and Chinese nuclear forces or to reduce the risks created by Russian and Chinese malign activities that have targeted US allies and partners. On the other hand, they likely will not impede the US nuclear modernization program or US efforts to support its allies and partners. They can, however, build a foundation for future talks on nuclear dangers, provide an opportunity for the three nations to find common ground on issues on which they can cooperate to manage their nuclear competition, and offer a venue for their leaders to demonstrate their commitment to reducing the risk of nuclear war.

Connections help, even without formal treaties

With the expiration of New START in 2026, the United States faces a future in which the familiar framework of nuclear arms control has broken down, but the need to manage nuclear competition remains as urgent as ever. Therefore, even if the nuclear powers cannot rely on formal treaties to set the framework for their nuclear cooperation, a decision to abandon arms control altogether would leave the United States without tools to influence the emerging complex security environment or to prevent crises from escalating into catastrophe.

Progress in reducing nuclear dangers requires ongoing dialogue, mutual understanding, and clear leadership, even if the endgame does not include formal treaties and high-profile signing ceremonies. Efforts to manage nuclear competition have always included less formal and more flexible tools that focus on political engagement, practical risk reduction, and shared responsibility among nuclear powers.

Thus, the two-track strategy described here provides tangible benefits for US national security. It aligns with the president’s expressed interest in engaging with both Moscow and Beijing and supports the US goal of maintaining flexibility to advance its own nuclear modernization programs. It shows leadership on critical nuclear security issues at a time when both allies and adversaries question the US commitment to stability and restraint. Most importantly, it strengthens the connections—political, diplomatic, and psychological—that prevent competition from turning into confrontation, reaffirming that both deterrence and arms control can help prevent the use of nuclear weapons in war.

This issue brief is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s Great nuclear debate series, a curated anthology of perspectives on arms control, force sizing, and missile defense from leading experts.

About the author

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Forward Defense leads the Atlantic Council’s US and global defense programming, developing actionable recommendations for the United States and its allies and partners to compete, innovate, and navigate the rapidly evolving character of warfare. Through its work on US defense policy and force design, the military applications of advanced technology, space security, strategic deterrence, and defense industrial revitalization, it informs the strategies, policies, and capabilities that the United States will need to deter, and, if necessary, prevail in major-power conflict.

1    “Remarks by President Trump at the World Economic Forum,” US Mission to the European Union, January 24, 2025. https://useu.usmission.gov/remarks-by-president-trump-at-the-world-economic-forum/?_ga=2.152169849.1721170525.1760306105-1756000815.1760306104.
2    For more comprehensive assessments of these alternatives, see: “America’s Strategic Posture,” Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States, October 2023, https://www.ida.org/-/media/feature/publications/a/am/americas-strategic-posture/strategic-posture-commission-report.ashx; Rose Gottemoeller, “Arms Control is Not Dead Yet,” Foreign Affairs, April 15, 2025, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/united-states/arms-control-not-dead-yet.
3    For a summary of the US negotiating positions, see: Mallory Stewart, “Keynote Address for the Commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the Arms Control Association,” US Department of State, June 2, 2022, https://2021-2025.state.gov/keynote-address-for-the-commemoration-of-the-50th-anniversary-of-the-arms-control-association/. For a summary of the Russian negotiating positions, see: “Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov’s Opening Remarks at a Briefing . . . on Arms Control and Strategic Stability,” Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, February 11, 2021, https://www.mid.ru/en/foreign_policy/news/1415641.
4    “Meeting with Permanent Members of the Security Council,” President of Russia, September 22, 2025, http://www.en.kremlin.ru/events/president/transcripts/78051.
5    “China Rules Out Participating in Denuclearization Talks with U.S. and Russia, as Suggested by Trump,” CBS News, August 27, 2025, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/china-rejects-trump-invite-nuclear-weapons-denuclearization-talks-us-russia/.
6    Ministry of Foreign Affairs, People’s Republic of China, White Paper on China’s Arms Control, Disarmament, and Nonproliferation in the New Era, November 27, 2025. https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/mfa_eng/xw/wjbxw/202511/t20251127_11761653.html.
7    This modernization program includes the ongoing efforts to replace its older nuclear delivery systems and warheads; to acquire a new nuclear-armed sea-launched cruise missile; to update its nuclear command, control, and communication systems; and to invest in its nuclear production facilities.
8    See Pranay Vaddi, “Adapting the U.S. Approach to Arms Control and Nonproliferation to a New Era,” Arms Control Association, June 7, 2024, https://www.armscontrol.org/2024AnnualMeeting/Pranay-Vaddi-remarks; “‘Nuclear Threats and the Role of Allies’: Remarks by Acting Assistant Secretary of Defense for Space Policy Dr. Vipin Narang,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, August 1, 2024, https://www.defense.gov/News/Speeches/Speech/Article/3858.
9    Austin Long, “No Zombie Nuclear Treaties,” Strategic Simplicity, August 15, 2025, https://strategicsimplicity.substack.com/p/no-zombie-nuclear-treaties.
10    See, for example: Daryl G. Kimball, “Remarks at a Joint Briefing at the UNGA First Committee on ‘Advancing Article VI Goals as New START Expires,'” Arms Control Association, October 9, 2025, https://www.armscontrol.org/events-and-remarks/2025-10/remarks-joint-briefing-unga-first-committee-advancing-article-vi-goals.
11    U.S. Department of State, Agreement on Measures to Reduce the Risk of Outbreak of Nuclear War Between The United States of America and The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, September 30, 1971, https://2009-2017.state.gov/t/isn/4692.htm.
12    United States Department of State, Agreement Between The United States of America and The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics on the Prevention of Nuclear War, June 22, 1973 https://2009-2017.state.gov/t/isn/5186.htm.
13    Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum, Joint Soviet-United States Statement on the Summit Meeting in Geneva, November 21, 1985. https://www.reaganlibrary.gov/archives/speech/joint-soviet-united-states-statement-summit-meeting-geneva.

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A strategic asset: Leveraging special security agreements for defense innovation https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/a-strategic-asset-leveraging-special-security-agreements-for-defense-innovation/ Wed, 18 Feb 2026 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=901968 In a world where technological dominance defines military superiority, the United States must use every available tool to stay ahead. Special security agreements are one such tool. Here are the best ways to leverage these agreements and the pathfinder projects Washington should pursue to tackle critical defense challenges.

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Acknowledgements

Forward Defense is grateful to Airbus Americas, Inc. for its support of this report.

Airbus U.S. Space and Defense, Inc. (a subsidiary of Airbus Americas, Inc.) operates under a Special Security Agreement (SSA)—the subject of this report—with the US government. Other companies mentioned in this report in the context of their SSAs with the US government—American Rheinmetall Defense and Leonardo—are also donors to Forward Defense, but are not supporters of this report.

This report was written and published in accordance with the Atlantic Council’s Intellectual Independence Policy, which requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of its work. The author is solely responsible for its analysis and recommendations.

The author thanks Abigail Rudolph for her writing and editing support.

About the author

Table of contents

Executive summary

Special Security Agreements (SSAs) can help sustain a defense advantage for the free world amid rising global competition. These agreements allow foreign-owned, US-based defense companies to engage in sensitive US defense contracts under stringent government oversight, ensuring adherence to national security protocols.

SSAs strategically reconcile the use of foreign expertise with the protection of US interests, bolstering defense self-sufficiency by diversifying supply chains and augmenting domestic production capabilities. These companies can stimulate innovation and fortify the US industrial base. While it is predominantly European defense companies that utilize SSAs, Asian defense companies have long participated in US national security projects under SSAs—Japan, South Korea, and Singapore have maintained such arrangements for more than a decade. South Korea’s Hanwha Aerospace is the latest example, currently undergoing the SSA accreditation process to expand its role in the US defense industrial base.1

Maintaining engagement with allied defense technology via SSAs can help the United States; it ensures interoperability and alliance resilience even as current geopolitical dynamics require a flexible and pragmatic approach. For Europe, SSAs prevent the division of transatlantic defense cooperation and helps to assure compatibility with NATO systems. Companies operating under an SSA are subject to stringent safeguards, including direct oversight by the US Department of Defense (DOD) via the Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency (DCSA) and continuous internal monitoring by a Government Security Committee (GSC) composed of cleared US citizens. This dual structure mitigates foreign ownership, control, or influence (FOCI), while enabling the US government to safely access and operationalize allied technologies for critical national security needs.

To optimize the advantages of SSAs, this paper recommends streamlining export approvals for defense systems, utilizing SSA companies to broaden US access to allied defense markets, countering Chinese and Russian arms sales with SSA-backed defense agreements, expediting the SSA approval process, and establishing a dedicated SSA office within the US DOD.

This report also identifies four Pathfinder Projects—in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), counter-hypersonics, maritime autonomy, and cyber resilience—that demonstrate how SSA companies can be leveraged as strategic enablers to enhance allied defense integration, while addressing regulatory, operational, and policy barriers to collaboration.

In sum, SSAs are a strategic asset that can enhance US military strength, reinforce alliances, and secure the United States’ ongoing leadership in global defense innovation.

Introduction

The United States has long maintained the world’s most advanced and capable large-scale military, underpinned by technological superiority and a robust defense industrial base. Yet, as global threats evolve, China and Russia are rapidly modernizing their militaries and challenging US dominance. To sustain its edge, Washington must strengthen its defense sector while maintaining control over foreign investment in sensitive industries.

SSAs are a critical, yet often misunderstood, tool in this effort. First introduced in 1984 during the Cold War, these agreements emerged as a response to growing concerns about FOCI in the US defense industry. By the 1970s, policymakers had started formalizing security measures to regulate foreign investments in defense companies. Over time, these mechanisms evolved through the National Industrial Security Program (NISP) and were further strengthened as security concerns deepened after 9/11. Today, SSAs provide a structured framework that allows foreign-owned, US-based defense companies to contribute to national security while operating under strict US government oversight.2

The advantages are clear. SSAs enable the United States to harness foreign technology, investment, and competition while managing national security risks through security controls. They also strengthen transatlantic and broader allied defense cooperation.

The strategic logic behind SSAs is simple: They ensure that foreign companies contribute to US military strength while remaining fully compliant with US regulations. In a world where technological dominance defines military superiority, Washington must use every available tool to stay ahead. Properly managed, SSAs are one such tool, allowing the United States to leverage foreign defense investments for competitive advantage.

Problem statement: US defense strategy—the five fault lines

The US defense industrial base is at a crossroads. While the United States maintains the world’s most advanced large-scale military, its ability to sustain technological dominance is under pressure from several converging trends.

  • First, industrial capacity constraints have become a national security concern. The war in Ukraine has underscored bottlenecks in US production lines, from ammunition stockpiles to shipbuilding delays. The Pentagon has struggled to ramp up manufacturing at the speed required for sustained military operations.
  • Second, US defense research and development (R&D) investment is falling behind. Insufficient internal R&D funding has made it difficult for defense primes and mid-tier contractors to drive innovation at the pace of geopolitical relevance. While China rapidly scales military-technological advancements, the US defense sector remains overly reliant on government-funded programs with slow procurement cycles.
  • Third, the rise of dual-use technology is reshaping military competition. Critical advancements in artificial intelligence (AI), space-based defense, and cybersecurity—among other sectors—are now driven by the commercial sector rather than government labs or traditional defense contractors. The United States must find ways to integrate advanced allied technologies while safeguarding national security interests, protecting classified information, and maintaining appropriate oversight of foreign investment in sensitive sectors.
  • Fourth, allied interoperability is no longer optional. As NATO and Indo-Pacific alliances grow in strategic importance, the United States must ensure its defense sector remains deeply integrated with allied defense industries. However, driven by geopolitical concerns, European nations are increasingly prioritizing defense-industrial sovereignty, creating risks of fragmentation.
  • Finally, US defense exports face growing competition from adversaries. China and Russia have expanded their arms sales across the Middle East, Africa, and Asia, offering cheaper alternatives to US defense systems. Without strategic measures to maintain US leadership in global arms markets, the influence of US defense technology could erode.

Given these structural challenges, the United States cannot afford an isolationist approach to defense industrial policy.

Advantages offered by SSAs

SSAs provide a powerful mechanism that can help expand US access to cutting-edge capabilities—enhancing domestic production where appropriate, strengthening R&D investment, integrating dual-use technologies, improving allied interoperability, and maintaining US export competitiveness—all while ensuring that foreign investment is subject to rigorous US government oversight. While SSAs can support the relocation of manufacturing to the United States, they do not require it; rather, their primary function is to permit secure integration of foreign-developed capabilities into the US defense ecosystem under tightly controlled conditions. This section will examine each of these strategic advantages in turn.

Strengthening US defense self-sufficiency by reducing dependence on adversarial supply chains

SSAs play a pivotal role in helping the United States diversify and secure its defense supply chains without retreating into full-scale onshoring. They enable US-based subsidiaries of trusted foreign defense firms to contribute to critical programs. These companies operate within a framework that includes cleared US citizen leadership, firewalls to prevent foreign parent interference, and strict compliance with US defense contracting and export-control regimes.

This structure achieves two objectives simultaneously.

  • It allows the United States to safely access high-quality components and subsystems from allied supply chains in areas where domestic production might be insufficient or unavailable at scale.
  • It encourages trusted foreign firms to invest directly in the United States—boosting local manufacturing capacity, injecting competition, and accelerating innovation.

One example of this dynamic can be seen in American Rheinmetall’s expansion into the US armored vehicle sector.3 As the US Army pursues its modernization agenda, Rheinmetall—a global defense prime operating a US subsidiary under an SSA—has invested in domestic production facilities, with vehicle components manufactured onshore and under US security protocols. Another example is Kongsberg Defense & Aerospace, Inc., which announced in September 2024 the opening of a new missile production facility in James City County, Virginia, investing more than $100 million in capital expenditure over the next few years and creating over 180 new jobs.4 This approach on-shores defense production with less reliance on potentially vulnerable foreign supply chains while still allowing the DOD to access allied technology.

While SSAs do not address commodity-level vulnerabilities—such as rare earth element (REE) dependencies—they are a critical part of the broader solution. The 2010 incident in which China restricted REE exports to Japan over a diplomatic dispute illustrates how adversaries can weaponize supply chains.5 SSAs help mitigate this risk at the system level by insulating the defense industrial base from undue foreign influence and expanding the set of trusted suppliers across allied nations.

Expanding US defense production capacity

Beyond securing supply chains, another key challenge facing the US defense sector is limited production capacity. The ongoing war in Ukraine has exposed severe bottlenecks in US ammunition and missile stockpiles, raising concerns about whether the United States can sustain high-intensity military operations over extended periods.6 Similarly, US shipbuilding faces significant delays, with the US Navy struggling to meet its long-term fleet expansion goals.7 These industrial constraints highlight the need for increased defense manufacturing capabilities—a challenge that SSA companies can help address.

SSA companies can contribute to US defense self-sufficiency by building and operating US-based manufacturing facilities, expanding domestic production capacity, and reducing strain on other US defense companies. Rather than replacing US companies, SSA companies serve as force multipliers that increase the United States’ ability to manufacture critical defense equipment. For example, Leonardo Electronics, an SSA firm specializing in military electronics and avionics, has established multiple production sites in the United States, providing technology to US military aircraft and battlefield systems while keeping production within US borders.8 Similarly, Elbit America has several US production sites. Its facility in Roanoke County, Virginia is set to undergo a $30 million expansion and add 288 new jobs.9

The benefits of this approach extend beyond immediate military needs. By increasing manufacturing output, SSA companies create US jobs, attract foreign investment, and strengthen local economies. These investments bolster US industrial capacity, ensuring that critical defense production remains resilient in times of crisis.

Foreign direct investment (FDI) in US transportation equipment manufacturing—the Bureau of Economic Analysis industry category that captures aerospace, land systems, and missiles—rose from $167 billion in 2020 to $229 billion in 2023, a 37-percent jump despite tighter screening rules.10 Europe drove almost 40 percent of that 2023 increase; German-owned assets alone grew by $58.9 billion.11 By industry, affiliates in manufacturing increased the most, increasing $58.6 billion to a total investment position of $2.22 trillion.

Figure 1: US and foreign direct investment positions 2022-202312

Understanding SSA structures, proxy models, and national interest determination

While SSAs provide a powerful framework for integrating foreign-owned companies into the US defense industrial base, it is important to understand how SSA companies differ from proxy companies, as well as how certain regulatory requirements—particularly NIDs—impact their operational flexibility and ability to deliver capability to the warfighter. While the SSA model successfully allows the United States to leverage allied industrial capabilities under controlled conditions, the NID process introduces an additional layer of regulatory scrutiny. The experience of some SSA companies suggests that the average NID approval time can exceed twelve months for Top Secret programs and Special Access Programs (SAPs), underscoring the schedule risk these requirements introduce. To clarify the operational and regulatory distinctions between these structures, the table below summarizes the key differences between SSA companies, proxy companies, and the role of the NIDs process.

Proxy companies are wholly US-controlled entities established when foreign ownership must be structurally separated from operational control to protect highly sensitive national security interests. While the foreign parent company retains economic ownership, the company is governed by a board of US citizens who exercise exclusive authority over day-to-day management and operations. Although the foreign parent does not have access to classified information or direct operational control, it does not surrender all forms of influence. Notably, in some cases, companies do have some control as to whether they are placed under a proxy agreement or an SSA. Proxy companies are generally allowed to access Top Secret programs, SAPs, and other highly classified activities without requiring additional government approvals beyond their facility clearance.

By contrast, while SSA companies operate under stringent US government oversight—including US citizen management, security controls, and regular audits—they must seek NIDs whenever they require access to classified information above the Confidential level, particularly for Secret, Top Secret, or SAP contracts. A NID is a formal finding by the sponsoring US government agency that granting classified access to an SSA firm for a specific program or contract is in the national security interest of the United States.

Many companies choose the SSA model over a proxy or voting trust because it offers a more practical balance between security and strategic integration. SSAs allow the US government to mitigate foreign influence while still enabling the subsidiary to benefit from the technical expertise, supply chain efficiencies, and innovation capacity of the parent company—provided these are delivered in a strictly advisory capacity. For founder-led businesses or long-term industrial partnerships, the SSA structure provides visibility and continuity that proxy agreements—often perceived as a total separation—do not allow. In this way, SSAs support both security assurance and operational alignment across allied defense ecosystems.

While the SSA model successfully allows the United States to leverage allied industrial capabilities under controlled conditions, the NID process introduces an additional layer of regulatory scrutiny. Delays in obtaining NID approvals—whether due to bureaucratic backlog, shifting security assessments, or political considerations—can slow contract execution, complicate program management timelines, and create uncertainty around an SSA firm’s ability to deliver capability to the warfighter on schedule. In an environment where defense acquisition increasingly emphasizes speed to deployment, any perceived risk of delay can erode customer trust, damage a company’s reputation, and disincentivize program managers from awarding contracts to SSA companies even when they offer technological or cost advantages.

Recognizing these structural realities is critical to refining SSA policy. While the safeguards built into SSA and NID processes are necessary to protect national security, a more predictable, streamlined, and risk-calibrated approach would strengthen SSA companies’ ability to contribute fully to US defense priorities without compromising operational timelines or trust. Properly managing these regulatory mechanisms is essential both for maximizing industrial capacity and ensuring that the strategic advantages of SSAs are realized at the speed required by modern conflict.

SSAs under fire: Risks and critiques

Despite the jobs, dollars, and infrastructure SSAs bring to the United States, their role in the US defense ecosystem is sometimes debated. While proponents argue that SSAs enhance the US industrial base and strengthen transatlantic and broader allied defense collaboration, critics raise concerns about their impact on national security, economic sovereignty, and US jobs. The most vocal opposition stems from two major areas: security risks and economic competitiveness.

National security concerns: Do SSAs expose US defense capabilities?

Critics worry that allowing foreign-owned companies to operate in the US defense sector—even under SSAs—introduces material risks of foreign influence and potential technology transfer.

While SSAs are designed to mitigate these risks through security controls, critics argue that they leave open channels for subtle, but powerful, influence by foreign parent companies. According to a 1990 Government Accountability Office (GAO) report, which remains the office’s most recent comprehensive review of SSAs, many former Defense Department security officials expressed concerns that SSAs “do not negate” FOCI but accept it “as a risk/hazard,” especially in the absence of US-owned alternatives.

Indeed, unlike proxy agreements, which mitigate FOCI by transferring all voting power to cleared US proxies, SSAs explicitly acknowledge the presence of FOCI and manage its risk through a government security committee, independent US directors (though the foreign owner still has a presence on the board), and strict information-access controls. In other words, proxy agreements strongly mitigate FOCI; SSAs accept and mitigate it to a lesser degree. The former DOD officials mentioned above noted that company directors and employees might still feel beholden to foreign owners, thereby rendering them susceptible to undue pressure, even if it is unintentional. The 1990 GAO report also documented cases in which SSAs granted access to highly classified programs—including the stealth bomber and the Strategic Defense Initiative—raising alarm among security professionals who emphasized that such information is often not releasable even to close allied governments.

Furthermore, auditors found systemic weaknesses in how SSAs were implemented. In some instances, foreign owners were granted interim access to classified work for more than a year while formal safeguards were still under negotiation, undermining the DOD’s leverage and oversight. In other cases, National Interest Determinations (NIDs) used to justify SSAs lacked adequate documentation, and there were examples in which foreign companies had ties to adversarial states that were not formally evaluated during the clearance process.

These findings underscore a broader challenge with foreign investment in the defense sector: the security risks that arise when adversaries gain influence over US contractors. Despite oversight from DCSA, safeguards to mitigate foreign influence are historically reactive rather than proactive. Complex corporate structures and scattered information hinder the effectiveness of strategies to mitigate FOCI.13 Plus, agencies such as DCSA are facing budget cuts that could add to enforcement challenges.14

These shortcomings have fueled a perception among critics that SSAs, while administratively convenient, could compromise national security when used too broadly or without stringent enforcement.15

Understanding SSAs’ impact on American jobs and industry

Another critique of SSAs stems from a broader concern that allowing foreign defense companies to operate in the United States could displace US companies, impact domestic employment, and weaken the country’s industrial sovereignty. Some argue that foreign-owned companies, even if restricted by SSAs, still compete for US defense contracts—potentially squeezing out US suppliers and reducing opportunities for US-based manufacturers.16

There is also a perception that SSA companies might undermine the goals of “Buy American” policies, which aim to prioritize US workers and suppliers in defense procurement. This perspective has led to political opposition, particularly from factions that view any form of foreign participation in the defense sector as a threat to economic self-sufficiency.17 As US Senator Patty Murray put it during a 2008 debate over an Air Force contract, “We are hemorrhaging manufacturing jobs to foreign countries already, so I cannot imagine why … our government would decide to take 44,000 American jobs, good jobs, and give them to the Europeans.”18

A risk-benefit analysis

While concerns about SSAs are valid, they must be weighed against the strategic benefits these agreements provide. A blanket rejection of SSA companies would risk alienating key allies, reducing the competitiveness of US defense exports, and limiting the Pentagon’s access to cutting-edge technology. Instead, the focus should be on refining SSA policies to ensure even greater transparency, security, and alignment with national interests.

The United States must strike a balance between maintaining industrial sovereignty and leveraging allied defense investment. With the right safeguards in place, SSAs remain a strategic tool that strengthens US defense posture while keeping foreign participation firmly under Pentagon oversight regarding what technologies are developed, how they are used, and where they are exported.19

Ensuring the United States calls the shots

SSAs include rigorous legal and operational safeguards that restrict foreign influence over sensitive defense projects.

  • US government oversight: SSA companies must comply with DOD regulations and operate under strict security protocols, including security controls to prevent foreign access to classified programs.
  • US-controlled management structures: SSA companies are required to appoint US citizens to key leadership positions, ensuring that strategic decisions remain in American hands.
  • Restrictions on FOCI: While the parent company might be foreign, the US subsidiary operates independently, adhering to US industrial security laws and regulations.20

These safeguards are working. In fact, FOCI-mitigated companies receive high ratings in their DCSA security reviews. And that’s one reason why they serve as a model for other areas of the federal government.

In April 2025, DCSA announced that it is set to expand foreign ownership reviews to unclassified defense contracts. New regulations will soon require companies to conduct FOCI assessments before being awarded contracts over five million dollars, representing a significant change from the previous focus primarily on companies seeking or holding security clearances for classified work.21 In parallel, the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS) has demonstrated its effectiveness in preventing acquisitions that could undermine US technological competitiveness and national security. For example, in March 2018, the first Trump administration blocked a proposed takeover of US telecom leader Qualcomm by a Singapore-based company.22 This successful intervention indicates that oversight mechanisms can work and security risks can be mitigated effectively.

More competition, lower costs, faster innovation, and supply chain resilience

Beyond technological access and security safeguards, SSA companies also play a key role in keeping the US defense sector competitive, cost-efficient, and innovative. The US military has long benefited from a defense market driven by competition among suppliers, which encourages efficiency and technological advancement. However, with a shrinking number of major US defense contractors dominating the industry, the risk of monopolistic pricing and slower innovation has increased.23

SSA companies help counteract this trend by introducing additional competition into the defense procurement process. When SSA companies bid for contracts, they push domestic companies to improve efficiency, reduce costs, and accelerate technological development.

SSA companies can also expand access to cutting-edge technologies and specialized expertise that might not otherwise exist in the domestic industrial base. Such international technology infusion strengthens US warfighting capability and supports an operational advantage on the battlefield.

Additionally, the SSA framework signals a high level of trust and interoperability among allies and partners. It represents more than just diplomatic coordination—it enables industrial integration, linking allied nations through shared production, innovation, and security standards. This deepened collaboration fosters strategic alignment and ensures that the United States and its closest partners remain technologically and operationally synchronized in future conflicts. It also reinforces the resilience and diversity of the defense industrial base by broadening the supplier pool and reducing overreliance on a limited number of domestic contractors.

Strengthening global arms competitiveness

The benefits of SSA companies extend beyond domestic defense needs; these companies also play a crucial role in expanding US defense exports and maintaining US dominance in global arms markets.

When SSA companies operate within the United States, they become part of the US defense ecosystem, aligning their interests with US export strategies. This participation enables the following:

  • International joint ventures: Whether led by the United States or allies in Europe, Asia, or elsewhere, these can expand arms exports by integrating complementary defense technologies into unified weapons systems, often making them more attractive to third-country buyers.
  • Greater US influence over global arms deals: SSAs give the US government greater influence over foreign defense companies operating domestically, enabling Washington to shape how their technologies are marketed, integrated, and exported—often favoring US-led configurations and supply chains over those aligned with geopolitical rivals.
  • Partnerships with US companies on international bids: SSAs can facilitate industrial partnerships that strengthen US companies’ participation in international bids by enabling secure collaboration on joint solutions, co-production, and technology integration that aligns with both US export controls and allied defense priorities.
  • Help for US companies navigating international procurement regulations: SSA-governed companies can serve as trusted international intermediaries, helping US defense companies navigate foreign procurement dynamics by offering local insight, industrial access, and co-bid pathways aligned with both US compliance standards and foreign political expectations.
  • The creation of joint defense platforms: These are more attractive to foreign buyers, strengthening US defense export potential.

By allowing foreign companies to participate in the US market under SSAs, Washington ensures that US defense companies remain deeply integrated into allied procurement decisions (increasing US companies’ global competitiveness) and that allied technological advancements primarily complement—rather than compete with—US military exports.

For an administration focused on “America First” policies, SSAs are a strategic asset that enhances US technological superiority while ensuring that foreign investment serves US national security goals.

Countering China and Russia in the global arms export competition

Beyond transatlantic defense markets, the United States faces growing competition from China and Russia in arms exports, particularly in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia. Both Beijing and Moscow have aggressively expanded their defense sales, offering lower-cost alternatives to US weapons and positioning themselves as preferred suppliers to nations that might otherwise purchase US systems.24

  • China has significantly expanded its arms exports, particularly in the drone and missile sectors, for countries that have struggled to navigate US export restrictions.
  • Russia remains a leading global supplier of military equipment, leveraging historical defense ties with India and countries in the Middle East and Africa.

The United States cannot afford to cede global market share to its adversaries, particularly in strategically significant regions. SSA companies provide an opportunity to strengthen US arms sales abroad by ensuring that allied defense companies are working in alignment with US strategic goals rather than competing with them.

For example, the United States can leverage SSA companies to position joint US-European defense solutions as the preferred alternative to markets that Russia or China might seek to serve. This approach ensures that Washington remains the dominant supplier of advanced military technology to friendly nations while limiting the ability of China and Russia to expand their defense influence.

SSAs as a tool for strengthening NATO and allied defense capabilities

In addition to securing US defense exports, SSA companies play an important role in strengthening NATO interoperability and allied defense capabilities. One challenge of multinational defense cooperation is ensuring that allied forces can seamlessly integrate their military technologies.25

Europe’s governments are simultaneously doubling defense budgets and signaling that at least 50 percent of those outlays should be spent on equipment “made in Europe” by 2030, according to the European Union’s first-ever European Defence Industrial Strategy (EDIS), unveiled on March 5, 2024.26 For many European primes, establishing or expanding a ring-fenced US SSA subsidiary is therefore the politically low-friction way to stay interoperable with US forces without appearing to export scarce production capacity across the Atlantic—a consideration that has become more salient as capitals debate strategic autonomy.

SSA companies help solve this problem by serving as a bridge between US and European defense platforms, allowing for better compatibility between NATO systems and joint development of interoperable technologies.27

Balancing interoperability gains with political realities

For the United States, strengthening allied interoperability through SSAs is not only advantageous but necessary for future coalition operations and maintaining NATO’s technological edge. However, it is important to recognize that, in the current geopolitical environment, some European allies face domestic pressures to prioritize strategic autonomy and might be cautious about deepening visible industrial collaboration with the United States. Acknowledging these dynamics, Washington should continue to expand SSA-based cooperation in ways that are operationally meaningful but politically sustainable—emphasizing trusted, scalable frameworks that allow interoperability gains without forcing binary political choices. Flexibility and strategic patience will be critical to reinforcing alliance cohesion while ensuring that allied defense industries remain aligned with US strategic objectives.

By leveraging SSA companies as integrators of transatlantic defense capabilities, the United States ensures that its allies remain militarily compatible while also strengthening its own defense export potential.

Why “Buy American” policies should not mean “buy alone”

The idea of promoting domestic defense production through “Buy American” policies is widely supported across the US political spectrum.28 However, any protectionist approach that might exclude SSA companies would be counterproductive. Instead of strengthening the US defense industrial base, such an approach would limit access to advanced technologies, increase procurement costs, and weaken defense ties with allies.

The reality is that the United States does not manufacture everything it needs within its own borders. In today’s global defense landscape, military technology development is inherently international, with key components, subsystems, and research collaborations spanning multiple countries.

For example, missile development, naval shipbuilding, and avionics technology all benefit from transatlantic collaboration.29 If the United States were to shut out SSA companies, it would lose access to advanced allied technologies and risk damaging its alliances with key defense partners. A more effective policy would be to balance national security with strategic openness, ensuring that SSA companies operate under strict conditions but remain part of the US defense ecosystem.

The SSA model and the future of defense technology

While traditional defense primes remain essential to US military power, the character of warfare is shifting toward the integration of AI-driven operations, electronic warfare (EW), space-based defense, and autonomous systems. The emergence of new defense technology companies, many of them global in scope, demands an SSA model that can accommodate nontraditional defense players. Indeed, many of the most cutting-edge dual-use and single-use military technologies—particularly in cybersecurity, AI, and battlefield intelligence—are being developed by non-US companies, many based in Israel and Ukraine. SSAs provide a mechanism for bringing such companies into a US defense context.

Why SSAs are essential for emerging defense technologies

The SSA framework could help facilitate the integration of emerging foreign defense technologies, especially where the United States stands to gain from technologies advanced in the context of active battlefields overseas or through peacetime international defense co-production efforts.

The war in Ukraine has driven extraordinary advancements in drones, battlefield AI, and electronic warfare. Regardless of whether and when it moves toward a ceasefire, Ukraine’s burgeoning defense technology sector will need investment to commercialize and scale its capabilities.30 A streamlined, tailored SSA framework—featuring faster processing, simplified compliance, and strategic prioritization—could provide a pathway for Ukrainian defense startups to integrate into US military development pipelines and ensure that battlefield-proven technologies and talent are retained within the US and NATO defense ecosystem, rather than being lost due to uncertainty, dispersion, or demobilization if the conflict enters a lower-intensity or politically unsettled phase. Indeed, this technology backflow should be seen as an important return on US and allied investment in Ukrainian security.

Additionally, SSAs could play a critical role in strengthening the AUKUS alliance between Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States, which is central to Indo-Pacific security and deterrence against China.31 To advance AUKUS Pillar II cooperation on AI-enabled warfare, quantum technologies, and next-generation naval capabilities, Washington should encourage more UK and Australian defense tech firms to establish US-incorporated subsidiaries operating under SSAs. This would enable trusted collaboration within a US legal and security framework, ensuring that emerging AUKUS technologies are interoperable, export compliant, and developed in coordination with US national security priorities.

Policy recommendations to maximize SSA benefits

By refining SSA policies, streamlining regulations, and strategically leveraging foreign investment, the United States can ensure that SSA companies remain an asset to national security. To that end, the following proposals are recommended.

  1. Coordinate export strategies with SSA-governed firms.
    • The State Department and DOD should better align export approvals and timelines for foreign defense companies offering systems with critical technology that are part of broader allied production chains.
    • Much of this coordination challenge relates to International Traffic in Arms Regulations (ITAR), which govern the export of US-origin defense technologies. Inconsistent or delayed licensing processes can disadvantage SSA-governed companies in international competitions, even when they operate under strict US oversight.
    • By harmonizing these strategies, Washington can ensure that allied defense firms operating under US jurisdiction strengthen—rather than undercut—US arms sales and industrial influence abroad.
  2. Use SSA companies to expand US access to global defense markets.
    • For political and regulatory reasons, many foreign nations prefer to buy military equipment from manufacturers in their own country or region rather than US companies.
    • SSA companies provide a gateway for US defense companies to enter foreign procurement programs, as they can serve as a bridge between US technology and international market demands through various prime and subcontractor relationships.
    • Washington could negotiate preferential procurement agreements with foreign governments, ensuring that SSA companies facilitate greater integration between US and global defense industries.
  3. Counter Chinese and Russian arms sales with SSA-backed defense agreements.
    • Both China and Russia are aggressively expanding their arms exports to developing nations, particularly in the Middle East, Africa, and Asia.
    • SSA companies could be used as a strategic tool to counter these sales by promoting joint US-European defense solutions in regions where China and Russia seek influence.
    • By offering SSA-backed defense agreements to strategic partners and their industry, the United States could reinforce global military alliances while limiting the reach of adversarial arms suppliers.

Streamlining SSA approval processes to encourage more investment

While SSAs provide a strategic advantage, the bureaucratic process for approving them is often slow and complex, discouraging foreign investment in US defense. Washington must balance national security concerns with a regulatory environment that encourages trusted allied companies to invest in the United States.

To fully leverage SSAs for US military, economic, and strategic advantage, policymakers should do the following.

  1. Establish a clearer and faster SSA approval process.
    • The current SSA approval process can take years, potentially discouraging allied companies from pursuing US investments. This is particularly relevant for allies and partners in the Indo-Pacific that might seek closer collaboration with the United States and thus use SSAs as a tool to help achieve such collaboration.
    • A more efficient approval system, with clear timelines and security benchmarks, would encourage greater FDI in US defense without compromising national security.
  2. Elevate SSA-governed companies within US defense industrial strategy.
    • The DOD should establish a formal mechanism to integrate SSA-governed companies into broader defense industrial base planning, export strategy, and capability development frameworks. While the DCSA should continue to lead oversight and security compliance, a dedicated policy coordination function is needed to ensure these firms are recognized not just as compliant entities, but as strategic assets within the allied defense ecosystem.
    • SSA companies often possess advanced technologies, global supply chains, and R&D capabilities that are directly relevant to US modernization priorities. However, without a clear point of integration within DOD policy structures, these companies risk being under-leveraged or misunderstood—particularly when navigating export approvals, joint programs, or eligibility for domestic production incentives.
    • Establishing a policy focal point inside the DOD could help ensure that SSA-governed companies are factored into key decisions—such as National Technology and Industrial Base (NTIB) planning, trusted capital pathways, or Defense Production Act Title III investments.
    • This approach would not impose new compliance burdens but would instead unlock strategic value from firms that are already trusted, cleared, and operating under US law. It would also help align the SSA framework with US goals to expand allied production capacity, improve supply chain resilience, and strengthen transatlantic defense collaboration.
  3. Expand SSAs to include emerging defense tech companies.
    • Create a specialized SSA pathway for US-prioritized emerging technologies—such as AI, space, quantum, and counter-hypersonics— ensuring US access to cutting-edge military innovations.
    • Create narrowly scoped ITAR exemptions or expedited licensing pathways for SSA-governed US companies engaged in co-development of AI and hypersonic technologies with trusted allies—in which the end users are pre-cleared partner governments and the programs fall within strategic initiatives such as AUKUS Pillar II.
    • Establish a transatlantic SSA Innovation Task Force to coordinate technology integration policy, streamline FOCI mitigation practices, and align US and European defense industrial innovation—particularly in areas such as AI, space, and next-generation munitions.
  4. Establish a post-war SSA program for Ukrainian defense startups.
    • A streamlined, tailored SSA framework—featuring faster processing, simplified compliance, and strategic prioritization—could allow Ukrainian companies to integrate into US and NATO procurement at the speed of relevance.
  5. Use SSAs to deepen AUKUS defense collaboration.
    • Encourage greater participation by UK and Australian defense tech firms in US-based SSA structures by improving standardization, accelerating approval timelines, and clarifying long-term strategic pathways—helping build the trust and predictability needed to deepen transatlantic and Indo-Pacific cooperation in the face of growing strategic competition with China.
  6. Strengthen supply chain risk management for SSA-governed firms.
    • SSA companies are already subject to US supply chain security requirements, including restrictions under Section 889 of the fiscal year (FY) 2019 NDAA and the “Drone Act” provisions of the FY2024 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA).32 The DOD should better integrate SSA firms into its broader supply chain risk management ecosystem—providing access to tools such as the Supply Chain Illumination initiative.33
    • Where critical dependencies persist—such as in rare earths, semiconductors, or specialized components—the Office of Industrial Base Policy should consider targeted support through Defense Production Act (DPA) Title III funding, NTIB co-production, or advance purchase commitments. These instruments can help SSA firms transition to secure allied sources without disrupting program timelines.
    • Finally, the GSC structure could be leveraged to include annual supply chain risk mitigation plans, aligned with DOD cyber and export control standards. This would reinforce the GSC’s strategic role while enhancing transparency and resilience across the industrial base.

Pathfinder projects for further SSA integration

To fully capitalize on the SSA model, the United States and its allies must actively integrate SSA companies into priority defense initiatives. This report proposes the following Pathfinder Projects to provide a structured way to demonstrate and expand the role of SSA companies in strengthening US security capabilities, ensuring they are leveraged not just as industrial assets but as strategic enablers of next-generation defense cooperation. These projects will also help address regulatory, operational, and policy constraints that currently limit the full potential of transatlantic defense collaboration.

Each Pathfinder Project outlined below is designed to tackle a critical defense challenge, illustrating how SSA companies can provide a competitive advantage and what specific steps are required to implement them effectively.

1. AI-driven multi-domain ISR: Closing transatlantic intelligence gaps

The next generation of warfare requires real-time, multi-domain intelligence fusion across space, cyber, air, land, and sea. While US ISR capabilities remain formidable, foreign companies are pioneering AI-enhanced sensor fusion and passive detection technologies that could significantly enhance allied intelligence-sharing and decision-making capabilities.

  • US ISR remains platform-centric, whereas foreign SSA companies offer advanced AI-driven networked surveillance architectures.
  • SSA companies can act as controlled integration nodes, ensuring secure and compliant transfer of foreign ISR innovations into US and NATO battle networks.
  • The SSA model allows NATO-wide standardization of ISR fusion algorithms without exposing classified US ISR systems to foreign influence.
  • Establish a DOD ISR Task Force to oversee SSA-led AI sensor fusion standardization.
  • Integrate SSA companies into US ISR modernization programs to enable dual-use AI for intelligence sharing.
  • Address ITAR barriers for ISR data sharing, ensuring that SSA companies can legally contribute to AI-driven intelligence collaboration.

Hypersonic missile threats are one of the most urgent challenges facing the United States and its NATO allies. While the United States has invested in kinetic interceptors (THAAD, SM-6, Glide Phase Interceptor), foreign companies have developed complementary countermeasure capabilities, electronic warfare-based tracking, and multi-layered interceptor concepts.

  • Foreign SSA subsidiaries can integrate their sensor-fusion algorithms into US hypersonic defense architectures, improving target tracking and kill chain efficiency.
  • SSAs enable secure and controlled software integration, preventing siloed national defense solutions that weaken NATO missile defense coordination.
  • Without SSA collaboration, allied and partners could independently develop competing missile defense systems, leading to fragmented capabilities.
  • Mandate SSA participation in the Pentagon’s Hypersonic Defense Program, ensuring European tracking systems integrate with US missile defense platforms.
  • Launch a joint US–European Hypersonic Task Force focused on aligning missile defense tracking architectures and addressing shared capability gaps. As trusted foreign firms demonstrate the ability to contribute, US agencies should facilitate SSA participation through a more transparent and predictable process—making it clear that integration into sensitive US defense efforts is both strategically necessary and procedurally achievable.
  • Refine ITAR implementation guidelines to establish a dedicated, fast-tracked review process for SSA-governed firms contributing to counter-hypersonic technologies—enabling secure transatlantic collaboration while maintaining US export control authority and national security safeguards.

US and NATO maritime forces face increasing pressure from near-peer adversaries utilizing swarms of unmanned surface and underwater vehicles (USVs/UUVs) to contest sea lanes. While the US Navy has initiated its Distributed Maritime Operations (DMO) strategy, foreign companies are further ahead in developing operational AI-driven naval swarm technologies.

  • SSA companies can fast-track integration of European unmanned maritime platforms into NATO naval task forces.
  • The SSA framework prevents technology transfer barriers, ensuring that European autonomous naval systems are interoperable with US networks.
  • SSA companies allow controlled software and algorithm sharing, ensuring AI-based unmanned platforms comply with US and NATO cyber standards.
  • Designate SSA companies as key partners in the US Navy’s Disruptive Capabilities Office, enabling joint development of autonomous maritime security systems.
  • The Pentagon should establish a Maritime AI Lab focused on developing and fielding autonomous naval systems, with structured participation from SSA-governed firms—enabling secure integration of allied technologies into US and coalition naval operations.
  • Streamline ITAR and Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States (CFIUS) approval for unmanned naval technologies, prioritizing SSA companies for expedited integration into US naval programs.

The battlefield of the future is increasingly digital, with adversaries leveraging AI-enhanced cyberattacks, electronic jamming, and digital deception. SSA companies have pioneered AI-led cyber deception tools, adaptive EW jamming, and quantum-resistant encryption, which could significantly enhance US and NATO cyber resilience.

  • SSAs allow foreign-owned companies to contribute to NATO-aligned AI-enabled cyber defense solutions, while ensuring compliance with US national security protocols governing access to classified systems and information.
  • US and European cyber capabilities remain fragmented—SSA companies provide a secure bridge for coordinated cyber-EW collaboration.
  • SSA companies can be tasked with joint development of AI-driven EW standards, ensuring future-proofed US and NATO digital defenses.
  • Create a Cyber and Electronic Warfare Task Force composed of SSA-governed companies, operating under US Cyber Command oversight, to integrate AI-enabled cyber resilience tools in alignment with NATO’s Cyber Defense Policy and in coordination with NATO’s center for cyber expertise.
  • Expand SSA participation in the DOD’s Joint AI Cyber Operations Initiative, ensuring transatlantic AI cyber defenses remain interoperable.
  • Update ITAR to address the classification and licensing of AI-driven cyber defense tools—ensuring SSA-governed companies can contribute to secure transatlantic integration without breaching US export control rules or delaying iterative software development cycles.

Conclusion: Reforming SSA policy to enable scalable implementation

In this era, the United States cannot afford to take an isolationist approach to defense procurement. Military technology is increasingly global in scope, and the United States’ ability to maintain its technological edge depends on strategically integrating the best capabilities from trusted allies while maintaining rigorous security controls.

SSAs provide a controlled and secure framework that allows the United States to benefit from foreign investment, increase industrial capacity, and enhance military readiness—without compromising national security. Instead of viewing SSA companies as a threat, Washington should leverage them as a force multiplier for US defense superiority.

A smart “America First” strategy does not mean closing the door on allied defense companies. It means ensuring that every dollar of defense spending strengthens US national security while keeping the United States at the forefront of military innovation. SSAs achieve this goal—enhancing US military strength, reinforcing transatlantic and Pacific alliances, and ensuring that the United States continues to set the global standard for defense excellence.

Supported by

Forward Defense is grateful to Airbus Americas, Inc. for its support of this report.

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1     Steve Brock, “Strengthening the Allied Industrial Base,” Hudson Institute, October 17, 2024, https://www.hudson.org/events/strengthening-allied-industrial-base-nadia-schadlow-bryan-clark
2     “Defense Industrial Security: Special Security Agreements Permit Foreign-owned U.S. Firms to Perform Classified Defense Contracts,” United States General Accounting Office, March 21, 1990, https://www.gao.gov/products/t-nsiad-90-17
3    Elodie Collins, “Rheinmetall Expands Presence in US Defense Market with $950M Acquisition of Loc Performance Products,” GovConWire, December 3, 2024, https://www.govconwire.com/2024/12/rheinmetall-loc-performance-products-acquisition/
4    Jen Judson, “Norway’s Kongsberg to open new Virginia missile production plant,” DefenseNews, September 17, 2024, https://www.defensenews.com/global/europe/2024/09/17/norways-kongsberg-to-open-new-virginia-missile-production-plant/
5    “Critical Materials Are in High Demand. What is DOD Doing to Secure the Supply Chain and Stockpile These Resources?” US Government Accountability Office, September 12, 2024, https://www.gao.gov/blog/critical-materials-are-high-demand.-what-dod-doing-secure-supply-chain-and-stockpile-these-resources; “How Japan Solved Its Rare Earth Minerals Dependency Issue,” World Economic Forum, October 13, 2023, https://www.weforum.org/stories/2023/10/japan-rare-earth-minerals
6    Seth G. Jones, “The U.S. Defense Industrial Base Is Not Prepared for a Possible Conflict with China,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, February 22, 2023, https://features.csis.org/preparing-the-US-industrial-base-to-deter-conflict-with-China/
7    David Hutchins, Shaun McDougall, and Jon Helmer, “Steel and Strategy: America’s Shipbuilding Plans Enter Stormy Waters,” Defense and Security Monitor, January 15, 2025, https://dsm.forecastinternational.com/2025/01/15/steel-and-strategy-americas-shipbuilding-plans-enter-stormy-waters
8    “Leonardo DRS Awarded $117 Million Production Order for Family of Weapon Sights,” Leonardo DRS, August 27, 2024, https://www.leonardodrs.com/news/press-releases/leonardo-drs-awarded-117-million-production-order-for-family-of-weapon-sights/; David Simonetta, “Trade Compliance Manual Policy,” Leonardo Electronics, https://www.leonardo.us/hubfs/EXP-100 Rev 12 Trade Compliance Manual.pdf
9     Riley Johnson, “Elbit Systems expands in Roanoke, growing to over 1,000 employees with $30M boost,” Nexstar Media, November 12, 2025, https://www.wfxrtv.com/roanoke-county/elbit-systems-expands-in-roanoke-growing-to-over-1000-employees-with-30m-boost/
10    Connie O’Connell, “Direct Investment by Country and Industry, 2023,” Bureau of Economic Analysis, Table 9, July 23, 2024, https://www.bea.gov/sites/default/files/2024-07/dici0724.pdf
11    Ibid., Table 9
12    Ibid., Chart 1
13    Accrete, “The Silent Threat: How Foreign Influence Undermines America’s Defense Industrial Base,” April 29, 2025, https://www.accrete.ai/blog/the-silent-threat#:~:text=While%20foreign%20investment%20can%20provide,Chain%20Vulnerabilities:%20A%20Trojan%20Horse
14     House Committee on Appropriations, “House Passes FY26 Defense Bill, Investing in America’s Military Superiority,” US House of Representatives, July 18, 2025, https://appropriations.house.gov/news/press-releases/house-passes-fy26-defense-bill-investing-americas-military-superiority
15    United States General Accounting Office, “Defense Industrial Security: Special Security Agreements Permit Foreign-owned U.S. Firms to Perform Classified Defense Contracts,” Testimony for the Armed Services House of Representatives, US Congress, March 21, 1990, https://www.gao.gov/products/t-nsiad-90-17
16    Lindsay I. McCarl, “Foreign Competition in U.S. Defense Contracts: Why the U.S. Government Should Favor Domestic Companies in Awarding Major Defense Procurement and Acquisition Contracts,” Global Business and Development Law Journal 24, 1 (2011), https://scholarlycommons.pacific.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1069&context=globe
17    R. J. Caster, “What ‘America First’ Actually Means for Defense Contractors,” American Conservative, December 27, 2021, https://www.theamericanconservative.com/what-america-first-actually-means-for-defense-contractors/
18    Gordon Lubold, “Congress, Boeing riled by huge defense contract for foreign firm,” The Christian Science Monitor, March 7, 2008, https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Military/2008/0307/p02s01-usmi.html
19    Alexandra G. Neenan, “Department of Defense Contractors and Efforts to Mitigate Foreign Influence,” Congressional Research Service, June 24, 2024, https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/R/R48110
20     Daniel B. Pickard, “Navigating the Law: The Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency (DCSA) and Foreign Ownership, Control or Influence (FOCI) Handbook,” International Trade & National Security Practice Group, September 2023, https://www.bipc.com/assets/PDFs/Insights/DCSA%20FOCI%20Handbook-International_Trade_National_Security-Navigating_the_Law_Foreign_Agents_Registration_Act_2023-LOW_RES%20-%20FINAL%20-%20Rev%209.27.23.pdf
21     Washington Tariff & Trade Letter, “DCSA Set to Expand Foreign Ownership Reviews to Unclassified Defense Contracts,” April 15, 2025, https://www.wttlonline.com/stories/dcsa-set-to-expand-foreign-ownership-reviews-to-unclassified-defense-contracts,13683
22     Jonathan Masters, James McBride, and Noah Berman, “What Happens When Foreign Investment Becomes a Security Risk?” January 2, 2023, https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/what-happens-when-foreign-investment-becomes-security-risk#chapter-title-0-3.
23     Kurt Scherer and Faith Ozmen, “Maintaining the U.S. Defense Sector’s Competitive Edge,” War on the Rocks, July 18, 2023, https://warontherocks.com/2023/07/maintaining-the-u-s-defense-sectors-competitive-edge/
24     Kaush Arha, Peter Harrell, and Jorn Fleck, “Securing a Free and Open World: A US-EU Blueprint to Counter China and Russia,” Atlantic Council, January 15, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/securing-a-free-and-open-world-a-us-eu-blueprint-to-counter-china-and-russia/
25     Steven Mills, “Strengthening Defence Operations,” SecureCloud+, October 4, 2023, https://securecloudplus.co.uk/strengthening-defence-operations.
26     “First-ever European Defence Industrial Strategy to Enhance Europe’s Readiness and Security,” European Commission Directorate-General for Communication, March 5, 2024, https://commission.europa.eu/news/first-ever-european-defence-industrial-strategy-enhance-europes-readiness-and-security-2024-03-05_en
27     “Enhancing Interoperability: Train Together, Deploy Together,” European Defence Agency, European Defence Matters 19 (2020),https://eda.europa.eu/docs/default-source/eda-magazine/edm19_web.pdf
28     Luke A. Nicastro, “The U.S. Defense Industrial Base: Background and Issues for Congress,” Congressional Research Service, September 23, 2024, https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/R/R47751
29     “Written Evidence Submitted by GE Aerospace,” Defense Committee, UK Parliament, January 17, 2025, https://committees.parliament.uk/writtenevidence/134814/html/.
30     “European and Ukrainian Parliamentarians Collaborate to Strengthen Defense Cooperation,” We Build Ukraine Fund, last visited August 27, 2025, https://www.webuildukrainefund.org/post/european-and-ukrainian-parliamentarians-collaborate-to-strengthen-defense-cooperation.
31     Louisa Brooke-Holland, “AUKUS Pillar 2: Advanced Capabilities,” House of Commons Library, UK Parliament, September 2, 2024, https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/cbp-9842.
32     Charles A. Blanchard, et al., “FY24 NDAA: Navigating Expanded Restrictions on DoD Contracting, Buy American Provisions, and Other Key National Security Provisions,” Arnold & Porter, December 22, 2023, https://www.arnoldporter.com/en/perspectives/advisories/2023/12/fy24-ndaa-navigating-expanded-restrictions; “Section 889 Policies,” US General Services Administration, last visited August 27, 2025, https://www.acquisition.gov/Section-889-Policies.
33     “Supply Chain Illumination in the Department of Defense ‘Leveraging Private-Sector Best Practices to Enhance DoD Supply Chain Visibility and Decision Making,’” Defense Business Board, Office of the Secretary of Defense, January 13, 2025, https://dbb.defense.gov/Portals/35/Documents/Reports/2025/Final%20Stamped%20-%20DBB%20Supply%20Chain%20Illumination%20-%201-15-25%20-%20Report.pdf.

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Negotiating with Putin’s Russia https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/russia-tomorrow/negotiating-with-putins-russia/ Wed, 18 Feb 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=905671 The latest report in the Atlantic Council's Russia Tomorrow examines Russia’s negotiating tactics and how the US can adjust its diplomatic strategies in turn.

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Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 challenged much of the common Western understanding of Russia. How can the world better understand Russia? What are the steps forward for Western policy? The Eurasia Center’s “Russia Tomorrow” series seeks to reevaluate conceptions of Russia today and better prepare for its future tomorrow.

Toplines

  • Russia has a markedly different approach to diplomatic negotiations than the United States. For Russian leaders, negotiations are a form of warfare by nonmilitary means, a competition that they seek to win with few or no compromises.
  • The Kremlin’s views of negotiations are also powerfully shaped today by the elites’ attitudes toward a rules-based international system, which they view as inimical to Russian interests and in need of a radical overhaul. They see the United States as being in a prolonged period of decline, a view they believe provides opportunities for Russia to exploit.
  • The United States can significantly empower itself in negotiations by better understanding the sources and range of Moscow’s behaviors at the table and adapting effective counter-measures. It can temper the impact of the Kremlin’s tactics and advance progress toward lasting agreements by selecting and shaping the negotiating environment. Success should not be defined by seeking good relations or a good deal as ends in themselves, but by negotiating in a way that advances US foreign policy goals.

Table of contents

A diplomat’s words must contradict his deeds—otherwise what sort of a diplomat is he? Words are one thing, deeds something entirely different. Fine words are a mask to cover shady deeds. A sincere diplomat is like dry water or wooden iron.

—Josef Stalin, “Elections in Petersburg”

The Alaska summit, held in Anchorage on August 15, 2025, brought together Presidents Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin for a widely publicized but inconclusive meeting. This was Putin’s first visit to the United States since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. The Russian delegation, under Putin’s leadership, used the meeting to define a new relationship between the United States and Russia and showcase Russia’s place in the world.

Putin had specific objectives in Alaska.

  • He aimed to position Russia as a global power on par with the United States, excluding Ukraine and other European allies.
  • He intended to use the summit to strengthen Russia’s control over parts of Ukraine, preventing it from hosting Western troops and keeping it locked outside of NATO.
  • He hoped to leverage the summit to persuade the United States to postpone or defer the implementation of additional sanctions.
  • He intended to leverage the summit to underscore Russia’s historical and cultural connections to the United States and Ukraine, portraying the conflict as “a family tragedy” rather than an invasion, and to compel Kyiv to capitulate by exhausting its forces.
  • He sought to effectively engage Trump on a personal level, presenting the talks as a starting point, giving the impression of progress while avoiding any concrete agreements that would require Russian concessions. This narrative could potentially help him exploit potential divisions between the United States and European leaders, who are more aligned with Ukraine’s position.

Russia’s negotiating tactics in pursuit of the objectives were a master class of strategic positioning.

  • Putin engaged in flattery and appealed to Trump’s stated desire to make deals. By presenting economic and strategic opportunities, such as joint Arctic development, Putin created a dynamic in which Trump focused on a potential deal rather than a clear resolution to the conflict in Ukraine. Putin’s personal approach appealed to his counterpart’s focus on overarching gains, encouraging him to overlook the importance of intermediate details. This psychological tactic appeared intended to give Russia a negotiating advantage.
  • Putin forwarded maximalist demands—such as Ukraine’s neutrality, recognition of seized territory, and handing over Ukrainian land under Russia’s control—framing them as a basis for peace. He probably expected some of his proposals, like resuming direct flights and major economic deals, to be rejected by the United States. But these proposals helped present a narrative in Russian media that Moscow was seeking normalization of relations.

This approach also had some setbacks. Putin’s extended “history rant” at the summit—offered as a justification for the war and as a dismissal of cease-fire proposals—nearly brought him to failure in talks. According to the Financial Times, Putin launched into a long discourse on Russia’s medieval past, invoking figures such as Rurik of Novgorod, Yaroslav the Wise, and Cossack leader Bohdan Khmelnytsky—names he frequently uses to argue that Russia and Ukraine constitute a single historical nation and that Ukraine should not exist as a sovereign state. Sources familiar with the exchange told the newspaper that Trump, surprised by the lecture, raised his voice several times and at one point even threatened to leave the meeting. It is also not clear why the long agenda for the day was cut short and the Russian delegation left before the planned lunch.

Overall, Putin’s approach to the meeting once again demonstrated a broader tactic of undermining the US-led global order, asserting Russia’s historically driven special place in the international system, and challenging institutions like NATO. By bringing issues affecting European security to negotiate bilaterally with the United States, he implicitly wanted to restore the “big powers’ deals” approach and de-emphasize the role of other important stakeholders, including Europe and multilateral bodies such as NATO.

While Trump publicly described the summit as productive, it resulted in little tangible progress. Despite Trump’s stated goal of securing a cease-fire in Ukraine, one was not reached. Putin refused to back down from Russia’s core demands. As a former KGB officer, Putin views diplomacy as a battle of narratives: Russian state media portrayed the summit as a win for Moscow, showing Putin meeting the US leader as an equal. They hailed the summit as a demonstration that Russia was not isolated. Indeed, simply having a summit with the US president made it a success. It boosted Putin’s international image and pretended to demonstrate Russia’s continued relevance as a global power.

Russia’s negotiating behavior in Alaska was true to Moscow’s long-standing playbook. It demonstrated Moscow’s view that diplomacy is a means to gain an advantage in war (broadly construed), rather than to achieve peace, maintain stability, or compromise with other interested parties.” Indeed, Putin’s activity at the summit aligns with the Kremlin’s broader history of using such meetings not as forums for compromise but as tactical opportunities to advance long-term strategic goals.

This report will examine that negotiating playbook, and not just as it applies to Ukraine. First, it will analyze Russian strategic culture, which provides the broad context for Russian diplomatic activity. Second, it will examine how that culture is reflected at the negotiating table with its adversaries, particularly the United States. Finally, the report will suggest effective countermeasures for the United States to significantly empower itself in negotiations with Russia. It will conclude that success should not be defined by seeking good relations or a good deal as ends in themselves, but by negotiating in a way that advances US foreign policy objectives. Above all, the United States must project firmness and strength in any dealings with the Kremlin.

Clash of strategic culture

The Russian state treats negotiations as political instruments for advancing the country’s strategic objectives. Today, these objectives include increasing Russian power over the countries of the former Soviet empire, dislodging US and Western influence in other strategic regions, enhancing Russia’s influence at a global level, and preserving the Russian regime.

In pursuing these objectives, Russia views diplomacy very differently than the West. Since at least the 1648 Treaty of Westphalia, Western diplomacy—though likely not an approach favored by Trump—has been grounded in three basic concepts: that all states are sovereign and thus nominally equal; that the purpose of negotiations is to reduce the likelihood of conflict by reconciling conflicting interests; and that diplomacy and espionage are separate domains so deception is not part of the negotiator’s tool kit.

Russia shares none of these premises. In the Russian diplomatic tradition, sovereignty is a relative and contingent factor dependent upon size and power (i.e., it is only applicable to the very largest states), as well as geographic and historical factors. It does not apply to former colonial possessions close to the traditional Russian imperial heartland. This long-standing outlook derives from the Russian state’s historical experience of seeking domination over weaker neighbors. Recent articulations of this outlook include Putin’s seven-thousand-word editorial essay on Ukraine in July 2021, his address to the Russian people in June 2022, and his interview with US commentator Tucker Carlson in February 2024. Russian international relations theory and commentary talk about great powers such as Russia as the only truly sovereign states.

Russia’s view of negotiations also stems from its distinctive view of war and peace. The West sees war and peace in black and white—as diametrically opposed ideas. In Russia, war and peace exist on the same continuum. Negotiations are a means to provide the Kremlin with an edge in a competitive process that can, theoretically, lead to conflict.

Russian diplomacy today continues these premises from the imperial era. Russian elites have a long-standing consensus about the state’s legitimate and necessary foreign policy goals—a strategic culture that “is a product of a country’s geography, history, and the shared narratives that shape the prevailing worldview of its national security establishment, which in turn guides its responses to challenges and threats.” Moscow’s diplomatic behavior and policy are thus influenced by a set of shared, deeply ingrained “norms, values, beliefs, assumptions, and narratives” about Russian national security in the broadest sense, both internally and externally.

Narratives under the imperial, Soviet, or current regime have focused on encirclement by external enemies, as well as Russia’s exceptionalism and special mission in the world. The operational codes of different Russian decision-makers over the decades—their personal beliefs and appetite for risk or enrichment—as well as the external environment and chance have also determined how different regimes approached specific policy goals within this general strategic framework. Boris Yeltsin and Putin, for example, both sought to make Russia a great power and to dominate Ukraine, but differed markedly in how to do so.

The impact of strategic culture has ebbed and flowed. After Mikhail Gorbachev, its influence waned, and Soviet foreign policy and negotiating behavior momentarily resembled the win-win approach long practiced by the West. This led to Russia and the United States achieving important arms control agreements and cooperation in other areas. Between 1992–1996 under Yeltsin, a majority of the public and elites accepted ideas that were firmly at odds with traditional Russian strategic culture: that Russia must become a “normal” law-abiding democracy with a market economy; integrate with the West; and maintain a robust Russian military—not for external threats but to prevent internal collapse.

In the final years of Yeltsin’s presidency (i.e., 1996–1999), more Russian elites and the public started to re-embrace traditional strategic culture. Perceptions of threats from the West and resentment about Russia’s lost status grew, partly because of NATO enlargement and intervention in Serbia. Russians blamed Western leaders, advisers, and greedy businesses for the “bandit privatization and capitalism” in the 1990s that left the majority of Russians impoverished and engendered a despised class of wealthy, politically influential oligarchs. The Kremlin’s view of negotiations has always reflected the overall state of its relations with the West—so new agreements became harder to achieve while those already in place began to unravel.

After Putin became president in 2000, some cooperation with the West continued. However, Russian foreign policy continued reverting to its more traditional anti-Western orientation, blurring imperial tsarist and Soviet ideas about Russia’s exceptionalism and invented threats to the state, alongside rising post-Cold War grievances and the increasing militarization of society. The revival of the special services drove this approach. The Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), Federal Security Service (FSB), and Federal Protective Service (FSO)—which reported to Putin directly —and the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces (the military intelligence organization still widely known by its outdated acronym GRU) increasingly merged power, nationalism, imperialism, secrecy, and business, and did so with the president’s encouragement. These siloviki (men of force) descended from the old Soviet KGB; after all, Putin and his cronies were their products.

With the idealistic goal of building a democracy discredited in the eyes of many Russians, the intelligence services filled an ideological and institutional void by capturing the mantle of legitimacy once held by the discredited Soviet Communist Party. By the mid-2000s, these services were no longer the “sword and shield of the revolution,” in Lubyanka’s famous motto, but the regime’s institutional core—even as competition over power and money persisted. Unlike in the Soviet era, they were unencumbered by bureaucratic oversight because they ultimately reported directly to Putin. His return to the presidency in 2012 strengthened siloviki control over politics, money, the security services, and access to the Kremlin. As domestic repression increased and relations with the West worsened, Russia evolved further into an intelligence state, with Putin acting as the dominant Chekist at its center. He led a small circle of security service veterans who saw themselves as defending Russian civilization, a worldview symbolized by reports that he once kept a statue of secret police founder Felix Dzerzhinsky on his desk.

For Putin and his cronies, the Cold War never ended. Many public statements, such as those by Security Council Secretary Nikolay Patrushev and SVR chief Sergey Naryshkin, suggest that top leaders agree that the United States and Europe are Russia’s main enemies; the war in Ukraine is part of a broader global struggle against the West; the global system is irreversibly changing to the disadvantage of the United States; the United Nations, where Russia has veto power, should play a decisive role in helping great powers manage interstate relations; and Russia is a Eurasian civilization distinctly different from and threatened by the West.

These sentiments have been fertilized with the living Russian concept of psychohistorical warfare, which claims the West has been attempting to destroy Russia’s statehood, national and historical identity, and culture. Notoriously, modern Russian philosophers argue that this psychohistorical warfare of the West against Russia dates back to the sixteenth century and, since the 1820s, has been deliberately focused on ethnohistorical, national, cultural, and state and political components.

These attitudes reflect Russia’s traditional strategic culture. So when the Kremlin now engages in negotiations, it is less to compromise and mitigate conflict and more to invert Carl von Clausewitz’s axiom, to wage war by other means. Moscow engages in negotiations to lock in favorable battlefield outcomes or “stabilize gains;” leverage issues on which Russia has a vital national security interest to pursue wider objectives; offload burdens following a strategic reverse; sideline the United States and interpose Russia as a “peacemaker;” distract opponents while advancing militarily; constrain adversaries while keeping their options open; and advance Russia’s status in multilateral organizations as a great power.

This approach has also backfired. Russia’s cynicism and sharp elbows have undermined international goodwill, and its repeated violation of international agreements has caused concern about the Kremlin’s good faith and durability in negotiations. The blind spots in the Kremlin’s worldview have also caused Russian leaders to overestimate the effects of money, bluster, and overreach—and to pass up chances for better results through good-faith talks.

Still, the Kremlin’s anti-Western worldview does not drive every Russian position—and these views do not prevail among all elites or the entire government apparatus. The Kremlin can be highly pragmatic, transactional, and situational. Assessing which form of Russian behavior appears at the negotiating table and why is critical to shaping future bargaining outcomes in the West’s favor.

Russian behavior at the negotiating table: Theory and practice

How Russia acts at the negotiating table is a product of strategic culture, as well as a policy process involving the presidential administration, the foreign ministry, other government entities, the military, and think tank experts, among other participants. Putin makes the most critical decisions, especially on national security issues and relations with the United States, often relying on an ad hoc network of advisers rather than formal structures.

Russian delegations are well-prepared, but delegation members have been called “rats in a box” by opposing diplomats, as they often have little discretion to interpret instructions from Moscow. One of the most public of them, Deputy Foreign Minister Sergey Ryabkov (a major public player on US-Russian affairs), needed to answer “unofficially but completely” to the FSB and SVR, according to US Ambassador John J. Sullivan, who met him often. These two agencies are known for having a major say in negotiations; however, intelligence officers are often given a junior rank as a cover to watch developments and their own delegations. For example, in 2022 those agencies were responsible for undermining an agreement on diplomatic visa reciprocity.

Because the Kremlin believes it is engaged in multidimensional warfare with the West, its conduct admits a broader array of tactics far beyond compromise and win-win outcomes. These tactics are a combination of tsarist, Soviet, and more recent diplomacy and intelligence practices that keep the West off balance: “In preserving the power of the state in the person of Putin, Russian leadership . . . shamelessly advances any position or argument, no matter how counterfactual or ahistorical, that is useful to support Putin (the state) at any given moment.”

At the negotiating table: The Kremlin school

The rules governing how Russian diplomats behave at the table are codified and taught to generations of diplomats. Some of these lessons are contained as sequential steps in Igor Ryzov’s 2016 book, The Kremlin School of Negotiation.

  • Step 1: Stay quiet and listen attentively to what your opponent says. If one person is silent during a conversation, the other tends to fill the silence and say more than intended. It also allows the Russian interlocutor to focus on finding flaws in the opponent’s logic.
  • Step 2: Ask questions. Russian negotiators ask questions quickly, in an interrogatory manner, to establish control. Questions point out contradictions to make an opponent look silly and lose control of the agenda.
  • Step 3: Diminish your opponent. Being passive-aggressive, hostile, direct, and almost rude—or alternatively polite and soft-spoken—can undermine an opponent using fundamental human emotional triggers from positive to harmful extremes.
  • Step 4: Make magnanimous gestures. The Russian negotiator can then create a sense of relief by giving the opponent an honorable path to escape the unpleasantness by showing his magnanimity and considering a second chance for an opponent to prove he is worth dealing with.
  • Step 5: Put the opponent in the realm of uncertainty. While the preceding four steps are apparently enough to ensure psychological superiority in more than 90 percent of negotiations, finishing a conversation with constructive or destructive ambiguity is an efficient tool to hook an opponent in conflicting thoughts. Issuing a veiled threat of unspecified dire consequences, or hinting at a potentially good outcome conditioned on certain actions required to prove the opponent’s reliability, is a common practice within this model and is aimed at keeping control and leadership.

Similar themes, reinforcing the major postulates of the Kremlin School, are included in the curriculum at the Foreign Ministry’s Diplomatic Academy and at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations, where young diplomats are trained how to walk into a room, smile, pursue a conversation, frame an argument, and use the media.

Russian negotiation behavior includes additional tactics observed at the negotiating table.

  • Use legalism and vague legal language. In negotiations, Russian diplomats often have a firmer grasp of the particulars of international agreements than their counterparts. They use the pretense of legalism to burnish claims of legitimacy and play to the “gallery” of international audiences. Equally, while drafting agreements, they tend to leave provisions vague and open to as many interpretations as possible, especially clauses on breach definitions and penalties, in order to tinker with them later and serve Russian interests in the enforcement phase. For example, they did this with an agreement between Ukraine and the Russian Federation on cooperation in the exploitation of the Azov Sea and Kerch Strait, signed in December 2003, and in the Minsk Accords II.
  • Foster time and energy exhaustion. Russian diplomats aim to leave opponents so exhausted, disoriented, and unable to concentrate that they agree to suboptimal outcomes. The Soviets would overwhelm the other side by not taking restroom breaks or by timing other delegates’ speeches to apply pressure. Other examples include the Normandy format meeting on concluding the ill-fated Minsk-II agreements (which lasted more than sixteen hours), the US-Russia talks on energy, and Black Sea cease-fire in Saudi Arabia on March 25, 2025 (which lasted around twelve hours). Russian negotiators often field two teams of officials while counting on the other side to continue with already exhausted negotiators. Alternatively, they limit even complicated talks to a formal timeline when they are not interested. This occurred with two rounds of the Ukraine-Russia talks on a complex peace settlement on May 16, 2025 (which lasted less than two hours) and on June 2, 2025 (lasting forty-five minutes). Also notorious is a Russian custom to keep interlocutors waiting for hours before talks begin. This is particularly true for Russian leadership, but also for mid-ranking delegations.
  • Create urgent needs or too much motivation for the other side. The side with the more urgent need to resolve an issue is a priori in a weaker position, and the Russians are determined to create such a situation for the opponent before talks begin. For example, they used the encirclement and ambush of the Ukrainian column exiting Ilovaisk in August 2014 to extort concessions from Ukraine during the Minsk I negotiations. They also capitalized on the dire situation of Ukrainian forces at Debaltseve to secure more concessions at Minsk II, but repeatedly violated the cease-fire to secure advantages prior to formal negotiations. In the current war in Ukraine, Russian shelling and drone and missile attacks on Ukrainian civilians are a regular occurrence before the Ukrainian political leadership makes an important decision about the war.
  • Seek flexibility and one-way commitments. Russian negotiators relentlessly search for flexibility for themselves, even past the point of nominal agreement. They have a one-sided interpretation of rebus sic stantibus: in their eyes, once an agreement is made the conditions evaporate for Moscow but hold for the other side indefinitely. The Russians calculate that the West is more likely to abide by agreements and less able to cut loose of treaty obligations, even after Russian noncompliance. This likely motivated Russia to insist on NATO honoring the NATO-Russia Founding Act, and similar behavior with the Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE) Treaty, the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, and the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START).
  • Bluff and deceive. Russian negotiators attempt to create the impression that they are the most important, powerful side at the table—even if that is not the objective reality—and use disinformation to supplement this tactic. This approach is deeply embedded in their culture, as reflected in the famous Russian folk saying, “It does not matter who you are, but how you are perceived by others.” Lies and deception are justifiable tools to pursue the course of action. A recent example of this tactic is a fast-cooked fake about attacks by Ukrainian drones on the Valdai residence of the Russian president, which was denied by US intelligence after fact-checking. Nevertheless, the Russians used this as a pretext to change their commitments to a peace settlement and a justification of another deadly missile attack on civilians in Ukraine. The firewall that has existed between diplomats and spies for three hundred years in Western practice is absent in Russia. Spies operate under diplomatic cover, and Russian diplomats are encouraged to utilize the spy’s methods (maskirovka) to conceal, entrap, mislead, or swindle.
  • Engage in brinkmanship. Bravado is very popular in Russian culture. It is similar to the US macho “chicken” game but grounded in fatalism, blind luck, and the expectation that the other side will blink first. Moscow uses brinkmanship to force an interaction to the threshold of confrontation. For example, the Kremlin has repeatedly threatened to use nuclear weapons since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, even though there is little evidence that it will do so. The same approach has been applied with penetrating drones in Poland, intruding into the airspace of other countries in Northern Europe, and missile targets in Ukraine close to its western borders with NATO countries.
  • Denigrate an opponent. Rudeness is common to both distract an opponent from the substance of the talks and put them in a highly emotional state, unable to control themself and think clearly. For example, during the MH-17 case hearings in The Hague Court of Justice, a female member of the Ukrainian delegation raised concerns about Russia’s behavior. The head of the Russian delegation replied, “Oh, we see that you have some clear concerns” (using a Russian word with a dual meaning suggesting the woman had some sexual obsession).
  • Lay a principal-agent trap. Russian negotiators stall discussions by claiming they need extra time for consent from Moscow (which can be linked to the time and energy exhaustion tactic). After the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russia put forward a delegation with little authority. When presented with draft proposals for a future framework peace agreement in late March 2022, the Russian delegation took many weeks to respond.
  • Play the “too busy to be reached” game. Resort to an absent mode in negotiations by claiming to be preoccupied with other things, thus effectively blocking any efforts to move forward. Here Russian negotiators exploit their favorable tactics of “no body, no crime” (in practical terms, with “no person at the table, no progress in negotiations.”) Not responding to phone calls, making references to “no-sense” or “premature,” and avoiding contact seemed to be signatures of the Russian approach to Ukrainian political leadership between 2016 and 2019, when the latter tried to achieve a breakthrough in stalled Normandy and Minsk talks. Moscow also abstained from meetings in the defunct Normandy format before February 2022.
  • Move talks toward Russian views through deep anchoring. Russian negotiators advance highly unrealistic proposals at the beginning of talks and then press the other party to respond. This anchors the opponent around Russian views, moving discussions and a potential zone of agreement closer to the Russian position. In December 2021, Russia called for a new security order in Europe by submitting two unrealistic drafts to the United States and NATO, forcing them to consider and reflect on the Russian papers instead of quickly offering their own to balance discussions. Similarly, the Russians submitted a peace memorandum to the Ukrainian delegation on July 2, 2025, which was full of ultimatum demands, including the renunciation of territories including some not occupied by the Russian army. In contrast to good-faith diplomatic practice, in which a draft is submitted in advance with sufficient time for the other side to review it and form a preliminary reflection, the memorandum was handed over shortly before the talks, and the Russian delegation demanded the Ukrainian side respond immediately during negotiations.
  • Alter commitments. Russian diplomacy likes to deliver a low blow, a sudden change of terms when the other party expects a solution. An opponent might pay less attention to the details of an altered deal because it anticipates the completion of talks. In the 1990s, during negotiations over prolonging the stationing of the Russian Black Sea Fleet in Sevastopol, the Russian side initialed the agreement but then swapped one page of the original document with another to alter the terms in its favor. The Ukrainian delegation noticed the switch, and the ruse failed. The Russians might also deliver a low blow trick with the principal-agent trap by justifying the sudden withdrawal of previous commitments through appeals to the authority of an unnamed superior official. Alternatively, they might create an artificial pretext to change their commitments, as they did with the fake story of Ukrainian drone attacks on Putin’s Valdai residence as a cause for changing their negotiating position. The actual reason for that was the progress achieved following negotiations between the presidents of Ukraine and the United States at Mar-a-Lago, which the Russian political leadership tried to undermine.
  • Package a deal or trade-offs. Russia withholds agreement on one issue as a hostage to settling others. In the mid-1980s, the Soviet leadership refused to negotiate agreements on missile reductions without limiting the US Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). Only after bilateral tensions were reduced and Congress cut SDI’s budget did the Kremlin delink SDI from the INF Treaty. In 2023, Ryabkov objected to the United States “compartmentalizingstrategic stability from broader talks on Russia’s relations with the West. In the negotiations over the Black Sea Grain Initiative in 2022, Russia demanded that its agricultural exports, allegedly blocked due to Western sanctions, be eased before signing a new initiative while also increased other demands. In a similar way, in Anchorage, the Russians wanted to tie Trump’s interests to a bigger set of issues by promoting a US-Russian bilateral agenda mixed with issues of strategic stability in Europe and the war in Ukraine in one basket. By doing so, they sought to downplay the war in Ukraine as a minor issue subordinate to the broader picture of future mutual benefits.

The current state of play in Ukraine

With Trump’s reelection in 2024, the Russians were reportedly optimistic about their ability to handle the US political leadership. They then set out to play the United States with the Russian spiderweb of lies, deceits, and other psychological tricks to conceal the genuine goal of subordinating the entirety of Ukraine militarily and politically. Such a calculus was likely based on the assumption that Trump would have a profit-oriented, big-power mindset, coupled with the idea that he could be easily enchanted with flattery and captivated by prospects of prosperity once the issue of Ukraine was solved. Moscow was likely convinced that showing a friendly face and repeating the mantra of acting in good will to stop the war in Ukraine would serve its purpose and be enough to make Trump believe the Russian narrative. They partially succeeded. After a year in power, the US president might still believe that Russia is interested in peace. Fact-checking, however, provides compelling data about Russia’s actual position. All major peace proposals that the United States made in 2025 were rejected by Russia, whereas Ukraine backed every single one, signaling Kyiv’s willingness to engage in both cease-fires and long-term agreements.

In contrast to Ukraine, Russia has so far shown no willingness to compromise or step back from its initial demands. Its public readiness to consider any newly revised draft of a peace deal is offset by the Kremlin’s hardline position since the start of the full-scale invasion in 2022. However, the justification for taking this position has changed constantly, with the fake Valdai attack the most recent example. What hasn’t changed is the Kremlin has stuck to its usual negotiating tactics to ensure that the results of any talks to end the war tilt in its favor, while showing constructive and destructive ambiguity in talks with the United States, Ukraine, and Europe.

Many tricks from Russia’s negotiation toolbox can also be found in its current state of play.

  • Bluffing. Despite Russia’s manpower shortages, the exorbitant cost of the war, and serious morale problems in the armed forces, Kremlin information operations have stressed the inevitability of its military victory on the battlefield to convince the United States to pressure Ukraine to hand over the parts of the Donbas region that Russia has little chance of capturing on its own anytime soon.
  • Deception. Kremlin officials have claimed that Russia and the United States reached an understanding based on Putin’s June 2024 demands during the August 2025 summit in Alaska, but no evidence of any agreement has emerged since the summit.
  • Time and energy exhaustion. Ryabkov has stated that the Kremlin will not sign any peace agreements to end the war in Ukraine “right now,” even though US officials have repeatedly stated that an agreement is near and that Putin is interested in a settlement.
  • Deal packaging or trade-offs. Russia has held out the prospect of future economic cooperation and progress on arms control if the United States meets its demands regarding Ukraine.
  • Brinkmanship. Despite their own dangerous nuclear war rhetoric, Putin and Russian officials have repeatedly issued warnings that a direct conflict between Russia and NATO could lead to World War III or a global catastrophe, especially if the West continues to escalate support for Ukraine.
  • Hidden and explicit threats. During the last direct Ukraine-Russia talks on May 16, 2025, in Turkey, the head of the Russian delegation, Vladimir Medinsky, pushed Ukrainians to agree on the suggested terms of Russia claiming just four regions of Ukraine by saying that next time Russia would raise its demands and claim six. He also warned the Ukrainian delegation that “Russia was ready for an endless war against Ukraine” and that “some delegation members [of Ukraine] may lose more relatives” by the next time they meet.

Lessons learned and reconsidered

Above all, the West should understand that history, culture, and worldview make Moscow’s diplomatic theory and practice markedly different—including even the meanings of “war” and “peace.” The Kremlin is fully aware of these disparities and employs both traditionally Western and Russian strategies. The West is still largely illiterate regarding Russian tactics and does not play as equals—yet. But it is not too late to learn, and it is high time that countries engaging with Russia do so before becoming trapped in another prolonged diplomatic deadlock.

The recent US military operation in Venezuela opens an opportunity to force Russia to reconsider its strategic calculus of military adventurism in Ukraine. In military terms, this US projection of power in the Western Hemisphere could send a signal to the Russians that the United States can act in a decisive and harsh manner to ensure a desired outcome. Trump is determined to put an end to the war in Ukraine, but for this he would need the willingness of both parties in the conflict to engage and act in goodwill. Ultimately, the process is about personal political credentials and Trump’s promise to deliver a peace deal. Further testing of the US president could cost Russia not just its military and economic positioning, but the fate of the political regime.

At the same time, the shift in US focus to the Western Hemisphere might embolden Russia to tighten its grip on Ukraine. Russia might interpret this as a green light to act without accountability for promises made to the US side, as the latter might be preoccupied with security challenges other than what is happening in Ukraine. Recent brutal combined drone and missile attacks on Kyiv, the launch of a hypersonic Oreshnik missile on Lviv, and the rejection of any proposal for the presence of international reassurance force troops in Ukraine are all signs that Moscow is inclined to interpret the US stance on Ukraine as encouragement for further Russian aggression. This calculus could lead to a vicious circle of unfulfilled commitments and the inevitable failure of the peace talks, severely undermining Trump’s political prestige.

The tightening of sanctions under the Sanctioning Russia Act of 2025, which is still awaiting final passage, and resolute US actions against the Russian shadow fleet, providing Ukraine with means to advance militarily, might become the best US incentives to discourage Russia from playing dangerous games and to act responsibly.

Putin will only engage constructively in Ukraine when his strategic calculus indicates that it is in his best interest to do so. That calculus would be most effectively altered by a shift in US policy toward Kyiv’s empowerment. Ukraine should have the capability to disrupt Russian forces across air, land, and maritime domains at operational depths of roughly 30 kilometers (km) to 300 km behind the front. Such neutralization would make continued Russian offensive action increasingly ineffective. At the same time, this approach would free the United States to shift more of its military attention and resources toward defending the first island chain in the Indo-Pacific region: Japan, the Ryukyu Islands, Taiwan, and the northern Philippines.

Russia would experience a decline in power if Europe’s partnership with Ukraine intensifies. Secondary sanctions on states that purchase Russian oil, which funds the conflict, would exacerbate the diplomatic, informational, military, and economic pressure that erodes the intangible aspects of Russia’s great-power status. Additionally, societal disturbances inside Russia might result from the freezing or unreliability of banking transactions and the economic effects at home of secondary sanctions on the Russian energy sector. Three of Russia’s thirteen systemically important banks are presently pursuing bailout negotiations with the Central Bank of Russia, according to one report. Putin would also consider the potential social instability that could result. He might then see the conflict as effectively over and irrelevant, especially as Russia would be experiencing losses across the board and could conclude that negotiations are the least detrimental alternative. Or Putin could nonetheless continue to favor the certainty of a bad conflict over the unpredictability and perils of a good peace.

Being nice to Putin will likely yield few results and send the message that the United States is weak. Instead, the United States will need to apply a proactive approach to selecting and shaping the environment for negotiations with a clear tool kit and determination regarding the when, how, who, and what. The United States should also take advantage of the shortcomings and vulnerabilities in the Russian approach. Moscow’s sense of supremacy over rivals sometimes contributes to overestimating its strengths, leading to misreading and strategic mistakes. The Kremlin also values top-down coercion and does not fully understand civil society’s central role in shaping a country’s ability to sustain an agreement. Clear-eyed awareness of these weaknesses will help the United States make the most of its opportunities.

Read the full issue brief

About the authors

Donald N. Jensen is an adjunct professor at Johns Hopkins University’s Krieger School of Arts and Sciences and an adjunct fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies in Washington, DC, and the Gino Germani Institute in Rome. A former US diplomat in Moscow, Jensen provided technical support for the START, INF, and SDI negotiations and was a member of the first ten-person US inspection team to inspect Soviet missiles under the INF Treaty in 1988. From 1996–2008, he was associate director of broadcasting and head of the research division at Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, where he helped lead that organization’s expansion into new broadcast regions after the end of the Cold War and the adaptation of multimedia technology to deal with the broadcasting challenges of the twenty-first century. In 2016, he was a visiting scholar at the NATO Defense College in Rome.

From 2020–2025, he was senior fellow and director of Russia and Europe at the United States Institute of Peace.
Jensen writes extensively on the domestic, foreign, and security policies of Russia, Ukraine, and the other post-Soviet states, with a special emphasis on Russian negotiating behavior and national security policy. He also regularly appears as a commentator on domestic and international media. He has lectured at a variety of universities in the United States and abroad.

An award-winning baseball historian specializing in the Deadball Era and the nineteenth-century game, Jensen has written or co-authored numerous books and articles on the sport. He is a regular lecturer at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.

He is fluent in Russian and Italian and received his PhD and MA from Harvard and a BA from Columbia.

Iuliia Osmolovska is a director of the Kyiv office of GLOBSEC and a member of the Civil Council of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Ukraine. She was a career diplomat with fifteen years of diplomatic service at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Ukraine, with particular focus on EU integration and European security. Her past work for the governmental sector of Ukraine includes working for the Office of the President of Ukraine, as well as with the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine, channeling the communication between the government, the expert community, and civil society with regard to reforms in Ukraine.

Osmolovska has also done professional consulting and training in negotiations, for both political and commercial clients. Her experience also includes an advisory role with the Ukrainian state company Ukrspecexport, where she advised the top management on cooperation with NATO member states. 

Her areas of expertise include geopolitics, geoeconomics, international relations, negotiations and diplomacy, Ukrainian foreign policy, foreign economic policy, EU integration, European security and defense policy, and the EU-Ukraine Association Agreement

Osmolovska is a recognized media expert on international relations, diplomacy, and Russian-Ukrainian conflict. She appears regularly on TV and radio channels in Ukraine and internationally.

She holds a master’s of philosophy in European Studies from the University of Cambridge, a master’s in foreign policy from the Diplomatic Academy in Ukraine, and a master’s of international management from Kyiv State Economic University. Before the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2014, Osmolovska studied psychology and mediation of negotiations at St. Petersburg State University in Russia.

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Putin’s next move? Five Russian attack scenarios Europe must prepare for https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/putins-next-move-five-russian-attack-scenarios-europe-must-prepare-for/ Thu, 12 Feb 2026 17:30:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=897686 Whether emboldened by victory in Ukraine or motivated by a loss to pursue success elsewhere, Russian president Vladimir Putin is likely to continue his campaign of aggression. The Nordic and Baltic region, already subject to a campaign of intimidation, is in the Kremlin’s crosshairs—with these five places at greatest risk.

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Bottom lines up front

  • If Vladimir Putin can’t win a clear victory in Ukraine, he will seek one elsewhere; a clear victory in Ukraine would embolden Moscow to further aggression.
  • Europe must prepare to meet these threats with less American support.
  • The lowest risk option for Moscow—and therefore most likely—is Russian forces occupying Norway’s Svalbard archipelago.

Table of contents

The accession of Sweden and Finland as NATO’s newest members has fundamentally altered Russia’s security calculations in the Baltic and Nordic region. Should the war in Ukraine evolve into a prolonged frozen conflict, Russia will rearm its military in pursuit of Vladimir Putin’s imperial ambitions. He will seek opportunities to rebuild Russian prestige and recover former or disputed territories, improve Russia’s strategic posture, and test NATO’s resolve in Article 5 scenarios in which he assesses the chance of a robust Alliance response is low, or the chances of success at acceptable cost are high. As one expert notes, “Russia wants to expand its military and political opportunities in the face of the West and considers a direct clash with the West highly probable, if not unavoidable.”1

The potential rewards for continued and successful Russian aggression in Europe include enhanced prestige for Putin’s regime, an improved geostrategic position along Russia’s periphery, delivery of a damaging and perhaps fatal blow to NATO, and the severing of the transatlantic link—all of which are powerful incentives. To deter future Russian aggression, NATO should identify and address these challenges now with concrete solutions. If Putin succeeds in such tests the lack of an effective response could well fracture NATO, fundamentally altering the transatlantic security environment.2

Despite its war in Ukraine, Russia remains a formidable, capable, and determined adversary in possession of the world’s largest and strongest nuclear arsenal. As Western intelligence services have warned, the Russian military is reconstituting its forces in preparation for future contingencies. Senior NATO military and intelligence leaders regularly warn that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the near term is a serious threat.3 This study will assess five key scenarios in which Russia might seek to improve its geostrategic position in the Nordic-Baltic region—the most likely target for future Russian aggression on NATO territory. In order of least to most risk for Russia, these are: military occupation of Svalbard; military occupation of the Åland islands; seizure of NATO territory in eastern Estonia; seizure of Gotland; and military operations to establish a land corridor to Kaliningrad. The intent of the study is to develop specific, realistic, and practical recommendations to deter Russian aggression in the Nordic and Baltic region.

Five scenarios in which Russia might test NATO resolve through aggression against NATO territory.

The strategic setting: Autocrats on the rise

In 2025 the transatlantic community finds itself facing multiple serious challenges, framed by major-theater war on its doorstep in Ukraine, a new US administration critical of NATO and strongly prioritizing the homeland and China, dissensus within the Alliance on burden sharing and how to deal with Russia, and the potential for further Russian aggression in the European security space. More broadly, a consortium of autocratic states (China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea)—enabled by supporters such as India, Brazil, South Africa, and others—supports Russian aggression in Ukraine directly and indirectly by providing arms, troops, or markets that prop up Russia’s war economy.4

The strongest and most alarming trend in global affairs is the rise of autocratic regimes that threaten the stability of the international system. On every continent, democratic institutions face concerted opposition from authoritarian movements and regimes seeking to undermine the rule of law, free elections, and constitutional frameworks. Many of these movements are supported and financed by China and Russia. As Europe and the United States struggled to recover from the effects of the pandemic, global supply chain disruptions, and rising inflation, worsening tensions in the Indo-Pacific region and the outbreak of major-theater war in Ukraine roiled international markets, energy transfers, and food supplies. The international system today is marked by instability and increasing fragmentation as traditional alliances and coalitions come under growing pressure and strain.5

US economic policy, foreign policy, and national security responses to these challenges under the current administration differ strikingly from those of the past. US leaders have strongly condemned European Union (EU) trade practices, harshly criticized NATO member states, and imposed stiff tariffs on European and Canadian goods, provoking angry economic retaliation and damaging diplomatic relationships with traditionally staunch allies.6 It remains to be seen whether these measures are bargaining chips, which can be lessened or withdrawn in exchange for European concessions (such as increased defense spending or US defense contracts), or long-term shifts in US policy. US conservatives today regularly call for disengagement from Europe.7 Apparently serious US threats to expand territory by annexing Canada and Greenland have widened this breach, a process only intensified by the Donald Trump administration’s embrace of far-right movements across Europe and autocratic leaders such as Hungary’s Viktor Orban. Senior officials have repeatedly argued that Europe must “look to itself” for security so that the United States can prioritize the Indo-Pacific, now described as its “sole pacing threat.”8 Increasingly, the United States is no longer seen across Europe as a reliable ally with common values and interests.9

Several alternative futures thus appear possible, ranging from outright US withdrawal to a measured drawdown of forces to a purely transactional approach, whereby the United States demands bilateral concessions (more European forces and defense spending, as well as economic and trade concessions) in exchange for continued support.10 Regardless of which outcome materializes, it seems clear that Europe must rapidly increase its defense capabilities. For the contingencies addressed in this study, solutions that rely primarily on European contributions are optimal.

The threat: A formidable military backed by a resilient war economy

Russian aggression in Europe clearly presents the most serious challenge facing NATO and the European Union.11 The 2022 NATO Strategic Concept highlights Russia as “the most significant threat to Allied security,” while the 2025 Hague Summit cites the “long-term threat posed by Russia to Euro-Atlantic security.”12 Following its seizure of Georgian territory in 2008, the occupation of Crimea in 2014, and the incursion into the Donbas in the same year—the latter two both sovereign Ukrainian territory—the Russian Federation conducted a festering campaign in eastern Ukraine resulting in more than fifty thousand killed and wounded through 2021.13 In February 2022, Russia launched an unprovoked, massive invasion of Ukraine that continues today.

Russian losses in Ukraine have been severe, with as many as 770,000 killed, wounded, or missing, more than twice the size of the entire initial invasion force.14 (A disproportionate number are non-ethnic Russians drawn from more rural areas.15) Most of Russia’s inventory of modern main battle tanks—some three thousand in all—have been destroyed or captured, along with 5,600 armored fighting vehicles, 1,500 artillery systems, 110 fixed-wing aircraft, and more than one hundred helicopters.16 The Russian Black Sea Fleet has also been crippled, with seventeen ships sunk (including the flagship cruiser Moskva). At the outset, all of Russia’s then eleven combined-arms armies, its one tank army, and all of its airborne/air assault and naval infantry forces were committed to the invasion. That force was shattered by more than two years of intense combat.

Nevertheless, the Russian Federation’s ability to replace its losses has been remarkable.17 Through forced conscription and by offering financial incentives to boost recruiting, Russian forces fighting in Ukraine now total more than six hundred thousand.18 By drawing on reserve stocks of older equipment and ramping up production, Russia has made up for equipment losses, albeit with older and less capable systems and weapons.19 At the Munich Security Conference in February 2025, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy reported that Russia is building an additional fifty combat divisions, totaling some 150,000 troops—far more than any European state.20 Supported by China, Iran, North Korea, and others, Russia has managed to evade sanctions to obtain the microchips and other advanced electronics it needs to manufacture and repair its advanced military technology.21 Now on a war footing, with defense spending exceeding 6 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), Russia has escaped the worst effects of international sanctions.22 There is little evidence to suggest its economy will collapse in the near or medium term.23

The state of the Russian military

The Russian armed forces consist of 1.5 million active-duty soldiers, with another nine hundred thousand reservists, organized into three branches (the aerospace forces, ground forces, and navy), two independent arms (the strategic rocket forces and airborne forces) and the Special Operations Forces Command. The National Guard and Border Service are paramilitary formations not controlled by the Russian General Staff. Russian military forces are made up of both contract and conscripted soldiers, with elite formations such as special operation, parachute, and naval infantry enjoying a higher proportion of volunteers. All physically qualified Russian males aged 18–27 are subject to one year of military service.

The world’s strongest nuclear power, Russia fields an array of strategic and tactical nuclear systems that provide a wide range of options on the escalatory ladder.24 The total number of nuclear warheads of all types is 5,600, including some two thousand tactical weapons (almost ten times the US number).25 Russian intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) are controlled by the strategic rocket forces, headquartered in Moscow with an alternate command post in the Ural Mountains. The aerospace forces control a fleet of some sixty-six strategic bombers, though as many as thirteen were damaged or destroyed in recent Ukrainian drone attacks.26 The Russian navy has eleven ballistic missile submarines equipped with sea-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs). Russian ground forces include a variety of tactical nuclear systems, such as the Kalibr cruise missile and Iskander ballistic missile, deployed in the missile brigades found at army level. Russia also possesses air- and sea-launched tactical nuclear weapons in its army and navy. This inventory provides Russian leaders with a variety of escalatory options below the strategic threshold that NATO is poorly equipped to answer.

The Russian ground order of battle today consists of fourteen combined arms armies (CAA), roughly equivalent to NATO corps, and one tank army (the 1st Guards Tank Army or 1GTA) with a total of seventeen army divisions.27 (Ukrainian sources report that an additional fifteen divisions will be raised in the near term, although independent confirmation is lacking.28) Russian ground forces also include some twenty-six independent motor rifle or tank brigades. (There are also three “army corps,” non-standard groupings with generally fewer units than armies.) Ground forces are geographically assigned to five military districts (Leningrad, Moscow, Eastern, Southern, and Central).29 Russian field armies are less uniform in organization than in Soviet times and can include as many as three divisions plus supporting arms (as in the case of 1GTA) or as few as a single brigade (as with the 29th CAA in Siberia). However, all armies include an artillery brigade, missile brigade, and air defense brigade. Of note, Russian army units are supported by far more tubed and rocket artillery than is found in any NATO ally, including the United States.30

The Russian military also fields strong airborne/air assault forces (considered a separate service), including four divisions and three separate brigades, often used as spearhead forces in conventional roles (a fifth division is reportedly forming).31 Referred to as Vozdushno-desantnye-voyska (VDV), literally “air landing troops,” all are mechanized with greater firepower and mobility than NATO counterparts. Their primary mission is to seize key strategic terrain in support of military operations or campaigns directed by the Russian General Staff.32 Russian naval infantry operates under control of the Russian navy in support of the Northern, Baltic, Black Sea, and Pacific fleets; there are five brigades, organized along army lines. Russian special operations forces (SOF) include eight spetsnaz brigades, much smaller units trained and equipped for deep penetration raids against high-value targets. All of these formations have been badly damaged in Ukraine and are reconstituting.33

Private military companies (PMCs) such as the Wagner Group must also be considered. They have been used extensively in the Middle East, Africa, and, of course, Ukraine, where they sustained heavy losses.34 PMCs offer several advantages: a degree of deniability, flexibility in the place and manner of employment, and a lack of accountability or public outcry when they suffer heavy losses. Since the abortive coup of June 2023, Yevgeniy Prigozhin’s Wagner Group has declined in importance and influence while PMCs have been more strictly subordinated to state control.35 With some twenty-seven PMCs officially registered with the Russian Ministry of Defense, Russia has multiple options for employment of mercenaries in clandestine or covert operations in which a measure of deception is considered advisable. Just such a scenario appears in the 2024 Finnish documentary series Konflicti, which describes the introduction of Russian mercenaries on the Hanko Peninsula in an attempt to destabilize the Finnish government.

On the whole, Russian ground forces have underperformed in Ukraine despite massive superiority in artillery, armored vehicles, and airpower. Pre-war training and combined-arms proficiency were shown to be lacking, while command arrangements, battlefield leadership, and logistic planning have all been criticized.36 Lack of initiative and an inability to fuse intelligence in support of targeting are common problems.37 Since 2022, many Russian general officers have been killed, wounded, or relieved, disrupting the chain of command.38 Nevertheless, Russian resilience has been impressive and Russian excellence in some areas, such as electronic warfare and use of drones, is impressive.39 The Russian Army today is far more combat experienced than any NATO land force, and it continues to learn and adapt. Its resilience and willingness to take high casualties to achieve its objectives make it a dangerous adversary that should not be underestimated in future conflicts.40

Traditionally, the Russian navy has operated in support of its land forces and not at great distances from the homeland, except in small numbers. Those trends are likely to continue.41 Even so, Russian naval power is increasing, with twenty-three new vessels commissioned since 2023.42 In the transatlantic region, its principal tasks are to contribute to strategic nuclear deterrence with its submarine-launched ballistic missile submarines; to defend the ballistic missile submarine (SSBN) bastions in and around the Kola Peninsula; to threaten the Atlantic sea lanes with its attack submarines; to defend against enemy sea-launched carrier and missile strikes against critical targets ashore; and to support ground operations with its cruise missiles, naval gunfire, and naval infantry. The Russian navy currently lists 283 vessels in its order of battle, though many are aging or are smaller corvettes or coastal patrol craft. A significant number are partially manned, under refit, or otherwise not battle worthy. Principal surface combatants include one carrier (the Kuznetsov, under long-term refit if not cancellation), four cruisers, ten destroyers, and twelve frigates. These are supported by eighty-three corvettes, forty-eight mine warfare vessels, fifty patrol vessels, and seventeen amphibious assault vessels, along with other support craft. The Russian submarine force consists of fifty-eight vessels, including twelve nuclear ballistic missile boats and fourteen nuclear attack subs.43 While most Russian submarines were commissioned in the 1980s or 1990s, a small number—such as the nuclear-powered guided missile sub Severodvinsk—are modern, powerful, and difficult to detect.44 The bulk of the Russian navy is assigned to the Northern Fleet, based in Severomorsk on the Kola Peninsula. In confined waters, such as the Black Sea or Baltic Sea, the Russian navy has been shown to be vulnerable to land-based anti-ship missiles as well as unmanned surface attacks.45 Beyond the range of its land-based anti-ship missiles, the Russian navy is vulnerable to NATO’s maritime forces—but the European allies will find it difficult to cope without the US Navy.46

The Russian Air Force, on paper at least, is one of the strongest in the world, with some 1,200 fighter aircraft and more than one hundred bombers, supported by an array of command and control (C2), electronic warfare, transport, and intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) aircraft.47 Russian aerospace forces also include eleven air and missile defense brigades. The Russian Air Force has not performed well in Ukraine despite its overwhelming numbers and despite facing older Ukrainian air defense systems.48 With a ten-to-one superiority in fighter aircraft at the outset, Russia failed to achieve air dominance—primarily due to outstanding Ukrainian air defense, but also due to deficiencies in Russian training and airpower employment. More than one hundred fixed-wing Russian combat aircraft have been lost, while many others are aging out prematurely due to heavy strain in flying hours.49 About half of Russia’s aircraft fleet is more than thirty years old.50 Attack and transport helicopters belong to the Russian air force, not the army, and they have also suffered grave losses, losing 40 percent of their strength in combat. Maintenance issues, battle damage, and the requirements of other theaters also reduce the number of airframes available. Effective Ukrainian air defense forced Russia to change tactics, increasing reliance on attack drones and on aerial delivery of glide bombs launched beyond the range of enemy air defenses.51 Russian high and medium air defense also resides in the air force and is impressive, especially in the air defense bastions surrounding Kaliningrad, St. Petersburg, and the Kola Peninsula. In the near term, Russia will field more modern replacement aircraft in modest numbers, but NATO airpower should have the advantage.52 In all scenarios involving military force, Russian unmanned aerial vehicles can be employed en masse and in sophisticated ways, with heavy use of decoys and deliberate targeting of civilian populations and infrastructure if deemed necessary.

Russian politics presents no threat to Putin’s control

Now in power for a quarter of a century, Putin at seventy-two is in firm control of the Russian political system, which stages periodic “show elections” that do not threaten his hold on power. Powerful oligarchs, military and intelligence figures, and legislators cannot establish independent centers of power able to challenge his authority, while opposition figures are regularly imprisoned, assassinated, or executed. As Freedom House reports:

Power in Russia’s authoritarian political system is concentrated in the hands
of President Vladimir Putin. With loyalist security forces, a subservient judiciary, a controlled media environment, and a legislature consisting of a ruling party and pliable opposition factions, the Kremlin manipulates elections and suppresses genuine dissent.
53

Strongly nationalist and supported by the Russian Orthodox Church, the Russian political system follows centuries of Russian history as an authoritarian and autocratic regime preoccupied with expansion and external threats. As one expert observes, “The main aim of the system is the perpetuation of the ruling elite’s hold on power, first by shielding it against any challenges that might emerge from the society, and second, by regulating the intra-elite rivalries . . . the state is treated by the elite as if it were its collective property through neo-patrimonialism. Neither citizens’ welfare nor economic development are among its primary goals.”54 The Russian system is opaque, rendering independent assessments and analyses difficult. Catastrophic defeat on the battlefield, economic collapse, or serious internal rivalries might conceivably cause Putin’s overthrow, but at present his hold on power appears solid and durable. For planning purposes, analysts should assume that the current power structures will remain in place through Putin’s lifetime.

The Russian economy has rebounded from sanctions pressure

Though beset with comprehensive sanctions since 2022, the Russian economy has proven to be resilient, with GDP growing by 3.4 percent in 2024 as Russia transitioned to a war economy. There is disagreement regarding Russian economic prospects going forward.55 Rising inflation and interest rates, corporate debt increases, a weakening ruble, declining energy prices, labor shortages, sharp reductions in foreign investment, and the loss of European markets for Russian energy have all negatively impacted Russian economic performance.56 Diversion of capital into the defense sector has also affected investment in other parts of the economy, stunting efforts to offset these impacts.57 Russia’s sovereign wealth fund has also declined from $175 billion in early February 2022 to $135 billion in March 2025, while $340 billion in Russian assets held in foreign banks were frozen following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.58 Some economists therefore conclude that the Russian economy might collapse or decline in the near term.59

Others, however, point to factors that challenge this assessment.60 Russia is self-sufficient in both agriculture and energy, rendering the state at least partially immune to external economic pressures. It includes perhaps the world’s largest reserves of natural resources, including oil, natural gas, timber, iron ore, coal, bauxite, diamonds, rare earths, and other commodities. The Russian shadow fleet, chartered by Russian entities but operating under foreign registries, includes hundreds of vessels engaged in carrying Russian cargoes (principally oil and natural gas) in order to evade international sanctions.61 The Russian steel industry ranked first in Europe in 2024 with $74 billion in revenue.62

With new energy markets in China, India, Turkey, and elsewhere, the Russian energy sector has adapted well to Europe’s attempts to wean itself from Russian oil and natural gas (though a substantial fraction of Europe’s energy today is still supplied by Russian energy purchased from other countries on the secondary market and transported by Russia’s shadow fleet to avoid sanctions).63 The EU also continues to import Russian oil, nickel, natural gas, fertilizer, iron, and steel.64 Wages for Russian workers across the economy have risen and are running well ahead of inflation, while sanctions regimes have historically eroded as international business interests push for renewed access to Russian markets, commodities, and capital. Trade with China alone has risen by 70 percent, or $237 billion, since 2021.65 Since then, Russia has transformed its economy to sharply prioritize military production, a change that will not be reversed quickly.66 Russian debt, by international standards, is relatively moderate at 20 percent of GDP.67 Unlike European consumers, the Russian population—especially in a starkly autocratic Russian state—appears well able to withstand privation and hardship. Given these realities, Russia is unlikely to suspend its military ambitions anytime soon due to economic constraints.68 Stronger Western sanctions could change this calculus, but sanctions fatigue and an erosion of the sanctions regime over time appear just as likely.69 While long-term collapse is possible, Russia seems well able to sustain its military activity for the near to medium term.

Russian hybrid operations seek to “fracture” Europe

Russian capabilities in the information domain are formidable and include offensive cyber, subversion, propaganda, and disinformation. State-sponsored media such as RT and Sputnik collaborate with sophisticated hacking and social media manipulation to sow dissension and distrust of institutions on a global scale. Financial support for opposition parties in Western democracies is a favored tactic with proven results; the recent election of an almost unknown, Russian-backed candidate in the Romanian presidential election is a primary example.70 (As another example, almost every living Austrian chancellor has accepted highly paid employment with Russian businesses upon leaving office.71) Russian interference in US elections in 2016, 2020, and 2024 is well documented.72 The Baltic region is a high priority for Russian information operations, which seek to destabilize host nation governments using highly sophisticated means, often leveraging the ethnic Russian populations found there.73

Direct sabotage is a regular feature of these efforts. Attacks on Baltic and Nordic infrastructure on land and at sea escalated alarmingly since 2022, often involving explosives and incendiaries as well as targeted assassinations.74 Deniable attacks on undersea infrastructure have increased dramatically and are now a standard part of Russia’s hybrid toolkit.75 Airspace violations by Russian aircraft and drones are now almost common, most spectacularly on September 9, 2025, when nineteen Russian drones entered Polish airspace.76 These activities suggest at least an attempt to probe and test host country and NATO detection and response capabilities, if not a deliberate program of intimidation. Any kinetic operation launched by Russia in the region will almost certainly be preceded by comprehensive hybrid activities meant to fracture civilian support for the authorities, cripple financial and command-and-control systems, and alarm and distract civil society. These efforts are ongoing and increasing on a large scale.77

Russian objectives

Russian active measures, in the Nordic and Baltic region and more broadly, are based on a series of strategic objectives with deep roots. Among these are:

  • enhancing the prestige and stability of the regime by demonstrating influence and power relative to adversaries;
  • destabilizing neighboring democratic states;
  • laying the groundwork for recovery of former imperial possessions;
  • restoration of the Russian Federation as a great power;
  • reconfiguration of the international order in ways that benefit Russia in particular, and friendly autocratic regimes in general;
  • resetting geostrategic conditions in ways that favor Russian political and military interests and goals;
  • conducting intelligence preparation in support of future military operations;
  • punishing formerly neutral Sweden and Finland for joining NATO; and
  • fracturing the NATO Alliance and the European Union.

Though it has sustained serious losses in Ukraine, Russia remains a capable and determined adversary and the world’s strongest nuclear power. Its ultimate victory in Ukraine is in some doubt, with the conflict likely to subside into yet another frozen conflict.78 (In the unlikely event of a Russian victory or a durable peace in Ukraine, Russia is even more likely to consider aggression in other parts of Europe, as more of its forces would be freed for other contingencies.) As Putin has repeatedly asserted, his ambitions go beyond Ukraine and encompass the recovery of former imperial territories lost over the centuries.79 Both Finland and Sweden have difficult conflict histories with Russia extending back to imperial times, complicated by Russian anger over their recent accession to NATO.80 Norway, formerly part of Sweden and sharing a border with Russia, is similarly a target of Russian ire as a strong supporter of Ukraine and an outspoken champion of sanctions. Baltic allies Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania are regular targets as well; all formerly belonged to the Russian Empire and all possess ethnic Russian minorities that are oppressed, according to Russian propaganda.81 They also represent prosperous Western democracies whose high standards of living and free societies stand in sharp contrast to conditions in bordering Russia—a clear threat Putin is known to fear. Standing between Russian territory and the Russian exclave at Kaliningrad (home to the Russian Baltic Fleet), the Baltic states are a high priority for Russian disinformation and subversion, as well as outright aggression.

The Russian Federation today is an aggressive state determined to restore its former glory and its place as a great power.82 Russian troops occupy Moldovan and Georgian sovereign territory and are based in Armenia as well. With a powerful conventional military and the world’s largest nuclear arsenal, Russia has used force repeatedly and successfully in recent years to achieve its political aims. Western intelligence agencies assess that further aggression is under serious consideration.83 Over the next two to five years, Russia will continue to rearm and reconstitute its forces, posing a serious threat to the transatlantic region.84 Meanwhile, Russian hybrid warfare will continue to play a prominent role.85

The potential rewards for continued and successful Russian aggression in Europe include enhanced prestige for Putin’s regime, an improved geostrategic position along Russia’s periphery, delivery of a damaging and perhaps fatal blow to NATO, and the severing of the transatlantic link. These are powerful incentives. The most likely scenarios for future Russian aggression in Europe share several factors in common: they are relatively close to Russian territory; they represent a lower probability of a strong NATO or US-led response; they are opposed by weak defending forces; and they are subject to Russian historical claims. Western leaders should have no illusions. The prospects for direct conflict with Russia are substantial.86 As one senior Nordic officer opined when interviewed for this study, “What Putin says he will do, he does.”

The risk: NATO is not ready

For some seven decades, NATO has been the backbone of North American and European security. The Russian invasion of Ukraine has fundamentally altered the security landscape in which NATO is operating, posing a threat not seen since its inception. How the Alliance meets these challenges will define its future and survival.

Inside the Alliance, NATO faces serious challenges. The Trump administration’s aversion to NATO is well documented, as is its strong prioritization of China as the principal threat.87 Redeployment of some or all US forces in Europe is reportedly under active consideration.88 A steady drift away from NATO’s core values of democracy, human rights, and rule of law in some member states impairs Alliance cohesion.89 Key allies such as Canada, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Belgium still fall well below the defense spending threshold of 2 percent of GDP. Autocratic states such as Hungary, Turkey, and Slovakia refused to participate in sanctions against Russia over Ukraine and represent difficult allies should direct conflict with the Russian Federation erupt. Readiness is low across the Alliance, with half of NATO allies possessing no tanks or combat aircraft. Differing threat perceptions across NATO and the EU further complicate concerted action.

These dynamics suggest opportunities for Russia to exploit in the next few years. The United Kingdom’s difficult exit from the European Union, chronically low interoperability and military readiness across the Alliance, underinvestment in key capabilities such as space, theater missile defense, and offensive cyber, and wide divergences in burden sharing all complicate Alliance cohesion.90 The rise of far-right political movements in Germany, France, and elsewhere raises elemental concerns. Financial and military support for Ukraine is taxing strained defense budgets, particularly given reductions in US aid. Looming over all of this is the question of the US role in NATO going forward. Faced with US demands to raise defense spending to 5 percent of GDP “or else,” a requirement that many allies cannot realistically meet, European states must question the US administration’s actual commitment to the Washington Treaty and the defense of the transatlantic community.91 Alarmingly, the head of the German Federal Intelligence Service reported in 2025 that his agency “had clear intelligence indications that Russian officials believed the collective defence obligations enshrined in the NATO treaty no longer had practical force.”92

Map courtesy of NATO

NATO’s security posture on its eastern flank is generally characterized by small regular forces, limited reserves, an absence of large armored formations, and weak artillery. The Baltic states presently field no tanks or combat aircraft and only coastal patrol craft. Poland, much larger than its neighbors to the north, is an exception. It has much stronger active and reserve forces and formidable tank, artillery, and fighter holdings (though these are still far smaller than Russian forces). NATO forward forces in the form of multinational battalion battlegroups are present in each of the eastern flank countries.93 Lacking strategic depth, the Baltic states are unlikely to successfully defend against Russian aggression without substantial augmentation from allies.

NATO’s posture in Nordic Europe is, in some ways, more reassuring. All Nordic allies (except Iceland, which has no military) require mandatory military service. Defense spending is well above the NATO average and rising. A shared strategic culture, common history, and geographical proximity ensure higher interoperability. Difficult terrain, limited road and rail nets, greater strategic depth, and harsh weather conditions favor the defense. Nordic defense cooperation is long-standing and advanced.94 Finland, Sweden, and Norway, with their long experience bordering Russia, can boast resilient societies marked by high levels of defense preparedness, advanced technology, and significant defense industries. Finland possesses large reserves and the largest artillery inventory in European NATO, while Nordic air forces field some 250 modern fourth- and fifth-generation fighter aircraft.95 Nevertheless, minimal force projection capabilities, small active forces, modest ballistic missile defense, and limited blue-water naval strength all constitute vulnerabilities. All Nordic countries lack corps and higher-level formations and staffs with appropriate enablers. A serious threat from Russia would require assistance from across the Alliance.

This discussion feeds into the larger question of how best to deter further Russian aggression in the Nordic-Baltic region under present circumstances. The following considerations should be addressed as the Alliance seeks to meet its many challenges in this dangerous time.

  • A shared consensus and commitment to action with respect to Russia is imperative. NATO should establish clear redlines respecting the sovereignty and territorial integrity of members and speak with one voice. A major part of this effort must be combating Russian disinformation through unified and coordinated messaging from capitals.
  • Readiness and interoperability are by far the most urgent concerns. Though NATO force structure far outmatches Russia’s on paper, low readiness undermines deterrence across the board.96 Operational readiness rates, deployment timelines, training, and stocks of ammunition, spare parts, fuel, and precision-guided munitions must all be strengthened and improved.97 Addressing the lack of space-based ISR is an urgent priority.
  • Addressing capability shortfalls is also an urgent need. High-altitude air and missile defense, intra-theater airlift, division- and corps-level “enablers,” electronic warfare, and offensive cyber, drone, and counter-drone systems all require investment and strengthening.
  • Across Europe, the defense industrial base must grow in size and capacity to generate adequate stocks of major end items (tanks, aircraft, warships), as well as ammunition and spare parts.
  • Military mobility, long recognized as a debilitating problem, must be solved. Here, close coordination and effective interaction with the European Union will be required.98 Stress testing through regular exercises should be implemented.
  • Burden sharing—currently the most divisive issue within the Alliance—must be addressed and rationalized. Overall, NATO allies reached the target of 2 percent of GDP set at the 2014 Summit in 2024, spending $500 billion on defense, or about four times more than Russia. However, key allies such as Italy, Spain, Canada, and Belgium (among others) remain below the 2-percent threshold. To relieve rising pressures related to burden sharing, all allies must achieve a minimum threshold of 2 percent of GDP for defense spending now and show clear progress toward a revised goal of 3.5 percent within the next decade, as agreed at the 2025 NATO Summit at the Hague.
  • Updates to NATO’s cyber and nuclear policies are also needed.99 Especially for tactical nuclear weapons, important questions about basing, release authority, site security, deterrent posture, and messaging are all appropriate policy issues affecting NATO as a whole.100 In the cyber domain, NATO can help to improve cyber defense and cyber awareness across the Alliance, sharing best practices and advanced technology.
  • As the conflict in Ukraine has highlighted, addressing the lack of reserves is essential. Small volunteer militaries or limited conscription with short terms of service cannot generate the forces and replacements needed to deter and defend. Conscription based on the Israeli model, especially for those states under greatest threat, will almost certainly be required—and would send a strong deterrent signal.
  • Above all, deterrence—the concrete ability and will to inflict unacceptable costs on any aggressor—must be strengthened. This requires the stationing of heavy NATO forces, with enablers, on the eastern flank. Specifically, the enhanced Forward Presence (eFP) battle groups should be increased from battalion to brigade size, as NATO committed to in Madrid in 2022; NATO should assist the Baltic states in transitioning to heavy forces of divisional strength, with enablers; and the US “heel-to-toe” rotational brigade in Poland should be maintained. These forces represent a credible defensive deterrent but are far too small to pose an offensive threat.

Here NATO has many advantages. Its combined GDP is some twenty times greater than Russia’s, and its overall defense spending is some fourteen times greater. NATO’s thirty-two allies and close, official partners such as Japan, Australia, and South Korea constitute most of the economic and military power on the planet, and their combined populations dwarf Russia’s. Nevertheless, NATO must generate the political will to compete. The unity and cohesion of the Alliance is at stake. It is decisively in the US national interest to combine and cooperate with likeminded and wealthy allies who share common values and interests. Accordingly, key Alliance objectives include:

  • maintaining Alliance unity and cohesion;
  • deterring and defending member states’ sovereignty and territorial integrity;
  • increasing overall defense spending;
  • correcting capability shortfalls;
  • strengthening the defense industrial base;
  • improving readiness and interoperability to meet wartime requirements;
  • generating manpower reserves; and
  • improving NATO-EU cooperation.

What NATO could look like—from the status quo to full US withdrawal

In the near and medium term, NATO might assume one of three forms. The first is the status quo, perhaps with a reduced US footprint and a more transactional approach. Allies should expect continued strong pressure to assume greater defense burdens. In this scenario, the United States will continue to provide its nuclear umbrella; three European-based brigade combat teams; forward divisional and corps headquarters with enablers; one divisional set of pre-positioned equipment; four fighter squadrons based in Europe; the US Sixth Fleet; US European Command; and a US Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR). In time of war, the US contribution would be reinforced to include four fighter wings, an army corps of two divisions with enablers, and the US Second Fleet. US pressure to assume costs for its presence in countries like Germany is likely. This option could see the United States prioritizing exercises and troop deployments in those countries that meet the administration’s defense spending demands.

The second would resemble France’s withdrawal from the military command structure in 1967, with a much-reduced US presence. This option would see most US ground and air forces withdrawn; retention of the US nuclear umbrella and pre-positioned equipment; trainers and advisers as well as staff representation in NATO structures; and a European SACEUR. In this scenario, the United States will remain committed to Article 5 but only in a reinforcing role, with far greater reliance on Europe.

In a third case, the United States withdraws from NATO, removes its nuclear umbrella, and redeploys its military forces to the United States or the Indo-Pacific region.101 In this circumstance, NATO might carry on without the United States, be disestablished, or perhaps function as the military component of an expanded European Union.102 Should the Alliance fold altogether, a regional coalition or consortium including the Nordic and Baltic states, Poland, and perhaps the United Kingdom (UK) could evolve.

This study assumes a reduced US presence in Europe, continued US extended nuclear deterrence, and a US SACEUR. As mentioned above, proposed solutions for the threats and challenges presented herein assume limited US participation. With these considerations in mind, the following discussion will examine possible scenarios for further aggression in the Nordic and Baltic region along with suggested solutions for deterrence and defense.

In all the scenarios discussed below, certain factors apply. Any Russian military operation to seize NATO territory will be preceded by an assessment of expected Alliance reactions; if the chances of a robust response are considered low, the probabilities that Russia might act increase. The scenarios considered here could unfold in isolation or in tandem. Russian diplomacy will focus on support for nationalist or right-wing parties in order to generate dissensus inside NATO and the EU. Russian forces based in western Russia, such as 1GTA, must first be reconstituted, reequipped, and returned to full strength. Any operation will be fully joint, involving air, sea, land, space, and cyber domains. In all, intelligence preparation of the battlefield will be intense, and Russia will deploy disinformation, espionage, and sabotage. Indicators of a pending operation might include redeployment of air and sealift platforms; increased aerial and maritime reconnaissance; increased activity of rapid intervention forces; stepped-up disinformation; and no-notice snap exercises intended to mask actual operations. Russian SOF will participate and will probably precede the introduction of conventional forces. Military deception, such as the use of civilian shipping and commercial air transport and diversionary operations elsewhere, should be expected. A “cold start” using elite intervention forces (e.g., naval infantry and airborne units) is more likely than extensive mobilization that might alert NATO forces in advance. Finally, the timing of Russian aggression might be linked to climactic conditions and time of year, Western political transitions or domestic unrest, or crises such as conflict in the Indo-Pacific or Middle East that might hinder effective responses.103

Target 1: Svalbard archipelago 

Undefended and far from military assistance, the Svalbard archipelago is a tempting opportunity to test NATO resolve and improve Russia’s geostrategic posture in the High North.104 A sudden, uncontested military occupation by Russian troops would pose a severe test for both Norway and the Alliance. Located 750 kilometers (km) north of the Norwegian mainland in the Norwegian Sea, the archipelago includes Svalbard (formerly Spitzbergen), Hopen, and Jan Mayen islands. In accordance with the 1920 Svalbard Treaty, the archipelago is sovereign Norwegian territory but subject to a number of stipulations: military installations cannot be placed there; citizens of any treaty signatories can reside and pursue commercial opportunities on the islands, subject to Norwegian law; and all parties must respect and preserve the local environment.

Scenario 1: Russia could occupy the Svalbard archipelago, lightly populated Norwegian territory where Russia operates a mine and a research station. False claims that Norway is violating the 1920 treaty governing Svalbard could provide a pretext.

The archipelago is sparsely populated, with fewer than three thousand residents spread across seven locations and only two permanent settlements (Longyearbyen and Barentsburg, on Svalbard island). Seventeen percent of its population is made up of Russian nationals. Its principal mineral resources are coal, zinc, copper, and phosphate. Norway operated a single coal mine that exports 80,000 tons annually to European customers, but it closed in 2025.105 One local airport supports regular commercial air service to Svalbard from mainland Norway. One of the world’s largest ground-based commercial telecommunications stations is based on the island. It was bombed by Germany in World War II and later used as a weather station by the German military.

In support of its commercial interests—and as allowed by the treaty—Russia has maintained a nearly permanent presence on Svalbard for decades, principally for mining. At the height of the Cold War, Svalbard was home to more than twice as many Russian citizens as Norwegians. A major mining complex at Pyramiden was abandoned in 1998; today it is manned as a research station by twelve Russian nationals. A Russian mining operation remains active at Barentsburg, producing 120,000 tons of coal per year but programmed for reduction to 40,000 tons by 2032.106 A Russian Geographical Society office opened in Barentsburg in October 2025 as well. The Russian government also encourages tourism from “friendly” countries, raising the Russian profile and footprint on Svalbard. In recent years, Russia has stepped up its complaints, asserting various violations of the treaty concerning fishing rights, treatment of Russian citizens, research activities, Norwegian military activity, and Norwegian claims to an exclusive economic zone (EEZ).107

Current Norwegian government documents acknowledge “the risk of military conflict involving Norway [has] increased” and assert that “the exercise of national control in Svalbard is to be strengthened.”108 Though lacking in military infrastructure, the archipelago represents a potential platform for reconnaissance and surveillance of the Norwegian and Barents Seas and a listening post for observation of the High North, as well as Russian naval activity out of Murmansk and the Kola Peninsula, home to the Russian Northern Fleet.109 The bulk of the Russian navy is based in the Kola Peninsula, including the majority of Russian ballistic missile and attack submarines, as well as long-range naval aviation.110 If militarized, Russian possession of Svalbard would deny NATO allies this potential advantage and enhance Russian presence and reach in these waters, contributing to a layered defense of the Kola complex and strengthening Russian access to the Arctic Ocean and the North Atlantic. Of note, Norwegian analysts report a strong Russian intelligence focus on the archipelago, as well as the Arctic region and the Northern Sea Route in recent years, highlighting the islands’ geographic importance.111 In January 2022, just weeks before the invasion of Ukraine, a major telecommunications cable from the mainland to Svalbard was cut, almost certainly by Russian commercial vessels.112

These developments suggest that, as part of a larger program to drive wedges inside NATO and to punish Norway for its unstinting support of Ukraine (including economic sanctions), Russia could see greater political value in exploiting Svalbard’s territorial “ambiguity” by seizing the undefended archipelago. Contrived complaints about Norwegian treatment of Russian nationals and arguments over disputed Norwegian sovereignty in Svalbard have been simmering for years and would provide a ready, if thinly veiled, justification.113 In recent years, Russian officials have also falsely claimed that Norway is “militarizing” Svalbard, a clear attempt to generate a false narrative in support of possible military action.114

Any Russian operation to seize Svalbard would be preceded by hybrid activities, such as destruction of undersea telecommunications, the insertion of intelligence officers in civilian clothes, and SOF troops conducting strategic reconnaissance and seizing key locations such as the commercial airfield north of Longyearbyen. Naval infantry from the Northern Fleet (the 61st Naval Infantry Brigade, based in Murmansk) or airborne troops flown in from mainland Russia could rapidly seize and occupy the archipelago with little warning, presenting NATO with a fait accompli.115 Although an overt military movement using Russian amphibious assault craft or military transport aircraft is possible, a military occupation might involve maskirovka (military deception) using commercial aircraft or ships, at least for the leading echelon. The initial occupying force would likely be of battalion strength, followed by its parent brigade with the normal enablers (air defense, artillery, engineers, intelligence, and electronic warfare units), supported by fighters, warships, and submarines from the Kola Peninsula.116 Some form of civil administration and ministry of the interior border guards would follow in due course.

Given Svalbard’s remote location and small population, it is not certain that all thirty-two NATO allies would agree to oppose Russian aggression on Svalbard.117 Without consensus, a robust NATO response is less likely. At the outset, Norway’s small military can do little in response. Though a clear Article 5 violation, NATO’s failure to respond effectively will significantly damage Alliance prestige and cohesion, at low risk and low cost to Russia. Should Russian planners assess that NATO lacks the resolve to act, this scenario becomes far more probable.

Technically, Norway might not abrogate the 1920 treaty without the consent of the participating parties (which number some forty-eight, including Russia).118 The introduction of foreign troops is forbidden. However, Article 9 of the treaty permits the presence of Norwegian troops with caveats: Norway cannot establish naval bases or other military fortifications on Svalbard and the archipelago cannot be used “for warlike purposes,” but “defensive measures” are permitted.119 Citing repeated Russian aggression and violations of international law, Norway could station a rotational force—perhaps border guards or other paramilitary troops—in company strength as a reaction force on Svalbard to deter an unopposed landing. Such a force could not withstand a determined attack but would raise the political stakes and signal Norway’s determination to assert its sovereignty and defend its territory, strengthening the case for NATO and international diplomatic and military intervention.

These steps can be augmented by more focused intelligence and surveillance, including signal and human intelligence, aimed specifically at detecting Russian troop movements before they happen. Early detection could provide opportunities for diplomacy, activation of response plans, and perhaps some form of interdiction prior to the operation taking place. Any strong evidence of a pending coup de main should trigger stepped-up NATO air and maritime patrols. In these circumstances, the Norwegian government might also consider a preemptive deployment.120

NATO should also prepare detailed plans to retake Svalbard in the event of aggression. Unfortunately, Norway has no amphibious assault ships or marines, other than a company-sized coastal ranger unit equipped with CB90 fast assault craft.121 It also lacks parachute troops needed for no-notice, long-range response. One option is to employ Norwegian special forces along with US, UK, and Dutch marines who regularly exercise in north Norway.122 Another is to employ UK, Dutch, and Belgian parachute troops along with Norwegian SOF—a more rapid solution.123 Such an operation would require air and naval forces, as well as ground troops in sufficient strength to overcome local Russian resistance and any reinforcing echelon. Russian planners will surely anticipate a NATO response, so effective air defense and anti-submarine assets in support of the reaction force are essential. Speed is critical, as delay would enable the Russian military to both establish stronger defenses (such as air defense and anti-ship missiles) and bring in reinforcements. Norwegian and Alliance public diplomacy should reinforce Norway’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened, reinforced by recurring exercises to demonstrate Alliance resolve and capability.124 Should the North Atlantic Council decline to respond, an alternative is a “coalition of the willing” supported by the UK, the Nordic powers, and perhaps others.

Recommendations

  • Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Norway’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
  • Implement diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to deter or defend against aggression on Svalbard.
  • Position a rotational company-sized Norwegian military or paramilitary unit on Svalbard.
  • Conduct focused intelligence and surveillance, to include signal and human intelligence, aimed specifically at detecting Russian troop movements toward Svalbard.
  • Conduct detailed military planning to reinforce or retake Svalbard in crisis scenarios.
  • Conduct regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
  • Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts in north Norway in support of contingency plans.
  • Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 2: Åland islands 

As with Svalbard, the Åland islands are undefended and represent a tempting prize for Russian forces. Situated at the entrance to the Gulf of Bothnia in the Baltic Sea, they are in close proximity to three NATO capitals: Stockholm in Sweden, Tallinn in Estonia, and Helsinki in Finland. Described by Napoleon Bonaparte as “a pistol aimed at the heart of Sweden,” the 6,700 islands in the chain were formerly Swedish territory but were ceded to Russia in 1809 along with the Grand Duchy of Finland.125 Following the Crimean War, the islands were demilitarized in accordance with the Treaty of Paris. Though sovereign Finnish territory since Finland’s independence in 1917, the islands enjoy substantial autonomy and remain demilitarized, with no military installations or infrastructure.

Scenario 2: Russia could occupy the Åland islands, Finnish territory with no military infrastructure, close to three NATO capitals: Stockholm, Tallinn, and Helsinki. Any Russian operation to occupy the islands would be preceded by Russian special operations forces, inserted clandestinely to conduct reconnaissance and seize critical infrastructure, such as the commercial airfield at Mariehamn.

The population is Swedish speaking and enjoys the highest standard of living in Finland. Residents are not subject to military service. With thirty thousand inhabitants and a surface area of 1,700 km, the regional economy is based on shipping, fishing, and agriculture. The regional capital is Mariehamn on Fasta island, home to 90 percent of the local population. The islands are a crucial maritime waterway, as shipping routes nearby carry $180 billion of regional trade annually along with critical undersea cables linking Finland to the rest of Europe.126 There is daily ferry service to Sweden and the Finnish mainland, as well as to the Baltic states, and daily air service to Stockholm and Helsinki from Mariehamn, the islands’ only commercial airport. The islands’ status is governed by the 1921 Åland convention, brokered by the League of Nations, which grants substantial cultural and political autonomy to the islanders.127

Largely due to the conflict in Ukraine and Finland’s subsequent joining of NATO, some Finnish politicians and analysts have suggested revisiting the islands’ demilitarized status, provoking a strong reaction from Russian commentators.128 Although a majority of Finns support this step, local residents do not.129 The Finnish government has tabled such proposals, careful not to inflame an already tense relationship with the Russian Federation.130 Still, an evolving security environment in the Baltic and Nordic region could change that calculus. Given the geostrategic stakes, Helsinki must take such threats seriously.131

A prime driver for Moscow is the importance of Baltic Sea trade, a major contributor to the Russian economy.132 The Åland islands also sit astride the entrance to the Gulf of Finland and the approaches to St. Petersburg, Russia’s second largest city, while the Kaliningrad exclave to the south is the home of the Russian Baltic Fleet and Russia’s only year-round, ice-free port in the Baltic. With almost all of the Baltic coastline now NATO territory, Russian planners face an acute challenge: in the event of direct confrontation with the Alliance, their use of Baltic waters and airspace is at grave risk, as is the survival of Kaliningrad as a Russian entity. The defense of St. Petersburg, now almost a NATO suburb, is also in question from the Russian perspective.

For these reasons, the Åland islands represent an attractive target.133 Their possession in time of war confers vital advantages to Russia, altering the strategic landscape in the Baltic region significantly. These include more defense in depth for St. Petersburg, an enhanced air defense zone in the northern Baltic, and a potential platform for surveillance and reconnaissance as well as anti-ship missiles and rocket artillery. A military operation to seize them would also punish Finland for joining NATO and, like Svalbard, pose a wrenching dilemma for NATO. Though clearly an act of war, as well as a striking violation of international law, an unopposed military occupation in time of peace would more likely than not result in diplomatic protests, but perhaps not a NATO military response.

As in the Svalbard scenario, any Russian operation to occupy the islands would be preceded by Russian SOF, inserted clandestinely, to conduct strategic reconnaissance and seize critical infrastructure, such as the commercial airfield at Mariehamn.134 These would be supported by combat aircraft and air defense forces from the Leningrad Military District. The occupation force would likely come from the 336th Naval Infantry Brigade based in Kaliningrad, or the 76th Air Assault Division based in Pskov.135 As in Scenario 1, troops in battalion or regimental strength could be inserted by sea or air with little or no warning, possibly using commercial shipping or aircraft. Elements of the Russian Baltic Fleet would support the operation.136 Moscow would likely then annex the islands, following up with national guard or border police troops and emplacing air defense, anti-ship missiles, electronic warfare units, and other enablers—in all, the equivalent of an independent brigade group.

Finnish military leaders are well aware of the Russian threat to the islands and increasingly advocate for their defense, as do a growing number of parliamentarians.137 An appropriate response to the growing Russian threat is to amend the 1921 Åland convention (Russia is not a signatory) and position adequate defense forces on Fasta, perhaps with Swedish and other NATO elements equipped with armored vehicles, air defense, and supporting artillery, and supplemented by local volunteer reserve units. A possible solution is the Nyland Brigade, Swedish-speaking “coastal jaegers” currently based at Ekenas on the southern tip of Finland, augmented by air defense, field artillery, and anti-ship missile units.138 This force would deny Russian forces an unopposed landing, impose costs on an attacking force, strengthen the case for NATO intervention in the event of Russian aggression, and buy time for reinforcements to arrive. Should the mission be to retake the islands, spearhead forces would be Finnish SOF (specifically the Uttii Jaeger Regiment) and the Nyland battlegroup, perhaps supported by Swedish marines.139 Though the Russian government would protest any preventive deployment strongly, the islands are sovereign Finnish territory and such a deployment would clearly pose no offensive threat to Russian territory or interests. Given heightened tensions in the region and Russia’s demonstrated propensity for aggression, as well as direct Russian threats related to Finland’s accession to NATO, a defensive deployment like this is both prudent and necessary. Now, while Russia remains preoccupied in Ukraine, is the best time to bolster Finnish defenses in this critical area.

Recommendations

  • Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Finland’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
  • Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
  • Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
  • Position a composite Swedish and Finnish mechanized battalion battle group and reserve infantry battalion on Fasta.
  • Equip these composite forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
  • Prepare the terrain for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
  • Strengthen Finnish capabilities to react to and retake occupied territory.
  • Conduct detailed contingency planning and regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
  • Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
  • Strengthen NATO air patrols and presence.
  • Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 3: Eastern Estonia

Located on the southern coast of the Gulf of Finland, Estonia shares a 294-km border with Russia (its easternmost city, Narva, is only 136 km from St. Petersburg). Formerly a possession of the Holy Roman Empire and later of the Kingdom of Sweden, Estonia was incorporated into the Russian empire in 1710 following the Great Northern War. Estonia enjoyed brief independence from 1918–1940 before reoccupation by Soviet troops, and it existed as part of the USSR until the end of the Cold War. Between 1945 and 1989, the presence of ethnic Russians in Estonia increased from 3 percent to 39 percent as part of a deliberate “russification” policy.140 Since independence in 1991, Estonia has grown into a modern functioning democracy with a thriving economy and robust institutions. A member state of both NATO and the EU, Estonia has a population of 1.4 million, 21 percent of whom are ethnic Russians. Most are concentrated in Tallinn, the capital, and in Ida-Viru, Estonia’s northeastern province centered on Narva.

Scenario 3: Russia could seize territory in the east of Estonia, which has struggled to integrate its ethnically Russian citizens, many of whom hold Russian passports and do not speak Estonian. Russian paramilitary troops, special operations forces, and intelligence officers without markings could enter the country to carve out a separatist enclave around Narva in support of these “oppressed” minorities.

A prime target of Russian influence operations, Estonia has struggled to effectively integrate its ethnic Russian citizens, many of whom hold Russian passports and do not speak Estonian. (A recent constitutional amendment bars ethnic Russians who lack Estonian citizenship from voting.141) Russian intelligence services employ a variety of methods, including clandestine support of political parties, cyberattacks, disinformation spread through social media, vandalism, aggressive propaganda, and orchestrated bomb threat campaigns to affect Estonian social and political life.142 Although Estonian defense spending exceeds 3 percent, its tiny GDP means that external support is essential for its defense. Its defense forces consist of one active brigade, one reserve brigade, and no tanks or fighter aircraft; its navy consists of a handful of coastal patrol craft. A UK-led NATO battalion battle group based in Tapa is also present as a deterrent. (Allies committed in Madrid in 2022 to station NATO brigades in threatened eastern flank states “where and when required,” but that promise never materialized.143) A NATO Air Policing activity is also located at Amari Air Base. Border fortifications are being constructed but will take time. With such a small and poorly equipped military, Estonia depends on NATO’s Article 5 security guarantees to deter possible Russian aggression. That threat is looming; as one expert recently opined, “Russia is thinking seriously about a combat operation in the Baltic region.”144

In this scenario, Russian paramilitary troops, special operations soldiers, and intelligence officers without markings would enter eastern Estonia to carve out a separatist enclave in support of “oppressed” Russian minorities seeking reincorporation into the Russian Federation.145

Using this cover story, Russian operatives backed with armed force would occupy the area around Narva and Lake Peipus. “Separatists” would then set up a mock government and vote for reincorporation into the Russian Federation, as seen in the Donbas and Crimea. The operational objectives would be to test NATO’s resolve, to intimidate and destabilize a neighbor and former imperial possession, and to set conditions for possible future aggression against the Baltic states.146 Estonian authorities would surely act quickly in response to this threat, alerting military and police forces, mobilizing reserves, stiffening cyber defenses, and calling for immediate Article 4 and Article 5 consultations under the Washington Treaty. Should actual fighting break out, which is likely, Russia will swiftly escalate and introduce combat troops under the pretext of assisting ethnic Russians seeking self-determination. Local Estonian active and reserve forces and police might be able to deal with small incursions, but a sophisticated operation backed by Russian GRU and SOF, supported by conventional forces such as the 76th Air Assault Division in nearby Pskov and the 6th CAA in St. Petersburg, would exceed their capabilities. The lone NATO eFP battalion in Estonia is not enough to materially alter the balance of forces.

Here the risks for Russia appear to be relatively low. NATO intervention in strength is not certain; in all probability, close neighbors such as Sweden, Finland, and Latvia would not send ground forces or risk a direct confrontation with Putin. Large Russian forces would not be required, easing logistical requirements, and the prospect of high casualties is remote. A successful Russian operation of this kind would demonstrate the cleavages within NATO and force neighboring Baltic and Nordic states to reassess their relationships with the Russian Federation. Strong measures—above all, the timely deployment of a full-strength NATO heavy brigade combat team with enablers to Estonia—are needed now to deter this threat. In short, there is much Estonia can do for itself, but it will remain vulnerable without significant external support.

Recommendations

  • Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Estonia’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
  • Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
  • Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
  • Increase active Estonian forces to divisional strength.
  • Equip these forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
  • Solicit increased security assistance from wealthier allies and partners in the form of needed equipment and funding.
  • Revise Estonian conscription laws to expand military manpower and extend service commitments.
  • Prepare the national territory for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
  • Increase in-place NATO forces from battalion to brigade strength with enablers.
  • Conduct detailed contingency planning and regular NATO exercises to practice rapid reinforcement.
  • Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
  • Strengthen national cyber defense and resilience measures.
  • Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 4: Gotland

Situated in the middle of the Baltic Sea, the island of Gotland confers major advantages to any regional power in time of war.147 These include air and maritime dominance over the Baltic Sea and environs; enhanced security for Kaliningrad and the Russian Baltic Fleet; a strike platform and “unsinkable aircraft carrier” to threaten Sweden and the other Nordic powers; and an intelligence-gathering site to extend the reach of Russian sensors in the region. The Swedish government openly recognizes a deteriorating security environment.148 Russian leaders, citing Swedish efforts to shore up Gotland’s defenses, state publicly that “western actions in Gotland, Bornholm, and other islands in the Baltic Sea threaten Russian national security . . . Russia will soon have no choice but to respond militarily.”149 For these reasons, Swedish leaders are increasingly concerned that Russia might seize the island in time of crisis or war.150

Scenario 4: Russia could attempt to occupy the Swedish island of Gotland, located in the middle of the Baltic Sea through which 40 percent of Russia’s energy exports flow. If a surprise attack by naval infantry or VDV forces overwhelms the island’s defenses, control of the Baltic would shift from NATO to Russia—a possible prelude to larger-scale attacks. 

Gotland encompasses 3,200 square kilometers and lies 224 km from Stockholm and 345 km from Kaliningrad. A major Hanseatic trading emporium in medieval times, the island was ceded to Sweden from Denmark-Norway in 1645 and was briefly occupied by Russian troops in 1808 during the Napoleonic Wars. Gotland has sixty-one thousand inhabitants and its economy is based principally on agriculture and tourism. Its largest municipality is Visby, with twenty-two thousand citizens. The island is largely forested and free of ice year-round, with regular air and ferry service. There is one 2,000-meter airfield suitable for military use.

At the height of the Cold War, the Gotland garrison numbered some twenty-five thousand soldiers.151 Demilitarized in 2004, Gotland gained greater attention as a strategic flashpoint following the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014. Control of the island gives Sweden, and NATO, virtual command of the air and maritime domains in the Baltic Sea, potentially a decisive advantage in times of conflict. In 2017, the Gotland regiment was reconstituted as a mechanized infantry battalion with CV90 infantry fighting vehicles and a company of Leopard 2 tanks.152 There is also a Home Guard reserve battalion, but no artillery. An air defense battery equipped with a modest array of air defense systems provides limited coverage.153

Russian forces in the area are based in Kaliningrad and consist of the Baltic Fleet, a naval infantry brigade, a motor rifle division with supporting units, and strong air defense, anti-ship missile, and aviation formations.154 The fleet includes one attack submarine, one destroyer, two frigates, fourteen corvettes, and an assortment of smaller patrol craft, minesweepers, landing craft, and support vessels.155 Some nuclear systems are reportedly based in the exclave.156 Gotland falls just inside the range of Russian S-400 long-range air defense systems based in Kaliningrad and is well within range of Russian missile systems.

Should Russian leaders decide to confront NATO in the Baltic region, seizure of Gotland is almost imperative, both to deny NATO its strategic advantages and to secure them for Russia itself.157 For commercial as well as military reasons, control of the Baltic Sea is critical, as 40 percent of Russia’s total energy exports transit the region.158 This might be attempted as a standalone operation to set conditions for future aggression, or as a supporting effort for larger-scale attacks.

A Russian coup de main against Gotland would, in all probability, avoid the use of conventional motor rifle or tank units. Naval infantry or VDV forces in brigade strength, assisted by the Baltic Fleet and supporting aviation and missile units, would likely conduct the operation with little advance warning.159 (One battalion of the 336th Naval Infantry Brigade at Kaliningrad is trained in airborne operations.) As in other scenarios, Russian SOF would be inserted clandestinely prior to invasion and commercial air and sea platforms might be used to preserve surprise.160 (Russian ground forces in Kaliningrad would remain in place to defend against possible NATO reprisals.) Sabotage against critical infrastructure, such as the power grid, is likely.161 With surprise, these forces could overwhelm the defenders before Swedish reinforcements from the mainland could arrive. If successful, control of the Baltic Sea would shift from NATO to Russia—a decisive outcome.

To deter such an attack, or to successfully defend should deterrence fail, Sweden should increase its ground defense force on Gotland from battalion to brigade strength; position stronger artillery, air defense, and anti-ship missile units there; rehearse rapid reinforcement with Swedish SOF and the 1st Marine Regiment; conduct annual exercises with potential NATO reinforcements; prepare the terrain for defense with obstacles, mines, and field fortifications; and pre-position supplies and ammunition.162 Based on intelligence indicators, the Swedish military should be ready to increase air and sea patrols on short notice to provide early warning.

Attacking a major NATO state carries risks, to be sure, but the rewards for Russia are also great—a decisive strategic setback for the Alliance, a punishing blow to Sweden in response to its actions in joining NATO, and the intimidation of neighbor states such as Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, and Finland. Should Russian planners conclude that a coordinated, heavy response from NATO is unlikely, the prospects for a coup de main to seize Gotland could increase greatly.

Effective defense of Gotland, however, is certainly within Sweden’s means and would require strengthening the garrison in the near term. All this will require extensive diplomacy and domestic political work. Unlike the Svalbard and Åland cases, however, there are no treaty impediments or local autonomy considerations. If completed, these preparations can ensure that NATO holds the trump cards in any Baltic crisis.

Recommendations

  • Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Sweden’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened.
  • Implement focused diplomatic and government information programs to inform residents and neighbors of forthcoming actions to improve local defense.
  • Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
  • Increase Swedish ground forces on Gotland from battalion to brigade strength.
  • Incorporate NATO contingents in the Gotland defense force.
  • Station a 155-millimeter (mm) self-propelled artillery regiment on Gotland equipped with the Swedish FH77BW L52 “Archer” system.163
  • Position an air defense battalion on the island equipped with the Swedish Saab MSHORAD system.164
  • Site anti-ship missile units on Gotland equipped with the Swedish RBS15 system.165
  • Conduct detailed contingency planning and rehearse rapid reinforcement through regular exercises, beginning with BALTOPS 2026.
  • Pre-position critical supplies.
  • Establish obstacles and fortifications on key terrain.
  • Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.

Target 5: Land bridge to Kaliningrad

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, the Russian exclave at Kaliningrad has been separated from mainland Russia by some 300 km. As Russia’s only ice-free port in the west and the home anchorage of the Baltic Fleet, it is a critical strategic asset. Supplied overland and by air and sea through NATO territory, and contiguous to powerful Polish forces, Kaliningrad is extremely vulnerable should conflict erupt—especially following Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO. From a geostrategic perspective, this situation is untenable for Russia and, under the right circumstances, a sudden and large-scale strike through Lithuania to link up with the Kaliningrad garrison would yield important and even decisive advantages.

Scenario 5: Russia could invade Lithuania with a sudden, large-scale strike to link up with the Kaliningrad garrison, a Russian exclave surrounded by NATO member territory. Home to the Baltic Fleet and the country’s only ice-free port in the west, Kaliningrad is 300 km from mainland Russia and extremely vulnerable in a NATO-Russia conflict. An invasion of Lithuania could be preceded by seven to ten days of strategic warning, probably masked as an exercise.

With a population of 2.9 million and a surface area of 65,000 square kilometers, Lithuania borders Latvia to the north, Poland to the south, Belarus to the east, and the Baltic Sea to the west. The largest country in Europe in the fourteenth century, Lithuania occupied Moscow in 1410 as part of the Lithuanian-Polish Commonwealth in the Livonian War, but was absorbed into the Russian Empire in the late 1700s. Except for a brief period of independence between the world wars and German occupation from 1941–1944, Lithuania was a Russian and later Soviet possession, regaining its independence in 1991 (the United States, however, did not recognize its loss of sovereignty at any time). With modern transportation and industrial infrastructure, Lithuania is a prosperous, stable democracy, a member of the European Union, and a NATO ally. Its terrain is generally forested and rolling, or flat with few large urban centers. The capital, Vilnius, is located only 38 km from the Belorussian border.

Lithuania’s modest defense budget of $2.1 billion supports two regular brigades (one mechanized and one motorized), a reserve brigade, and a number of territorial defense battalions. Current plans call for this force to increase to divisional strength over the next few years.166 At present, Lithuania has no tanks or fighter aircraft, and no frigates, destroyers, or submarines in its navy. A German-led NATO battalion battle group is forward deployed in Lithuania and Germany has announced plans to increase this force to brigade strength by 2027, though internal political challenges might curtail this initiative.167 A US tank battalion and artillery battalion, drawn from the “heel-to-toe” rotational heavy brigade deployed to Poland, are also present and headquartered in Pabrade.168 Swedish and Finnish air, maritime, and special operations forces might operate against Russian forces in the Baltic littorals but would probably not participate in strength on the ground.

Russian leaders make no secret of their desire to reincorporate the Baltic states into the Russian Federation. On multiple occasions, Putin has asserted the right to intervene using military force to “protect” ethnic Russians living abroad, citing the return of the Baltics and other former Russian territories as a matter of “historical justice.”169 Such talk is no mere rhetoric. Since Putin’s strident presentation at the Munich Security Conference in 2007, Russia has invaded Georgia (where Russian troops remain), occupied the Donbas, annexed Crimea, and invaded Ukraine, leading to hundreds of thousands of deaths and the destruction of entire cities.170

What conditions could entice Putin to contemplate a sudden strike into Lithuania? US disengagement from NATO or withdrawal of troops from Europe, major conflict or tension with China that diverts US resources, an assessment that NATO would not respond, or internal challenges to the Russian regime requiring an external enemy could all factor into a decision to invade. The rise of right-wing, nationalist governments in Europe and a calculation that Russia should strike before NATO can harden its defenses in the Baltic region are also considerations. At least from the Russian perspective, some or all of these might apply in the near term, leading to a risk assessment that the potential gains of the venture outweigh the costs. At present, the war in Ukraine appears to be at a stalemate, with neither side likely to achieve a decisive victory. Should it harden into stasis, Russia can rearm and reequip its armed forces as Putin looks elsewhere in pursuit of his imperial ambitions.

An invasion of Lithuania would probably be conducted by the 1GTA, based in western Russia, with perhaps 7–10 days of strategic warning (probably masked as an exercise). 1GTA consists of two tank divisions, one motor rifle division, an independent motor rifle brigade, and supporting aviation, artillery, air defense, electronic warfare, and other enabling units. An airborne division and special operations (Spetsnaz) brigade would precede the main force. Marshaling in the vicinity of Minsk, the main effort would be a rapid attack across the Lithuanian border with two divisions along improved roads through Vilnius and Kaunas to link up with Kaliningrad, cutting off the Baltic states altogether and preventing NATO reinforcements from entering the region. A supporting effort with one division and one independent brigade would deal with Latvian forces, perhaps in tandem with elements of the Russian 6th Combined Arms Army (based in St. Petersburg), pinning down Estonian forces. These attacks would be supported by heavy ballistic missile strikes. The powerful Kaliningrad garrison is a grave concern as it is well postured to attack Lithuanian forces from the rear.171

Together, these forces represent less than 20 percent of Russian force structure, leaving substantial forces for Ukraine and other contingencies. Intense Russian disinformation, subversion, and cyberattacks would complement kinetic operations. Many experts assume that Russian forces will attack from jumping-off positions in Belarus and pass through the 64-mile-wide Suwałki Gap in northeastern Poland, the shortest and most direct path to Kaliningrad.172 However, that route will ensure that Russian forces take on the Polish Armed Forces, among the best in NATO, with their hundreds of tanks and dozens of fighter aircraft. The alternate route through Vilnius, the Lithuanian capital, avoids Polish territory and might well limit Polish participation inside the Baltic states.

Here geography favors Russia. As a virtual satellite state, Belarus is an ideal staging ground for Russian operations against Lithuania. Meaningful NATO reinforcements must come from hundreds of kilometers away and are far from ready (Germany, France, Italy, and the UK cannot deploy a single division to Lithuania in less than 60–90 days—far too slow to affect the outcome). The remaining option is to rely on host nation solutions and in-place NATO forces. This approach will require significant security assistance to the Baltic states and strong support from key allies, but the Baltics themselves must step up first. Although small in population and GDP, they are capable of much more than they are doing now. With a combined population of some 6 million, only twenty-two thousand Baltic citizens are under arms. Most are contract soldiers who serve short tours of duty. Thirty thousand partially trained and equipped reservists are also on the books. In comparison, with a similarly sized population, Finland fielded more than five hundred thousand troops in the 1941 Continuation War. Tiny Latvia fielded a seventy-thousand-man army during its War of Independence in 1919. The Estonian army at the same time fielded eighty thousand. Today, Israel, with a mobilizable population of some 7 million, fields an active army of 170,000 with another 465,000 upon full mobilization.

These examples show that the Baltic states can do much more to increase their own defense potential. Universal conscription of males aged 18–24 for a period of two years, with fair compensation and incentives for those who choose to become career soldiers and officers, would yield an order of magnitude improvement in size and quality and provide the basis for expanding Baltic ground forces at lower cost than expensive professional soldiers.

A reasonable goal is for each of the Baltic states to field one active and one reserve division with enablers such as artillery, air defense, engineer, logistics, electronic warfare, and signal battalions—about 10,000–12,000 soldiers. (Lithuania, with its larger economy and population, should also field an additional independent heavy brigade.) At least one brigade in each division should be a heavy or mechanized formation with one tank and two mechanized battalions. The others should be motorized to allow battlefield mobility. Each brigade should include a direct-support field artillery battalion (ideally self-propelled 155-mm howitzers), air defense battery, engineer company, logistics company, electronic warfare company, reconnaissance company, and signals company. A general-support 155-mm artillery battalion with attached multiple-launch rocket system (MLRS) battery should be provided at division level. Maneuver units should be liberally supplied with modern drones as well as fire-and-forget anti-tank and man-portable air defense systems. Reserves should be organized to provide combat replacements (recently discharged soldiers are best for this task) as well as territorial defense units to secure critical infrastructure.

These formations should be supported by NATO mechanized or armored brigades in each of the Baltic states, as promised at Madrid in 2022.173 Forward defense is critical, as US and UK naval units will likely not operate inside the Baltic Sea and, in the opening stages, NATO airpower will struggle to reduce Russian air defenses and gain air supremacy, making air-to-ground operations and close air support largely unavailable.174 Poland is the best candidate to provide this brigade for Lithuania, as it is closest, more ready than others, and will be in great peril should Lithuania be overrun. High-altitude air and ballistic missile defense and fighter aviation are all-important and must also come from NATO, as small Baltic defense budgets cannot support them. These enhancements would yield a ground force of thirteen active brigades (seven of which are heavy), adequate to initially defend against the anticipated Russian first echelon—that is, 1GTA—and to impose significant costs on an attacking force. Given the enormous expense and long lead times required, the Baltic states should not attempt to procure fighter aircraft or major surface combatants, which must come from larger NATO allies.

The Russian garrison at Kaliningrad is, of course, a major concern in this scenario as it poses a direct threat to the rear of Lithuanian and NATO forces and to supporting allied air and naval activity. (Much of the garrison was deployed to Ukraine in 2022, where it was badly damaged. It has not yet been reconstituted.175) Here there are two challenges. The first is to eliminate the air defense threat, which extends for hundreds of kilometers over the operational area, to reduce or nullify NATO air operations.176 Only a well-executed aerial campaign, mounted in strength and supplemented by land, sea, and air-based missile strikes, can achieve this aim.177 The second is dealing with Russian ground forces based there.178 As sovereign Russian territory since 1945, any direct assault on Kaliningrad would probably elicit nuclear threats from Moscow, but actual use is problematic. The solution is likely a Polish-led operation to either mask or defeat the Kaliningrad garrison, in concert with strong NATO air operations to degrade the air defense threat, with or without an actual takeover.179 In this way, Lithuanian and forward-deployed NATO forces are left free to confront attacking Russian forces at the border.

While the Baltic states can certainly field larger forces demographically, they will need help financially from wealthier allies such as the United States, Germany, France, the UK, and Italy (these contributions can, and should, be counted against NATO defense spending goals).180 There are other innovative ways to help. For example, the US Army maintains a large stockpile of excess equipment—including M1A1 tanks, M2 Bradley fighting vehicles, and many other items—in storage.181 With minor refurbishment, some can be quickly returned to full operational status and transferred to the Baltic states as excess defense articles through the Defense Security Cooperation Agency (DSCA).182 For the first few years, US contract advisers can be provided to train new crews on maintenance and operations. Sustained funding would be required to ensure a regular pipeline of spare parts and ammunition.

These steps will go far to improve the ability of the Baltic states to defend themselves, but more is required. Like West Germany during the Cold War, the Baltic states should organize the national territory for defense. This means pre-chambering key bridges and overpasses for demolition; stockpiling munitions and developing plans to emplace minefields in key locations in accordance with a national obstacle plan; hardening command posts and logistics storage areas; constructing field fortifications; and preparing anti-tank obstacles along avenues of approach.183 Civil defense preparations such as stockpiling food and medical supplies, potable water, oil, and natural gas will be needed. Such measures need not unduly disrupt civilian life, but they will go far to enhance deterrence and defense.

The existing solution is the NATO Multinational Corps Northeast (MNC-NE), a German-Polish-Danish formation located in Szczecin, Poland, on the Oder River near the German border. However, MNC-E is separated geographically from the area of operations (it is 900 km from Szczecin to the Lithuanian border and more than 1,200 km to Tallinn) and does not currently possess a trained battle staff closely linked to the Baltics. The corps also lacks many of the enablers required. MNC-E can play a vital role in organizing the reception, staging, and onward movement of reinforcing NATO forces in Poland and, with augmentation, can provide a corps-level headquarters to command Polish forces should Poland itself be attacked.

To provide C2 for Baltic ground forces, a Baltic corps headquarters with NATO-trained Baltic commanders and staff officers and NATO augmentees is probably the best solution. This formation should be commanded by a Lithuanian lieutenant general with a two-star deputy and chief of staff, respectively, from Estonia and Latvia. Enablers are essential and should include corps artillery, air defense, engineer, signal, logistics, medical, intelligence, and electronic warfare units. Importing one of NATO’s many lower-readiness corps headquarters is not a realistic option.

Recommendations

  • Conduct public diplomacy to reinforce Lithuania’s determination to defend its sovereign territory and NATO’s commitment to assist when threatened; state clearly that if attacked, Kaliningrad will not enjoy sanctuary if Russia attacks a NATO ally.
  • Establish declaratory policy that Russian aggression on NATO territory in the Baltic region will result in closure of the Baltic straits to all Russian commercial maritime traffic.
  • Increase active and reserve Baltic forces to divisional strength.
  • Equip these forces with tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, air defense, and electronic warfare units.
  • Establish a combined Baltic corps headquarters with NATO advisers and appropriate enablers.
  • Solicit increased security assistance from wealthier allies and partners in the form of needed equipment and funding.
  • Revise Baltic conscription laws to expand military manpower and extend service commitments.
  • Prepare the national territory for defense with fortifications and obstacles.
  • Increase in-place NATO forces from battalion to brigade strength with enablers.
  • Conduct detailed contingency planning and rehearsals, along with regular NATO exercises, to practice rapid reinforcement, with emphasis on Polish participation.
  • Stockpile supplies of fuel, ammunition, and spare parts.
  • Strengthen Baltic naval establishments with anti-ship missiles and coastal patrol craft.
  • Strengthen national cyber defense and resilience measures.
  • Establish NATO defensive counter-air patrols if Russian aggression is imminent.
  • Coordinate with NATO on measures to deal with Kaliningrad in time of war.

Observations

The foregoing discussion suggests that, while steps are being taken to strengthen deterrence in the Nordic-Baltic region, much remains to be done.184 Current trends indicate a reduced US presence in Europe, which must embolden Putin as he considers next steps in executing a broader agenda to reincorporate former Russian imperial territories, fracture NATO and the EU, position Russia as a world power, and improve Russia’s geostrategic posture.185 The Nordic-Baltic region is a high priority for Russian planners for several reasons: its prosperous democracies present a deadly threat to Putin’s regime as thriving examples of what the Russian people might aspire to without Putin; gaining Russian possession would add strategic depth that is now lacking, particularly with respect to high-value locations like the Kola Peninsula, St. Petersburg, and Kaliningrad; successful military operations offer opportunities to damage or collapse the NATO Alliance at lower risk than direct confrontation with the major powers; and the prospect of reincorporating former territories can, from the Russian perspective, only enhance the stability of the regime and Russia’s standing as a world power.186

One area that deserves special mention is the advent of drones—unmanned or uncrewed air and maritime vehicles. As the conflict in Ukraine clearly demonstrates, they have come to dominate the battlefield. From large weapons that can strike over hundreds of kilometers with large payloads, to small commercial drones that can be used to attack individual soldiers, drones are superseding, though not replacing, other forms of combat power.187

As technology advances at speed, microprocessors become both smaller and more powerful, increasing range, accuracy, explosive power and endurance, and doing so at lower cost. Both Ukraine and Russia employ, and lose, tens of thousands of drones per month.188 Their prolific use enables dynamic, real-time targeting and situational awareness to a degree unknown before. Very soon, autonomous drone swarms that can acquire and attack targets without operator control (and therefore downlinks that can be jammed) will appear.189 They will be used to attack enemy targets and to counter enemy drones, as well as for persistent surveillance.190 To cope with this emerging reality, all NATO allies—but particularly those most threatened—must embrace drone and counter-drone warfare as a matter of urgency. That means fielding capable electronic warfare units in all tactical formations; acquiring commercial, off-the-shelf unmanned platforms at scale and integrating them into training and doctrine programs; investing in cutting-edge technology to stay abreast of rapid advances in capability; and fostering organizational cultures that can support and exploit these extraordinary changes. In so doing, allies should avoid the trap of buying large, costly platforms in favor of cheaper, more readily available, easier to replace systems that can be employed by the average soldier.191

This study identifies numerous shortfalls, such as air and ballistic missile defense, lack of reserves, low readiness, inadequate force structure, and others. At the Alliance level, one capability is glaring for its absence: the lack of a genuinely high-readiness, air-transportable combat force that can project meaningful combat power to threatened areas on short notice. Through 2002, that force existed in the form of the Allied Command Europe Mobile Force or AMF, a formation manned by fourteen troop-contributing nations commanded by a NATO major general and battle staff. Built primarily around parachute battalion battlegroups from major allies such as the United States, France, the UK, Germany, and Italy, the AMF included light artillery, antitank, engineer, and air defense units and could deploy with as little as 48–72 hours’ notice. The intent was to provide a credible force that could move rapidly to threatened areas to demonstrate Alliance resolve. As these units still exist in many NATO countries, maintained at high readiness and able to move quickly using national air transport, it makes sense to recreate the AMF to provide rapid response options for SACEUR that are now lacking. Such a force could play a major role in all of the scenarios addressed in this study.192

Relatedly, the current NATO command structure is also not optimized for today’s threat environment and invites revision. At present Svalbard is in Joint Force Command (JFC) Norfolk’s area of responsibility (AOR). Located more than 6,000 km away in Virginia and commanded by a US three-star admiral, JFC Norfolk is primarily a maritime headquarters whose chief responsibility is securing the sea lanes of communication in the North Atlantic. A better solution would be to establish a “JFC North” command under a Swedish or Finnish four-star, perhaps supported in this scenario by NATO’s Maritime Command, with responsibility for the Nordic region. Similarly, scenarios two through five fall under JFC Brunssum, located in the Netherlands and also far from the scene. Commanded by a German or Italian four-star, JFC Brunssum lacks a fully manned battle staff and is commanded by an officer whose parent nation would not provide the bulk of the forces needed to resist Russian aggression. A more optimal arrangement is to establish a “JFC East” in Poland—perhaps in Szczecin—under a Polish four-star. Ideally, for all scenarios the NATO command structure should align with the principles of geographic proximity (to ensure a fuller understanding of local conditions), preponderance of force, and national sensitivities.193 These commands should be fully staffed with officers with strong expertise in the region.

Summary

Future Russian military operations in the Baltic and Nordic regions are not certain but could well occur in the near to medium term, given recent examples of Russian aggression and repeated Russian claims to former and disputed territories. The prospect of US withdrawal or disengagement from Europe can only serve to encourage such aggression. Russian leaders have made clear that they consider the war in Ukraine to be a conflict with NATO and the West, and that they aspire to recover former Russian lands.194 NATO and host nation planners and leaders should prepare accordingly to deter and, if necessary, defend these areas to preclude escalation and preserve NATO solidarity and cohesion, as well as the sovereignty and territorial integrity of member states. These measures should assume limited US participation. Should certain allies block an effective Alliance response based on Article 5, contingency planning for coalition-based responses is prudent. The UK-led Joint Expeditionary Force, which includes the Nordic and Baltic countries as well as the Netherlands, is one example.195

The steps described herein are well within the capabilities of NATO allies. Essential factors are a shared understanding of the threat and the political will to deter or counter Russian aggression. In the recent past, Russia has demonstrated repeatedly that perceived weakness invites aggression. Accordingly, this project is intended to provide specific, realistic, and practical options for policy and military planners to deter potential Russian aggression against NATO members in the Nordic and Baltic regions. The danger is immediate and real, and effective solutions are urgent and imperative.

The author acknowledges review and comment from the following experts in the preparation of this study:

Field Marshal Lord Richards; Field Marshal Lord Houghton; General Phil Breedlove; Admiral Jamie Foggo; General Sir James Everard; Ambassador Doug Lute; Ambassador Sandy Vershbow; Frank Kramer; Ian Brzezinski; Ambassador Tomasz Szatkowski;  Professor Sir Hew Strachan; Giedrimas Jeglinskas MP; Karolis Aleksa; Vaidotas Urbelis; Janne Kuusela; Major General Pekka Toveri; Rasmus Hindren; Fredrik Lindvall; Kate Hansen Bundt; Marius Endsjø; Dr Hans Binnendijk; Dr. Fiona Hill; Nina Borgen; Vice Admiral Sir Martin Connell; Lieutenant General Arne Dalhaug; Lieutenant General Rick Waddell; Lieutenant General Ben Hodges; Lieutenant General Michel Yakovleff; Lieutenant General Sir Nick Borton; Air Marshal Sir Chris Harper; Liis Mure; Steve Shapiro Esq.; Professor S. Neil MacFarlane; Major General Gordon Davis; Brigadier General Peter Zwack; Air Commodore Carl Scott; Dr. Tormod Heier; Colonel Seth Johnston

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The Transatlantic Security Initiative aims to reinforce the strong and resilient transatlantic relationship that is prepared to deter and defend, succeed in strategic competition, and harness emerging capabilities to address future threats and opportunities.

1    Pavel Luzin, “Russia Reorganizes Military Districts,” Jamestown Foundation, February 29, 2024, https://jamestown.org/program/russia-reorganizes-military-districts.
2    These scenarios figure prominently in recent publications such as “If Russia Wins” by noted NATO scholar Carlo Masala and “War with Russia” by former Deputy SACEUR General Sir Richard Shirreff, both best sellers.
3    Tom Dunlop, “Germany Warns Russia May Be Preparing Attack on NATO,” UK Defense Journal, March 29, 2025, https://ukdefencejournal.org.uk/germany-warns-russia-may-be-preparing-attack-on-nato; Anne Kauranen, “Finland’s Intelligence Chief Urges Vigilance over Planned Russian Military Build-up,” Reuters, January 16, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/finlands-intelligence-chief-urges-vigilance-over-planned-russian-military-build-2025-01-16/; Aleks Phillips and Paulin Kola, “Sweden Says Russia Is Greatest Threat to Its Security,” BBC, March 11, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c89y8gn2w8vo.
4    Nicole Bibbins Sedaca, “Russia’s Attack on Ukraine Is Part of a Larger Wave of Authoritarianism,” Bush Center, Spring 2022, https://www.bushcenter.org/catalyst/ukraine/bibbins-sedaca-russia-attack-on-ukraine-part-of-wave-of-authoritarianism.
5    Joshua Kurlantzick, “The Growing, Broad, Authoritarian Network and Its Ramifications for the World,” Council on Foreign Relations, last visited November 3, 2025, https://www.cfr.org/project/new-global-authoritarianism-china-and-russias-strategic-support-autocracies.
6    Koen Verhelst, “EU Wields ‘Sledgehammer’ Against Trump Tariffs,” Politico, March 12, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/eu-tariffs-donald-trump-diplomat-eu-war-defending-nation-bloc/.
7    Ben Friedman, “A New NATO Agenda: Less U.S., Less Dependency,” Defense Priorities, July 8, 2024, https://www.defensepriorities.org/explainers/a-new-nato-agenda/.
8    Dan Sabbagh, “US No Longer ‘Primarily Focused’ on Europe’s Security, Ssays Pete Hegseth,” Guardian, February 12, 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/feb/12/us-no-longer-primarily-focused-on-europes-security-says-pete-hegseth.
9    “Germany’s likely next chancellor has warned that the United States cares little about Europe’s fate,” as quoted in: Henry Ridgewell, “German Election Winner: Europe Must Defend Itself as US ‘Does Not Care,” Voice of America, February 25, 2025.
10    Giuseppe Spatafora, “The Trump Card: What Could US Abandonment of Europe Look Like?” European Institute for Security Studies, February 17, 2025, https://www.iss.europa.eu/publications/briefs/trump-card-what-could-us-abandonment-europe-look.
11    This section is adapted from: Richard D. Hooker, Jr., “Building a Stronger Europe,” Harvard Kennedy School’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, February 12, 2025, https://www.belfercenter.org/research-analysis/building-stronger-europe-companion-new-transatlantic-bargain.
13    “Conflict-Related Civilian Casualties in Ukraine,” United Nations Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine, January 27, 2022, https://ukraine.un.org/sites/default/files/2022-02/Conflict-related%20civilian%20casualties%20as%20of%2031%20December%202021%20%28rev%2027%20January%202022%29%20corr%20EN_0.pdf.
14    Bojan Pancevski, “One Million Are Now Dead or Injured in the Russia-Ukraine War,” Wall Street Journal, September 17, 2024, https://www.wsj.com/world/one-million-are-now-dead-or-injured-in-the-russia-ukraine-war-b09d04e5; Yurri Clavilier and Michael Gjerstad, “Combat Losses and Manpower Challenges Underscore the Importance of ‘Mass’ in Ukraine,”International Institute of Strategic Studies, February 10, 2025, https://www.iiss.org/online-analysis/military-balance/2025/02/combat-losses-and-manpower-challenges-underscore-the-importance-of-mass-in-ukraine/.
15    Paul Goble, Mairbek Vatchagaev, and Valeriy Dzutsati, “Nationalities at War: Non-Ethnic Russians in Putin’s War against Ukraine,” Saratoga Foundation, April 25, 2025, https://www.saratoga-foundation.org/p/eurasia-outlook-nationalities-at.   
16    Jakub Janovsky, et al., “Attack on Europe: Documenting Russian Equipment Losses During the Russian Invasion of Ukraine,” Oryx, February 24, 2022, https://www.oryxspioenkop.com/2022/02/attack-on-europe-documenting-equipment.html.
17    Andrew A. Michta and Joslyn Brodfuehrer, “NATO-Russia Dynamics: Prospects for Reconstitution of Russian Military Power,” Atlantic Council, September 19, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/nato-russia-dynamics-prospects-for-reconstitution-of-russian-military-power/.
18    Murray Brewster, “Ravaged by War, Russia’s Army Is Rebuilding with Surprising Speed,” CBC News, February 23, 2024, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/russia-army-ukraine-war-1.7122808.
19    Mark Trevelyan and Greg Torode, “Russia Refits Old Tanks after Losing 3,000 in Ukraine—Research Centre,” Reuters, February 13, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/russia-relying-old-stocks-after-losing-3000-tanks-ukraine-leading-military-2024-02-13/.
20    “Ukraine Receives UAH 267B in Western Aid over Three Years of War,” UKRINFORM, February 15, 2025, https://www.ukrinform.net/rubric-economy/3960455-ukraine-receives-uah-267b-in-western-aid-over-three-years-of-war.html; Thomas Grove, “The Russian Military Moves that Have Europe on Edge,” Wall Street Journal, April 27, 2025, https://www.msn.com/en-us/politics/international-relations/the-russian-military-moves-that-have-europe-on-edge/ar-AA1DJhEx.
21    Camille Gijs, Jakob Hanke Vela, and Nicolas Camut, “Russia Is Getting Better at Evading Western Sanctions on Electronics, US Official Says,” Politico, June 8, 2023, https://www.politico.eu/article/russia-better-evading-western-sanctions-electronics-war-ukraine/.
22    “Russian Federation,” International Monetary Fund, last visited November 3, 2025, https://www.imf.org/en/Countries/RUS.
23    “Missiles of Russia,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, last updated August 10, 2021, https://missilethreat.csis.org/country/russia/.
24    “Missiles of Russia,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, last updated August 10, 2021, https://missilethreat.csis.org/country/russia/
25    “Russia’s Nuclear Inventory,” Center for Arms Control and Non-proliferation,” September 2022, https://armscontrolcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/Russias-Nuclear-Inventory-091522.pdf.
26    Anna Fratsyvir, “Destroyed Russian Bombers Seen in First Satellite Images after Ukrainian Drone Strike,” Kyiv Independent, June 2, 2025, https://kyivindependent.com/first-satellite-images-show-destroyed-russian-bombers-after-ukrainian-drone-strike-on-belaya-air-base/.
27    These are 1GTA, 6 CAA, 20 Guards CAA, 8 Guards CAA, 5 CAA, 49 CAA, 58 CAA, 41 CAA, 2 Guards CAA, 35 CAA, 36 CAA, 29 CAA, 25 CAA, 14 CAA and 18 CAA. Three army corps are identified, though force structure changes are under way (11th, 68th, and 3rd). See: Mason Clark and Karolina Hird, “Russian Regular Ground Forces Order of Battle,” Institute for the Study of War, October 2023, https://www.degruyterbrill.com/document/doi/10.1515/sirius-2024-1015/html?lang=en&srsltid=AfmBOopfNKuElg6WTdhEThbuZ7H1ST6SoMpzII6PEFCW_9aorJwjyOj1; Karolina Hird, “Restructuring and Expansion of the Russian Ground Forces Hindered by Ukraine War Requirements,” Institute for the Study of War,November 12, 2023, https://understandingwar.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Special20Campaign20Assessment20November2012_0.pdf.
28    Christina Harward, et al., “Russian Offensive Campaign Assessment February 15, 2025,” Institute for the Study of War, February 16, 2025, https://www.understandingwar.org/backgrounder/russian-offensive-campaign-assessment-february-15-2025.
29    The Western Military District was split into the Leningrad and Moscow Military Districts in 2024. The Russian Northern Fleet and Arctic Joint Strategic Command lost its status as a military district in this reorganization. See: Luzin, “Russia Reorganizes Military Districts.”
30    Colonel (Ret) Ted Donnelly, et al., “How Russia Fights,” US Army Europe and Africa, March 2025, https://api.army.mil/e2/c/downloads/2025/07/11/f2b1e75e/how-russia-fights-a-compendium-of-troika-observations-on-russia-s-special-military-operations.pdf.
31    The 104th Air Assault Division. Hird, “Restructuring and Expansion of the Russian Ground Forces Hindered by Ukraine War Requirements,” 7.
32    Lester W. Grau, “The Russian Army Is an Artillery Army with Tanks” in Donnelly, et al., “How Russia Fights,” 33.
33    Jon Jackson, “Russia’s Elite Airborne Suffers ‘Exceptionally Heavy Losses,’” Newsweek, December 14, 2023, https://www.newsweek.com/russia-elite-airborne-suffers-exceptionally-heavy-losses-1852673.
34    Raphael Parens, “Wagner Group Redefined: Threats and Responses,” Foreign Policy Research Institute, January 30, 2023, https://www.fpri.org/article/2023/01/wagner-group-redefined-threats-and-responses/#:~:text=Bottom%20Line%20*%20Wagner%20Group%20has%20suffered,and%20the%20Kremlin%20are%20focused%20on%20Ukraine.
35    Karen Philippa Larsen, “The Rise and Fall of the Wagner Group,” Danish Institute for International Studies, January 9, 2025, https://www.diis.dk/en/research/the-rise-and-fall-of-the-wagner-group.
36    Lasha Tchantouridze, “Why Russia’s Military Reforms Failed in Ukraine,” National Interest, October 15, 2022, https://nationalinterest.org/feature/why-russias-military-reforms-failed-ukraine-205338.
37    Mykhaylo Zabrodskyi, et al., “Preliminary Lessons in Conventional Warfighting from Russia’s Invasion of Ukraine,” RUSI Journal, February–July 2022, https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/special-resources/preliminary-lessons-conventional-warfighting-russias-invasion-ukraine-february-july-2022.
38    Lucy Papachristou, “Senior Russian Commanders Killed by Ukraine since Start of the War,” Reuters, July 3, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/senior-russian-commanders-killed-by-ukraine-since-start-war-2025-07-03/.
39    Michael Kofman, “Assessing Russian Military Adaptation in 2023,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, October 2024, 47, https://carnegie-production-assets.s3.amazonaws.com/static/files/Kofman-Russia-final-2.pdf.
40    Mathieu Boulègue, et al., “Assessing Russian Plans for Military Regeneration,” Chatham House, July 9, 2024, https://www.chathamhouse.org/2024/07/assessing-russian-plans-military-regeneration/02-manpower-force-structure-and-command-and.
41    Michael B. Petersen, “Toward an Understanding of Maritime Conflict with Russia” in Andrew Monahan and Richard Connoly, The Sea in Russian Strategy (Manchester UK: Manchester University Press, 2023), 212.
42    Andrew Monaghan, “Russia’s Naval Futures: New Horizons 2050,” NATO Defense College, November 2025, https://www.ndc.nato.int/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/2025_outlook_11.pdf.
43    “Russian Navy (2025),” World Directory of Modern Military Warships, 2025, https://www.wdmmw.org/russian-navy.php.
44    Eric Wertheim, “Russia’s Capable New SSGN,” US Naval Institute Proceedings, May 2020, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/2020/may/russias-capable-new-ssgn.
45    Scott Savitz and William Courtney, “The Black Sea and the Changing Face of Naval Warfare,” RAND, October 31, 2023, https://www.rand.org/pubs/commentary/2023/10/the-black-sea-and-the-changing-face-of-naval-warfare.html.
46    The UK Royal Navy has only sixteen surface combatants (two carriers, six destroyers, and eight frigates) plus five nuclear attack submarines; the Norwegian Navy has four frigates and six diesel/electric submarines optimized for coastal defense. The Finnish navy has no major surface combatants or submarines. For operations north of the GIUK gap, NATO will be hard pressed without the US Navy. “The Military Balance 2025,” International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2025, https://www.iiss.org/publications/the-military-balance/.
47    “Russian Air Force (2025) Aircraft Inventory,” World Directory of Modern Military Aircraft, 2025, https://www.wdmma.org/russian-air-force.php.
48    Douglas Barrie and Giorgio Di Mizio, “Moscow’s Aerospace Forces: No Air of Superiority,” International Institute for Strategic Studies, February 7, 2024, https://www.iiss.org/online-analysis/military-balance/2024/02/moscows-aerospace-forces-no-air-of-superiority/.
49    Maya Carlin, “The Russian Air Force Has Suffered Heavy Losses in Ukraine,” National Interest, April 28, 2025, https://nationalinterest.org/blog/buzz/the-russian-air-force-has-suffered-heavy-losses-in-ukraine.
50    Michael Bohnert, “The Russian Air Force Is Hollowing Itself Out. Air Defenses for Ukraine Would Speed that Up,” RAND, March 29, 2024, https://www.rand.org/pubs/commentary/2024/03/the-russian-air-force-is-hollowing-itself-out-air-defenses.html.
51    David A. Deptula, “Air Superiority and Russia’s War on Ukraine,” Air and Space Forces, July 26, 2024, https://www.airandspaceforces.com/article/air-superiority-and-russias-war-on-ukraine.
52    By 2034, European allies are projected to have more than six hundred fifth-generation F-35s. European allies currently field slightly more than two thousand fighter aircraft (F-16, F/A-18, Gripen, Eurofighter, Rafale, and some others). Audrey Decker, “F-35 Sales Rise as Russian Invasion Grinds on,” Defense One, March 23, 2023, https://www.defenseone.com/threats/2023/03/f-35-sales-rise-russian-invasion-grinds/384360/; “Fleet Size,” EUROCONTROL, October 1, 2025, https://ansperformance.eu/economics/cba/standard-inputs/chapters/fleet_size.html.
53    “Russia,” Freedom House, last visited November 3, 2025, https://freedomhouse.org/country/russia.
54    Witold Rodkiewicz, “Russia’s Political and Social Landscape in the Context of Geopolitical Risks,” Salzburg Global, December 18, 2023, https://www.salzburgglobal.org/news/topics/article/russias-political-and-social-landscape-in-the-context-of-geopolitical-risks.
55    Simon Saradzhyan, “Is Russia’s Economy Collapsing,” Russia Matters, February 6, 2025, https://www.russiamatters.org/blog/russias-economy-collapsing.
56    Brendan Cole, “Russian Ruble Collapses as Putin’s Economy in Trouble,” Newsweek, November 27, 2024, https://www.newsweek.com/russia-ruble-dollar-currency-economy-1992332.
57    Mark Temnycky, “Is 2025 the Year that Russia’s Economy Finally Freezes Up Under Sanctions?” Atlantic Council, January 8, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/is-2025-the-year-that-russias-economy-finally-freezes-up-under-sanctions.
58    Elena Fabrichnaya and Guy Faulconbridge, “What and Where Are Russia’s $300 Billion in Reserves Frozen in the West?” Reuters, December 28, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/what-where-are-russias-300-billion-reserves-frozen-west-2023-12-28/.
59    Oleksiy Hrushevsky, “The Collapse of the Russian Economy Is Near—Wage Arrears Have Tripled,” Online.UA, December 26, 2025, https://news.online.ua/en/the-collapse-of-the-russian-economy-is-near-wage-arrears-have-tripled-899906/.
60    “An unbiased assessment of Russia’s economic capabilities . . .… excludes almost any chances of a serious crisis caused by internal factors in at least three to five-years.” Ben Aris, “Russia’s Economy Is Tougher than It Looks, No Chance of a Crisis in the Next 3–5 Years,” BNE Intellinews, November 14, 2024, https://www.intellinews.com/russia-s-economy-is-tougher-than-it-looks-no-chance-of-a-crisis-in-the-next-3-5-years-case-353210.
61    Erik Brown, “The Baltic Sea at a Boil: Connecting the Shadow Fleet and Episodes of Subsea Infrastructure Sabotage,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, June 5, 2025, https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2025/06/baltic-russia-maritime-cable-sabotage/?lang=en.
62    “A Guide to Russia’s Resources,” Geohistory, January 8, 2025, https://geohistory.today/resource-extraction-export-russia/.
63    “EU Imports of Russian Fossil Fuels in Third Year of Invasion Surpass Financial Aid Sent to Ukraine,” Centre for Research of Energy and Clean Air, April 10, 2025, https://energyandcleanair.org/publication/eu-imports-of-russian-fossil-fuels-in-third-year-of-invasion-surpass-financial-aid-sent-to-ukraine/.
64    “US and Europe Do Billions in Trade with Russia Despite Sanctions,” Reuters, September 15, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/us-and-europe-do-billions-trade-with-russia-despite-sanctions-2025-09-15/.
65    “Russian Wage Growth Hits 16-Year Peak Amid Race to Find Workers,” Bloomberg, March 5, 2025, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2025-03-05/russian-wage-growth-hits-16-year-peak-amid-race-to-find-workers.
66    Philip Luck, “How Sanctions Have Shaped Russia’s Future,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, February 24, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/how-sanctions-have-reshaped-russias-future.
67    Heli Simola, “Falling Oil Prices Reduce Russia’s Budget Revenues,” Bank of Finland, May 5, 2025, https://www.bofbulletin.fi/en/blogs/2025/falling-oil-prices-reduce-russia-s-budget-revenues/.
68    “Russia’s economy has confounded expectations throughout the war and, despite suffering several complications, remains well-placed to support the Kremlin’s ambitions in Ukraine and beyond.” Richard Connolly, “Russia’s Wartime Economy Isn’t as Weak as It Looks,” Royal United Services Institute for Defence and Security Studies, January 22, 2025, https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/commentary/russias-wartime-economy-isnt-weak-it-looks.
69    Aaron Krolik, “Lack of New U.S. Sanctions Allows Restricted Goods and Funds into Russia,” New York Times, July 2, 2025, https://www.nytimes.com/2025/07/02/us/politics/trump-russia-sanctions.html.
70    The election result was subsequently annulled by Romania’s constitutional court. Tim Ross and Andrei Popoviciu, “How Putin Won the Romanian Election,” Politico, December 23, 2024, https://www.politico.eu/article/how-vladimir-putin-win-romania-election-calin-georgescu/.
71    Matthew Karnitschnig, “How Austria Became Putin’s Alpine Fortress,” Politico, June 5, 2023, https://www.politico.eu/article/austria-russia-vladimir-putin-alpine-fortress-ukraine.
72    Lily Hay Newman and Tess Owen, “Russia Is Going All Out on Election Day Interference,” Wired, November 5, 2024, https://www.wired.com/story/russia-election-disinformation-2024-election-day/.
73    Minna Ålander and Patrik Oksanen, eds., “Tracking the Russian Hybrid Warfare,” Stockholm Free World Forum, last visited November 3, 2025, https://frivarld.se/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Hybrid-Tracker-SFWF.pdf.
74    Seth G. Jones, “Russia’s Shadow War against the West,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, March 18, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/russias-shadow-war-against-west; Charlie Edwards and Nate Seidenstein, “The Scale of Russian Sabotage Operations against Europe’s Critical Infrastructure,” International Institute for Strategic Studies, August 19, 2025, https://www.iiss.org/research-paper/2025/08/the-scale-of-russian–sabotage-operations–against-europes-critical–infrastructure/.
75    Benjamin L. Schmitt, Michal Kurtyka, and Alan Riley, “Underwater Mayhem: Countering Threats to Energy and Critical Infrastructure Across the NATO Alliance and Beyond,” University of Pennsylvania, May 2025, https://upenn.app.box.com/s/wvrobfk9j1h34agng36chj73ibtkcx0h.
76    Tom Balmforth, “Ukraine Says Russia Drone Incursion Part of Pressure Plan against West,” Reuters, September 26, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/ukraine-says-russia-drone-incursion-part-pressure-plan-against-west-2025-09-26/; Fintan Hogan, “How ‘State-Sponsored’ Drone Activity Is Pushing NATO to Brink,” Times, October 16, 2025, https://archive.is/2025.10.16-111444/https:/www.thetimes.com/world/europe/article/nato-russia-drone-attacks-europe-hfcqnksrb.
77    Jones, “Russia’s Shadow War against the West.” As one example, Russia recently “neutralized” the GPS signal to Ursula von der Leyen’s airplane as it was attempting to land in Bulgaria, forcing its pilots to utilize paper maps in order to set down safely. Maia Davies and Will Vernon, “EU Chief von der Leyen’s Plane Hit by Suspected Russian GPS Jamming,” BBC, September 1, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c9d07z1439zo.
78    In this scenario, the conflict subsides into an uneasy stasis along the current line of contact, although fighting can still occur. John Lough, “Four Scenarios for the End of the War in Ukraine,” Chatham House, October 16, 2024, https://www.chathamhouse.org/2024/10/four-scenarios-end-war-ukraine.
79    Fiona Hill and Angela Stent, “The World Putin Wants,” Foreign Affairs, August 25, 2022, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/russian-federation/world-putin-wants-fiona-hill-angela-stent.
80    Anne Kauranen and Johan Ahlander, “A Brief History of Finland’s and Sweden’s Strained Ties with Russia,” Reuters, May 11, 2022, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/brief-history-finlands-swedens-strained-ties-with-russia-2022-05-12/
81    Vladimir Soldatkin, “Putin Derides ‘Russophobia’ in Europe at World War Two Memorial,” Reuters, January 27, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/russias-putin-derides-russophobia-europe-world-war-two-memorial-2024-01-27/.
82    Daria Dmytriieva, “Putin Is Ready for Small Military Operation against NATO—Polish Counterintelligence,” RBC-Ukraine, May 7, 2024, https://newsukraine.rbc.ua/news/putin-is-ready-for-small-military-operation-1715084131.html.
83    “Russia Is Preparing for War with the West—Head of German Intelligence,” Baltic Times, November 28, 2024, https://www.baltictimes.com/russia_is_preparing_for_war_with_the_west_-_head_of_german_intelligence/.
84    Paul Taylor, “The Threat from Russia Is Not Going Away. Europe Has to Get Serious about Its Own Defence,” Guardian, July 10, 2023, https://www.theguardian.com/world/commentisfree/2023/jul/10/russia-threat-europe-defence-military.
85    Souad Mekhennet, et al., “Russia Recruits Sympathizers Online for Sabotage in Europe, Officials Say,” Washington Post, July 10, 2024, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/2024/07/10/russia-sabotage-europe-ukraine/.
86    “Russia wants to expand its military and political opportunities and considers a direct clash with the West highly likely, if not unavoidable, in the near future.” See: Luzin, “Russia Reorganizes Military Districts.”
87    Ivo H. Daalder, “NATO Without America: How Europe Can Run an Alliance Designed for U.S. Control,” Foreign Affairs, March 28, 2025, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/united-states/nato-without-america.
88    Connor Stringer, “Trump Considers Pulling Troops oOut of Germany,” Telegraph, March 7, 2025, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/us/politics/2025/03/07/donald-trump-considers-pulling-troops-out-of-germany/; Ellen Mitchell, “Lawmakers Worry US Will Give Up Military Command of NATO,” Hill, March 20, 2025, https://thehill.com/newsletters/defense-national-security/5206676-lawmakers-worry-us-will-give-up-military-command-of-nato/.
89    Interview with former US Ambassador to NATO Doug Lute, July 10, 2025.
90    Sabine Siebold, “‘50% Battle-Ready’: Germany Misses Military Targets Despite Scholz’s Overhaul,” Reuters, February 13, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/50-battle-ready-germany-misses-military-targets-despite-scholzs-overhaul-2025-02-13/. The German government report cited critical deficiencies in virtually all major combat systems. “While the US President’s remarks may have caused some confusion with regard to his commitment to the Atlantic Alliance, the interest of an EU strategic autonomy has appeared much more clearly than before to many of our European partners. We have always been convinced of it; others are much more so today than they were yesterday.” European Affairs Minister Nathalie Loiseau, French Ministry of European and Foreign Affairs, cited in Hajnalke Vincze, “Beyond Macron’s Subversive NATO Comments: France’s Growing Unease with the Alliance,” Foreign Policy Research Institute, November 26, 2019, https://www.fpri.org/article/2019/11/beyond-macrons-subversive-nato-comments-frances-growing-unease-with-the-alliance/.
91    “Likely Next German Chancellor Merz Questions NATO’s Future in ‘Current Form,’” Reuters, February 24, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/germanys-merz-questions-longevity-natos-current-form-2025-02-23/; John Deni, “Europeans Are Concerned that the US Will Withdraw Support from NATO. They Are Right to Worry—Americans Should, Too,” Conversation, May 27, 2025, https://theconversation.com/europeans-are-concerned-that-the-us-will-withdraw-support-from-nato-they-are-right-to-worry-americans-should-too-253907.
92    Thomas Escritt, “Russia Could Send ‘Little Green Men’ to Test NATO’s Resolve, German Intelligence Chief Warns,” Reuters, June 9, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/russia-has-plans-test-natos-resolve-german-intelligence-chief-warns-2025-06-09/.
93    R. D. Hooker, Jr. and Max Molot, “Building a Stronger Europe: A Companion to the Belfer Center Task Force Report on a New Transatlantic Bargain,” Havard Kennedy School Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, February 2025, 21–22, https://www.belfercenter.org/sites/default/files/2025-02/Belfer_Building%20a%20Stronger%20Europe_Companion%20Report_1.2.pdf.
94    Minna Ålander, “NATO’s New Northern Flank—Don’t Ruin It,” Center for European Policy Analysis, July 20, 2023, https://cepa.org/article/natos-new-northern-flank-dont-ruin-it/.
95    Karsten Friis, “Reviving Nordic Security and Defense Cooperation,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, October 2, 2024, https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2024/10/nordic-baltic-defense-cooperation-nato?lang=en.
96    Germany, France, and the UK cannot field so much as a single division in the Baltic or Black Sea region in less than 90–120 days. See: R. D. Hooker, Jr., “Major Theatre War: Russia Attacks the Baltic States,” RUSI Journal, March 25, 2021, https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/rusi-journal/major-theatre-war-russia-attacks-baltic-states.
97    “Introduction: How Ready?” International Institute for Strategic Studies, November 8, 2024, https://www.iiss.org/publications/strategic-dossiers/introduction-how-ready.
98    Curtis M. Scaparrotti and Colleen B. Bell, “Moving Out: A Comprehensive Assessment of European Military Mobility,” Atlantic Council, April 22, 2020, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/moving-out-a-comprehensive-assessment-of-european-military-mobility/.
99    Offensive cyber is so highly classified that accurate capability assessments from open sources are lacking. US Cyber Command, the UK’s National Cyber Force, and France’s Directorate General for External Security exercise responsibility for offensive cyber operations, subject to national direction. Other NATO allies might have more limited capabilities.
100    Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, and Turkey currently host tactical nuclear weapons and possess aircraft and crews able to deliver them. Opposition parties regularly attack these arrangements. See: Constanze Stelzenmuller, “Nuclear Weapons Debate in Germany Touches Raw NATO Nerve,” Brookings, November 19, 2021, https://www.brookings.edu/articles/nuclear-weapons-debate-in-germany-touches-a-raw-nato-nerve/.
101    Spatafora, “The Trump Card.”
102    For the EU’s assessment on “the way forward for European defense,” see: “Joint White Paper for European Defence Readiness 2030,” European Commission, March 19, 2025, https://defence-industry-space.ec.europa.eu/document/download/30b50d2c-49aa-4250-9ca6-27a0347cf009_en?filename=White%20Paper.pdf.
103    Andrea Kendall-Taylor, et al., “Understanding Russia’s Calculus on Opportunistic Aggression in Europe,” Center for a New American Security, September 4, 2025, https://www.cnas.org/publications/reports/understanding-russias-calculus-on-opportunistic-aggression-in-europe.
104    “The Kremlin seems to view the [Svalbard] archipelago as a place to test new ways of asserting itself and undermining the West.” See: Elisabeth Braw, “We Need to Pay Closer Attention to Svalbard,” Politico, March 26, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/we-need-to-pay-closer-attention-to-svalbard/.
105    Thomas Nilsen, “Norway Prolongs Coal Mining at Svalbard until 2025,” Barents Observer, September 2, 2022, https://www.thebarentsobserver.com/arctic-mining/norway-prolongs-coal-mining-at-svalbard-until-2025/103395.
106    Heiner Kubny, “Russia to Slash Barentsburg Coal Mining by Two Thirds,” Polar Journal, May 17, 2023, https://polarjournal.ch/en/2023/05/17/russia-to-slash-barentsburg-coal-mining-by-two-thirds.
107    [1] Andreas Østhagen, “The Myths of Svalbard Geopolitics: An Arctic Case Study,” Marine Policy 167 (2024), https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0308597X24001817.
108    [1] “The Norwegian Defence Pledge,” Norwegian Ministry of Defence, April 5, 2024, https://www.regjeringen.no/en/documents/the-norwegian-defence-pledge/id3032809/; “New Norwegian Long Term Plan on Defence: ‘A Historic Plan,’” Office of the Prime Minister of Norway, press release, April 5, 2024, https://www.regjeringen.no/en/whats-new/new-norwegian-long-term-plan-on-defence-a-historic-plan/id3032878/; “National Security Strategy,” Office of the Prime Minister of Norway, May 2025, 20, https://www.regjeringen.no/en/documents/national-security-strategy/id3099304/?ch=1.
109    Andreas Østhagen, Otto Svendsen, and Max Bregmann, “Arctic Geopolitics: The Svalbard Archipelago,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 14, 2023, https://www.csis.org/analysis/arctic-geopolitics-svalbard-archipelago.
110    Captain Christopher Bott, “Responding to Russia’s Northern Fleet,” US Naval Institute Proceedings 147, 3 (2021), https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/2021/march/responding-russias-northern-fleet.
111    Eugene Rumer, Richard Sokolsky, and Paul Stronski, “Russia in the Arctic—A Critical Examination,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, March 29, 2021, https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2021/03/russia-in-the-arctica-critical-examination?lang=en.
112    Schmitt, et al., “Underwater Mayhem,” 36.
113    Sara Matea Sundquist, “High Noon for the High North? Norway, Russia, and the Svalbard Stronghold,” International Centre for Defence and Security, November 2024, https://icds.ee/wp-content/uploads/dlm_uploads/2024/11/ICDS_Analysis_High_Noon_for_the_High_North_Sara_Sundquist_November_2024.pdf.
114    “Russia Calls Out Norway for ‘Militarizing Svalbard,’ Setting the Stage for War—How Strong Is NATO’s Northern Flank?,Defense Express, March 22, 2025, https://en.defence-ua.com/analysis/russia_calls_out_norway_for_militarizing_svalbard_setting_the_stage_for_war_how_strong_is_natos_northern_flank-13928.html.
115    The 61st Guards Naval Infantry Brigade includes two naval infantry battalions (one trained in air assault operations), a tank battalion, a reconnaissance battalion, two artillery battalions and an air defense battalion. Ropucha and Ivan Gren-class landing ships assigned to the Northern Fleet provide organic transport by sea. Russian airborne brigades are similarly organized with three maneuver battalions, supporting artillery and air defense, and other enablers.
116    The Russian Northern Fleet includes thirty-four attack and cruise missile submarines, three cruisers, nine frigates and destroyers, and eight corvettes with anti-ship missiles as well as six amphibious assault vessels for transporting naval infantry. See: “Russian Navy 2025: List of Active Russian Navy Ships and Submarines,” RussianShips.info, last visited November 3, 2025, https://russianships.info/eng/today/. Four fighter regiments, including two equipped with anti-ship missiles, are based in Murmansk along with one regiment of TU-22M3 Backfire bombers. See: Thomas Withington, “Arctic Medians,” Armada International, April 2, 2025, https://www.armadainternational.com/2025/04/arctic-meridians-electronic-warfare/.
117    James K Wither, “Svalbard: NATO’s Arctic ‘Achilles’ Heel,’” RUSI Journal, December 6, 2018, 18, https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/rusi-journal/svalbard-natos-arctic-achilles-heel.
118    “Treaty between Norway, the United States of America, Denmark, France, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, Great Britain and Ireland and the British Overseas Dominions and Sweden Concerning Spitsbergen Signed in Paris 9th February 1920,” Arctic Poral Library, last visited November 3, 2025, https://library.arcticportal.org/1909/1/The_Svalbard_Treaty_9ssFy.pdf.
119    Øystein Jensen, “The Svalbard Treaty and Norwegian Sovereignty,” Arctic Review on Law and Politics 11 (2020), https://arcticreview.no/index.php/arctic/article/download/2348/4673?inline=1.
120    Norway has some eighteen C130-series aircraft that could be used in this scenario, each capable of transporting sixty-four troops or 45,000 pounds of cargo. This translates into the ability to lift one battalion with vehicles and supplies in a single lift.
121    The CB90 can carry up to eighteen troops. Norway has no units comparable to Russian VDV brigades capable of long-distance parachute or helicopter assaults.
122    Oscar Rosengren, “Forsvarets Spesialkommando: Norway’s Army SOF,” Grey Dynamics, January 23, 2025, https://greydynamics.com/forsvarets-spesialkommando-norways-army-sof/; “New Arctic Operations Base for UK Commandos,” Royal Navy, March 8, 2023, https://www.royalnavy.mod.uk/news/2023/march/08/230308-campvikingnorway; Master Sgt. Scott Schmidt, “Norwegian Military, U.S. Marines, NATO Allies Prepare for Major Winter Warfare Exercise in Norway,” US Marines, January 15, 2025, https://www.marines.mil/News/News-Display/Article/4029972/norwegian-military-us-marines-nato-allies-prepare-for-major-winter-warfare-exer/#:~:text=The%20United%20States%20Marine%20Corps,interoperability%20and%20joint%20operational%20capabilities.
123    The UK 16 Air Assault Brigade includes three parachute battalions. One battalion of the Dutch 11th Airmobile Brigade is parachutetrained, as is the 3rd Paratroopers battalion of the Belgian Special Operations Regiment. Other NATO SOF might also participate. All are trained and equipped to operate in cold-weather scenarios.
124    These exercises should replicate actual operations but should not be sited on or near the archipelago.
125    Ralph Tuchtenhagen, “Between Russia, Sweden, and Finland: The Åland Question Since 1809,” Studia Europejskie 26, 4 (2022), https://journalse.com/pliki/pw/4-2022-Tuchtenhagen.pdf.
126    Chas Newkey-Burden, “The Peaceful Archipelago that May Take Up Arms,” Week, August 14, 2024, https://theweek.com/defence/Aland-Islands-the-peaceful-archipelago-that-may-take-up-arms.
127    SwedenFinlandGermanyUnited KingdomFranceItalyDenmarkPolandEstonia, and Latvia—all NATO members—are signatories. See: Hasan Akintua, “The Legal Basis of Åland’s Demilitarization and Neutralization,” Nordics.info, Arhaus University, November 1, 2023, https://nordics.info/show/artikel/the-legal-basis-of-aalands-demilitarization-and-neutralization.
128    Ibid.
129    Tom Fort, “A Region on Alert: Åland and the Prospect of Remilitarisation,” St Andrews Economist, September 1, 2024, https://standrewseconomist.com/2024/09/01/a-region-on-alert-aland-and-the-prospect-of-remilitarisation/.
130    David Brennan, “NATO Faces Dilemma over Baltic Sea Islands Eyed by Russia,” Newsweek, May 24, 2024, https://www.newsweek.com/nato-dilemma-baltic-sea-islands-eyed-russia-gotland-aland-1904436.
131    Ibid.
132    Up to 60 percent of Russia’s trade traverses the Baltic Sea. See: Lee Willett, “The Baltic: A ‘Strategic Sea,’” European Security and Defence, February 17, 2025, https://euro-sd.com/2025/02/articles/42619/the-baltic-a-strategic-sea/.
133    Paul Goble, “Moscow Focusing on Åland Islands as Target in Event of War with NATO,” Jamestown Foundation, September 24, 2024, https://jamestown.org/program/moscow-focusing-on-aland-islands-as-target-in-event-of-war-with-nato/.
134    Probably the 2d Guards Spetsnaz Brigade based in Pskov.
135    The 76th Guards Air Assault Division consists of three air assault regiments, a tank battalion, and supporting artillery, engineer, signal, reconnaissance, electronic warfare, and other support units. Each air assault regiment has two air assault battalions and one parachute battalion. The Russian Air Force has enough IL-76 strategic transports to deliver one VDV regiments in a single lift. See: Michael Kofman, “Rethinking the Structure and Role of Russia’s Airborne Forces,” Russia Military Analysis (blog), January 30, 2019, https://russianmilitaryanalysis.wordpress.com/2019/01/30/rethinking-the-structure-and-role-of-russias-airborne-forces/.
136    These include one Kilo-class attack submarine, one destroyer, three frigates, fourteen guided-missile corvettes and four amphibious assault ships for transporting naval infantry. See: “Russian Navy 2025.”
137    “Finnish Military Leaders Want to Remilitarize the Åland Islands,” Nordic Times, April 19, 2023, https://nordictimes.com/the-nordics/finland/finnish-military-leaders-want-to-re-militarize-the-aland-islands/.
138    The Nyland Brigade consists of two battalions armed with mortars and light weapons but no artillery or air defense.
139    The Swedish 1st Marine Regiment, based near Stockholm, is a battalion battlegroup-sized formation equipped with CB-90 fast assault craft as well as standard small arms, anti-tank systems, and limited air defense.
140    Archana Upadhyay, “Borderland Geopolitics in Estonia,” World Affairs: The Journal of International Issues 21, 3 (2017), 163, https://www.jstor.org/stable/48531360.
141    Iida-Mai Einmaa, “How Will the Stripping of Voting Rights Affect Integration in Estonia?” ERR News, March 31, 2025, https://news.err.ee/1609649165/how-will-the-stripping-of-voting-rights-affect-integration-in-estonia.
142    “ISS Director: Russian Influence Activities in Estonia Have Become Harsher,” ERR News, April 12, 2024, https://news.err.ee/1609311528/iss-director-russian-influence-activities-in-estonia-have-become-harsher.
143    “Madrid Summit Declaration,” NATO, press release, June 29, 2022, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_196951.htm.
144    Luzin, “Russia Reorganizes Military Districts.”
145    “In the national perception, Narva has acquired the image of the regional ‘other’ inhabited by fifth columnists with pro-Russian sympathies. The city’s ethno-linguistic ‘Russian-ness’ within an ethnic Estonian nationalising state, sharing borders with the neighbouring Russian-kindred state raises concerns about security challenges emanating from this borderland amidst rising geopolitical tensions between Russia and NATO.” Upadhyay, “Borderland Geopolitics in Estonia,” 167.
146    Liliana Oleniak, “Russia May Try to Seize Part of Estonia—Politico,” RBC-Ukraine, December 26, 2024, https://newsukraine.rbc.ua/news/russia-may-try-to-seize-part-of-estonia-politico-1735214959.html.
147    Rany Ballout, “Gotland Island’s Strategic Importance to NATO’s Defense,” Diplomatic Courier, May 16, 2024, https://www.diplomaticourier.com/posts/gotland-islands-strategic-importance-to-natos-defense.
148    “National Security Strategy,” Government Offices of Sweden, Prime Minister’s Office, 2024, 15, https://www.government.se/globalassets/government/national-security-strategy.pdf.
149    Paul Goble, “Moscow Focusing on Gotland and Other Baltic Sea Islands as Potential Targets,” Jamestown Foundation, Eurasia Daily Monitor 21, 89 (2024), https://jamestown.org/program/moscow-focusing-on-gotland-and-other-baltic-sea-islands-as-potential-targets/.
150    Liv Martin, “Putin Has ‘Both Eyes’ on Gotland, Warns Sweden’s Army Chief,” Politico, May 22, 2024, https://www.politico.eu/article/russia-putin-eyes-sweden-gotland-baltic-sea-army-chief.
151    “Sweden’s First Task in NATO: Defend Key Island on Baltic’s Sea Lanes,” Maritime Executive, March 13, 2024, https://maritime-executive.com/article/sweden-s-first-task-in-nato-defend-key-island-on-baltic-s-sea-lanes.
152    Suzanne Freeman, “Are Current Russian Expeditionary Capabilities Capable of a Coup de Main in Sweden?” Center for Strategic and International Studies, September 30, 2021, https://www.csis.org/analysis/are-current-russian-expeditionary-capabilities-capable-coup-de-main-sweden.
153    [1] “Gotland Air Defence Is Reinforced,” Swedish Armed Forces Headquarters, March 17, 2021, https://www.forsvarsmakten.se/en/news/2021/03/gotland-air-defence-is-reinforced; “Sweden Demonstrates Upgraded RBS 70 Air Defense System during Live-Fire Drills on Gotland,” Defense News, November 17, 2024, https://www.thedefensenews.com/news-details/Sweden-Demonstrates-Upgraded-RBS-70-Air-Defense-System-During-Live-Fire-Drills-on-Gotland.
154    Clark and Hird, “Russian Regular Ground Forces Order of Battle,” 16.
155    “Russian Navy 2025.”
156    Hans Kristensen, “Russia Upgrades Nuclear Weapons Storage Site in Kaliningrad,” Federation of American Scientists, June 18, 2018, https://fas.org/publication/kaliningrad/.
157    Scott Savitz and Isabelle Winston, “A Brief Naval Overview of the Baltic Sea Region,” RAND, June 2024, https://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/perspectives/PEA2100/PEA2111-1/RAND_PEA2111-1.pdf.
158    Victor Jack and Gabriel Gavin, “Inside the New Plan to Seize Russia’s Baltic Fleet,” Politico, February 10, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/russia-shadow-fleet-finnish-bay-snow-eagle-s-december-oil-baltic-sea-europe-waves-europe-kremlin/.
159    Freeman, “Are Current Russian Expeditionary Capabilities Capable of a Coup de Main in Sweden?”
160    A 120-man GRU sabotage unit known as the 390th Special Purpose Reconnaissance Point is known to be based at Kaliningrad. See: Anna Gielewska, et al., “Mapping Russia’s War Machine on NATO’s Doorstep,” VSqure, October 30, 2024, https://vsquare.org/russia-military-bases-threat-europe-nato/.
161    Kateryna Serohina, “Baltic NATO Island Goes Dark, Electricity Outage Explained,” RBC-Ukraine, August 24, 2025, https://newsukraine.rbc.ua/news/baltic-nato-island-goes-dark-electricity-1756009570.html.
162    An example would be Exercise SWIFT DEFENDER in May 2025, which involved US Marines, UK Paras, and the HIMARS system.
163    “Archer FH77 BW L52 Self-Propelled Howitzer,” Army Technology, March 11, 2021, https://www.army-technology.com/projects/archerhowitzer.
164    “Saab Mobile Short Range Air Defense System (MSHORAD), Sweden,” Army Technology, January 26, 2024, https://www.army-technology.com/projects/saab-mobile-short-range-air-defence-system-mshorad-sweden/.
166    Milena Andrukaitytė, “Lithuania’s State Defence Council Backs Proposal to Create Army Division,” LRT, May 8, 2023, https://www.lrt.lt/en/news-in-english/19/1983472/lithuania-s-state-defence-council-backs-proposal-to-create-army-division.
167    Lukas Mugele, “Speed Bumps on the Road for German Brigade in Lithuania,” International Centre for Defence and Security, March 18, 2024, https://icds.ee/en/speed-bumps-on-the-road-for-the-german-brigade-in-lithuania/.
168    “Steadfast Commitment: Next Rotation of the U.S. Armed Forces Begin Tour of Duty in Lithuania,” Ministry of Defence, Republic of Lithuania, January 29, 2025, https://kam.lt/en/93452/.
169    Marek Menkiszak, “The Putin Doctrine: The Formation of a Conceptual Framework for Russian Dominance in the Post-Soviet Area,” Centre for Eastern Studies, March 27, 2014, https://www.osw.waw.pl/en/publikacje/osw-commentary/2014-03-27/putin-doctrine-formation-a-conceptual-framework-russian; Nathan Hodge, “Restoration of Empire Is the Endgame for Russia’s Vladimir Putin,” CNN, June 11, 2022, https://www.cnn.com/2022/06/10/europe/russia-putin-empire-restoration-endgame-intl-cmd/index.html.
170    Daniel Fried and Kurt Volker, “The Speech iIn Which Putin Told Us Who He Was,” Politico, February 18, 2022, https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2022/02/18/putin-speech-wake-up-call-post-cold-war-order-liberal-2007-00009918.
171    The bulk of the Kaliningrad garrison (11th Army Corps, consisting of the 18th Motorized Rifle Division, 336th Naval Infantry Brigade and supporting units) was deployed to Ukraine in 2022 and was badly damaged. It is currently reconstituting, with some units still in Ukraine. See: David Axe, “12,000 Russian Troops Were Supposed to Defend Kaliningrad. Then They Went to Ukraine to Die,” Forbes, October 27, 2022, https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidaxe/2022/10/27/12000-russian-troops-once-posed-a-threat-from-inside-nato-then-they-went-to-ukraine-to-die/.
172    Matthew Karnitschnig, “The Most Dangerous Place on Earth,” Politico, June 20, 2022,https://www.politico.eu/article/suwalki-gap-russia-war-nato-lithuania-poland-border.
173    Germany has promised to station an armored brigade in Lithuania by 2027. See: Chris Lunday, “Germany Launches Permanent Troop Deployment to NATO’s Eastern Flank,” Politico, April 1, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/germany-launch-permanent-troop-deployment-lithuania-nato-eastern-flank-russia-ukraine.
174    Phillip A. Petersen. et al., “Baltic Security Net Assessment,” Potomac Foundation, January 2018, 91, https://media.voog.com/0000/0051/2796/files/BalticSecurityNetAssessment2018.pdf.
175    Axe, “12,000 Russian Troops Were Supposed to Defend Kaliningrad.”
176    Russian air defenses in Kaliningrad are dense and include S-300v4, S-400, and TOR-M2 systems. Some are currently in Ukraine. See: Anders Puck Nielsen, “A Look at the Baltic Fleet and the Defense of Kaliningrad,” Romeo Squared (blog),April 6, 2020, https://romeosquared.eu/2020/04/06/a-look-at-the-defense-of-kaliningrad/.
177    Timothy M. Bonds, et al., “What Role Can Land-Based, Multi-Domain Anti-Access/ Area Denial Forces Play in Deterring or Defeating Aggression?” RAND, May 22, 2017, https://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/research_reports/RR1800/RR1820/RAND_RR1820.pdf; Alex Vershinin, “The Challenge of Dis-integrating A2/AD Zone: How Emerging Technologies Are Shifting the Balance Back to the Defense,” Joint Force Quarterly 97 (2020),https://ndupress.ndu.edu/Media/News/News-Article-View/Article/2106488/the-challenge-of-dis-integrating-a2ad-zone-how-emerging-technologies-are-shifti.
178    Steve Willis, “Kaliningrad: Impregnable Fortress or ‘Russian Alamo’?” Center for Naval Analyses, May 15, 2023, https://www.cna.org/our-media/indepth/2023/05/kaliningrad-impregnable-fortress-or-russian-alamo.
179    Here the term “mask” means to conduct military operations to hold the Kaliningrad garrison in place so that it cannot attack Lithuanian or NATO forces in the rear, without attempting to overrun the exclave.
180    The US European Deterrence Initiative includes $2.9 billion for 2025 to “enhance the capability and readiness of U.S. Forces, North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) Allies, and regional partners of the U.S., to enable a faster response to any aggression within the U.S. European Command (USEUCOM) Area of Responsibility.” See: “European Defense Initiative,” US Office of the Under Secretary of Defense (Comptroller), March 2024, https://comptroller.war.gov/Portals/45/Documents/defbudget/FY2025/FY2025_EDI_JBook.pdf.
181    Scott R. Gourley, “Sierra Army Depot (SIAD): The Home Base Providing a Second Life for Army Equipment,” Defense Media Network, January 24, 2011, https://www.defensemedianetwork.com/stories/the-home-base-providing-a-second-life-for-army-equipment/.
182    “Programs,” Defense Security Cooperation Agency, last visited November 3, 2025, https://www.dsca.mil/programs/excess-defense-articles-eda.
183    All three Baltic states have withdrawn from the Ottawa Treaty banning landmines and are fortifying their borders, although completion of the current obstacle plan is projected to take up to a decade. See: Iona Cleave, “The Baltics Are Building a Defensive Line against Russia. Can They Do It Fast Enough?” Telegraph, April 7, 2025, https://archive.ph/2025.04.07-052219/https://www.telegraph.co.uk/world-news/2025/04/07/baltic-secret-defensive-line-keep-russia-out-europe/.
184    “[The] chasm between imagined readiness and actual readiness presents Russia with an excellent opportunity.” See: Jan Kallberg, “Code Red: How Russia Conquers the Baltics,” Center for European Policy Analysis, January 30, 2024, https://cepa.org/article/code-red-how-russia-conquers-the-baltics.
185    “Russia’s Vladimir Putin Will Attack 3 More Nations Soon, Claims NATO Ex-Commander,” Economic Times, March 10, 2025, https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/defence/russias-vladimir-putin-will-attack-3-baltic-nations-soon-claims-nato-ex-commander/articleshow/118848098.cms?from=mdr.
186    Lincoln Mitchell, “Putin’s Orange Obsession: How a Twenty-Year Fixation with Color Revolutions Drove a Disastrous War,” Foreign Affairs, May 6, 2022, https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/russia-fsu/2022-05-06/putins-orange-obsession. A clear Article 5 scenario that does not result in a strong, unanimous NATO reaction could mean the end of the Alliance.
187    “Attack drones are now responsible for 80 per cent of all battlefield casualties in the Ukraine war, Western officials have revealed.” See: “Drones Have Become the Dominant Killers in the Ukraine War,” National Security News, April 9, 2025, https://nationalsecuritynews.com/2025/04/drones-have-become-the-dominant-killers-in-the-ukraine-war/.
188    David Hambling, “New RUSI Report: Drones Now Inflicting Two Thirds of Russian Losses,” Forbes, February 18, 2025,https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidhambling/2025/02/18/new-report-drones-now-destroying-two-thirds-of-russian-targets/.
189    Kateryna Bondar, “Inside Russia’s Plan to Build Autonomous Drone Swarms,” Breaking Defense, January 8, 2025, https://breakingdefense.com/2025/01/inside-russias-plan-to-build-autonomous-drone-swarms.
190    Emma Bates and S. Ryan Quick, “Drones Aren’t Swarming Yet — But They Could,” War on the Rocks, August 4, 2025, https://warontherocks.com/2025/08/drones-arent-swarming-yet-but-they-could/.
191    Franklin D. Kramer and Kristen Taylor, “NATO Needs a ‘Hellscape’ Defense at ‘Replicator’ Speed,” Atlantic Council, November 4, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/nato-needs-a-hellscape-defense-at-replicator-speed.
192    Richard D. Hooker, Jr., “A NATO Rapid Reaction Force,” Atlantic Council, November 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/A-NATO-Rapid-Reaction-Force.pdf.
193    Richard D. Hooker, Jr., “A New NATO Command Structure,” Atlantic Council, May 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/A-New-NATO-Command-Structure.pdf.
194    Hal Brands, “Putin Is Already Escalating His War on the West,” Bloomberg, September 26, 2024, https://www.aei.org/op-eds/putin-is-already-escalating-his-war-on-the-west/; “Reclaiming Empire: How Vladimir Putin Seeks to Build on the Legacy of Ivan the Terrible,” Brewminate, May 13, 2025, https://brewminate.com/reclaiming-empire-how-vladimir-putin-seeks-to-build-on-the-legacy-of-ivan-the-terrible.
195    “Joint Expeditionary Force Activates UK-Led Reaction System to Track Threats to Undersea Infrastructure and Monitor Russian Shadow Fleet,” UK Ministry of Defence, Foreign, Commonwealth, and Development Office, press release, January 6, 2025, https://www.gov.uk/government/news/joint-expeditionary-force-activates-uk-led-reaction-system-to-track-threats-to-undersea-infrastructure-and-monitor-russian-shadow-fleet.

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A year into its post-Assad era, Syria needs a ‘rules-first’ reset https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/a-year-into-its-post-assad-era-syria-needs-a-rules-first-reset/ Thu, 12 Feb 2026 17:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=904518 In Syria, relief coexists with unease about what comes next. How can Ahmed al-Sharaa restore a state devastated by a quarter century of authoritarianism, corruption, and civil war? Building a government and economy that work for all Syrians is the only way forward.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Ahmed al-Sharaa has kept Syria’s postwar state standing for a year—but endurance alone cannot define success.
  • Prosperity will depend as much on legitimacy and rules-based governance as on physical reconstruction.
  • Look to the integrity of local governance, freedom of speech, and open access to information as the measure of whether democracy is taking root in Syria—not national elections.

This is the fifth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

The trajectory of Syria’s freedom over the past quarter century can be understood as a story of three phases: an early period of managed optimism and limited reform that ended in disappointment and repression; a second phase of tightening control and economic capture that eroded confidence even before the 2011 uprising; and a third phase of comprehensive collapse in political, legal, and economic freedoms during the long war that followed. The Freedom Index data traces these transitions clearly: a mild rise in the early 2000s, an economic dip before 2011, and an abrupt institutional implosion thereafter. Yet, behind the data lies a deeper pattern that continues to shape Syria’s current transition—an enduring struggle between the promise of modernization and the persistence of a centralized, personalized, and coercive power.

2000–07: Managed optimism and early contradictions

The first years of Bashar al-Assad’s rule unfolded against nearly four decades of Ba’athist and Assad-led authoritarianism. The Ba’ath Party’s 1963 coup had militarized politics and subordinated civilian institutions to a one-party state; his father Hafez al-Assad’s 1970 intraparty coup then consolidated this system into personalist rule, fusing state, party, and ruler. Within this entrenched structure, the younger Assad’s accession in 2000 generated cautious hope—not because the system had changed, but because many believed a younger leader might soften and modernize it. Some Freedom Index components—particularly economic openness and property-rights protection—showed mild improvement, reflecting initial confidence in the language of reform and the introduction of a “social-market economy.” Yet the momentum soon faltered. By the mid-2000s, Index data already registered dips in investment freedom and property rights, a signal that reform rhetoric was colliding with entrenched patronage.

Economic and legal subindexes were already falling by the mid-2000s, long before the uprising.

Behind those numbers lay an experiment in modernization without inclusion. The regime’s selective liberalization opened markets but not competition. Licensing remained opaque; access depended on political connections; and the same families who had prospered under the command economy swiftly adapted to dominate the market economy. Political openings were equally brief: The Damascus Spring of 2000–01, with its independent salons and petitions, ended in arrests and renewed surveillance. The early 2000s thus offered Syrians a glimpse of change without the institutions to sustain it. The indices captured this ambivalence—a brief uptick followed by regression—mirroring a public mood of anticipation that gave way to mistrust.

2007–11: Capture, control, and the erosion of trust

Investment Law No. 8 of 2007 briefly attracted foreign capital, but regime-adjacent conglomerates and the president’s relatives soon moved to dominate the very sectors opened by the law. In the ensuing years, Syria’s reform narrative hardened into a coerced-partnership economy. Foreign and domestic investors faced pressure to surrender shares to insiders; profitability again depended on proximity to power. The Freedom Index captures this shift: Between 2007 and 2010, the economic subindex declined, led by property rights and investment freedom, while legal subindex and political subindex stagnated.

Simultaneously, new urban-redevelopment laws expanded the state’s authority to rezone and clear “unregulated districts,” or informal settlements. The combination of vague statutes and deep-seated corruption convinced many Syrians that these projects were vehicles for dispossession. Anxiety was especially acute in lower-middle-class informal neighborhoods, where decades of tolerance for these settlements collided with new administrative discretion. Because many of these districts were Sunni-majority, fears of expropriation intersected with a sense of demographic vulnerability. Whether or not demographic engineering was the intended outcome, the very perception that it was exposed sectarian tensions that had been long suppressed but never resolved. 

The growing dominance of Assad’s relatives and a narrow crony elite in business mirrored the earlier capture of the military and security apparatus. When protests began in 2011, early slogans denounced corruption and “the cousins,” in reference to the president’s extended family members and cronies, before calling for Assad’s removal. What appeared in the data as stagnation was experienced socially as exclusion. Even though the Prosperity Index’s inequality component remained flat during these years—a statistical artifact of missing data—the lived reality was one of widening disparities. Liberalization without competition concentrated wealth among insiders, while provincial regions and informal labor markets stagnated. For many Syrians, upward mobility increasingly depended on connections, not effort; corruption shifted from a tolerated survival mechanism to a symptom of structural injustice. Thus, the erosion of trust that would fuel the 2011 uprising was already well underway, even if the dataset does not fully capture it.

2011–present: Collapse and authoritarian adaptation

The 2011 uprising pushed Syria’s long deterioration into a systemic collapse. The regime’s decision to pursue a military solution removed any prospect of negotiated reform, triggering an immediate plunge in civil liberties, political participation, and legislative oversight from what was already a low baseline. As violence escalated, the rule of law quickly fell apart: Judicial independence fully dissolved, bureaucratic discretion replaced predictability, and state institutions morphed into rent-extraction networks. The economic subindex also crumbled as productive capacity disintegrated, trade routes fractured, and the war economy—with its intermediaries controlling checkpoints, fuel distribution, smuggling routes, and later the narcotics trade—became the dominant source of revenue.

Sanctions dating back to 1979, expanded in 2004, and tightened after 2011, culminating in the Caesar Act in 2019, deepened isolation and contributed to sharp declines in trade freedom. The regime’s workarounds—barter arrangements and selective contracting with Russia and Iran—kept some sectors afloat but entrenched discretionary governance rather than promoting reform. By the late 2010s, many political, legal, and economic subindexes had dropped to their statistical floor, offering a deceptive appearance of stability that masked continued decay. For citizens, the state functioned less and less as an arbiter of law and more as a gatekeeper of favors until political repression, institutional breakdown, and economic predation converged into a single authoritarian survival strategy.


Freedom did not collapse because of war; war revealed the cumulative effects of its earlier absence.

An exception appears in women’s economic freedom. Modest improvements in 2010 and 2019 stem from statutory reforms—Labor Law 17 banning gender discrimination and amendments to the Personal Status Law expanding women’s mobility—but these changes coincided with collapsing enforcement. War thrust millions of women into economic roles without legal protection, widening the gap between the law and their lived reality. The indices record formal progress while women, in practice, felt its absence.

Across all three phases since 2000, Syria provides evidence that the erosion of freedom precedes crises. Economic and legal subindexes were already falling by the mid-2000s, long before the uprising. Freedom did not collapse because of war; war revealed the cumulative effects of its earlier absence. The same forces that hollowed freedom—capture, mistrust, and legal decay—also undermined prosperity. Economic contraction, institutional breakdown, and the flight of human capital followed the same trajectory. The next section examines how the collapse of freedom translated into material impoverishment, and why rebuilding prosperity will depend as much on legitimacy and rule-based governance as on physical reconstruction.

Evolution of prosperity

The decline of prosperity in Syria mirrors the earlier erosion of freedom, and it follows the same three-phase rhythm: brief optimism, structural stagnation, and collapse. Prosperity, not only as material welfare but also as the capacity to convert freedom into opportunity, proved as fragile as the institutions meant to sustain it. The data shows that even before 2011, prosperity indicators were already plateauing, with income gains narrowing, education and health progress stalling, and income inequality rising. War then amplified those hidden weaknesses into outright devastation. Syria’s Prosperity Index dropped precipitously after 2011, reflecting the combined effects of conflict, sanctions, displacement, and the collapse of productive capacity. Yet the flattening of many post-2016 indicator time series—driven largely by missing data—should not be mistaken for stability. As with the freedom indicators, the real picture is worse than the charts can show.

Without credible investigations, equal enforcement of law, and inclusive local administration, rebuilding the infrastructure will not mend the social fabric.

The income component indicates a steep fall from 2011 onward, coinciding with the collapse of the Syrian currency, the destruction of infrastructure, and the disintegration of trade routes. The Freedom and Prosperity dataset registers a sharp contraction in real output; still, these numbers likely underestimate the true scale of decline. There is no reliable, published GDP data for Syria after 2010, or when informal economies—smuggling, remittances, and war profiteering—became dominant following the onset of civil war in 2011. What little production continued was concentrated in government-held areas and in a few rent-generating sectors such as fuel procurement and distribution—run by regime-connected intermediaries—and the burgeoning narcotics trade.

Health indicators reveal the same paradox present in the freedom data: an apparent mid-2010s increase that likely reflects statistical noise, not genuine improvement. Hospitals operate at a fraction of pre-war capacity; medicine supply chains remain disrupted by sanctions and infrastructure damage; and millions of Syrians rely on under-qualified private clinics or humanitarian relief. In the northeast, unregulated oil extraction and generator fumes have sharply increased respiratory illness, while fuel shortages elsewhere limit heating and sterilization.

Education was once one of Syria’s equalizers; it is now one of its deepest dividers. The early-2000s reforms that legalized private universities generated modest competition and raised standards from a low baseline—progress that is reflected in an uptick in the Education Index before 2011. The war erased those gains. School bombings, teacher flight, and long-term displacement closed thousands of educational institutions. Entire cohorts of students have missed years of schooling, particularly in the north and east. Literacy and attainment gaps are now intergenerational, with ripple effects on productivity and social mobility.

The Prosperity Index’s “treatment of minorities” component measures equal access to services and opportunities rather than formal rights. Syria’s scores here declined gradually after 2011, reflecting uneven governance across fragmented territories. Before the war, religious minorities were not systematically disadvantaged, while Arab-nationalist policy subjected ethnic Kurds to long-standing discrimination. The conflict changed or inverted many of these hierarchies. In the northeast, Kurdish self-administration improved service access for some communities but created new barriers for Arabs and ethnic minorities in the region; elsewhere, minority enclaves under government protection retained some services while majority-Sunni rural areas collapsed. The result is a map of geographic inequality that cuts across identity lines. The welfare of communities has come to depend less on who they are than where they live and which authority governs them. This fragmentation complicates measurement: The Prosperity Index’s national average flattens differences because it treats Syria as one unit, when in reality it is fractured into multiple zones of control. 

Syria’s challenge is dual: restoring the state’s capacity while reconstructing a shared sense of belonging.

The Prosperity Index’s inequality components remains low and almost flat throughout the series—a statistical artifact of missing data, not evidence of equity. As noted in the Freedom Index section, this calm surface conceals the turbulence below. Before 2011, economic opening without competition had already concentrated wealth among regime insiders. After 2011, the war economy multiplied disparities: Commanders, brokers, and smugglers accumulated fortunes while public-sector wages cratered. Access to basic goods increasingly depended on connections—fuel, medicine, and even humanitarian aid were under the control of loyalty networks.

The path forward

Syria’s next chapter begins under conditions fundamentally different from those that shaped the early 2000s. When Assad assumed power, he inherited an intact authoritarian system and experimented briefly with controlled openings that were soon reversed. Since the regime’s collapse, I have returned to Syria repeatedly, most recently arriving right before the first anniversary of its fall, now commemorated by Syrians as Liberation Day. In streets filled with flags, music, and portraits of the revolution’s martyrs, the relief of emancipation coexists with a quiet unease about what comes next. It is within the tension between celebration and apprehension that the questions in this section take root.



In streets filled with flags, music, and portraits of the revolution’s martyrs, the relief of emancipation coexists with a quiet unease about what comes next.


Today’s transitional moment is not an echo of Assad’s accession: The state has been fractured, society transformed, and the political landscape irreversibly altered. Yet the experience of that earlier period offers a cautionary insight: Periods of optimism can generate movement but also instability and, without institutional safeguards, early progress may falter. The question now is not whether the current transition will replicate past cycles—it will not—but whether it can avoid the structural traps that undermined reform efforts and contributed to systemic collapse. This distinction is essential because Syria’s post-war trajectory will not follow a linear path. Transitions in deeply damaged states rarely do. They move forward unevenly, shift abruptly, and sometimes regress before stabilizing. Early improvements—whether in governance, service delivery, or the investment climate—may be evidence of hope more than durable change, just as setbacks may represent adjustment rather than failure. Assessing Syria’s progress, therefore, requires patience and multidimensional judgment: an approach that interprets fluctuation not as contradiction but as the normal rhythm of transition.

To navigate this complexity, I propose a three-pronged framework: stabilization, economic consolidation, and democratization. These are not sequential steps but overlapping phases of state-building that unfold simultaneously, even if each advances at a different speed. What matters is not only the tempo of reform but its substance: whether rules, institutions, and trust can come to replace coercion, discretion, and fear. The measure of Syria’s transition rests on whether predictability takes hold in administration, whether rights and responsibilities become rule-based, and whether meaningful participation—formal or informal—emerges as a stabilizing force. The remainder of this section examines what such a transition requires, the risks that could derail it, and the practical choices facing the government of Ahmed al-Sharaa as it attempts to move the country from mere survival toward accountable governance and inclusive prosperity.

The al-Sharaa government’s greatest early achievement has been institutional endurance. Ministries reopened, salaries resumed, and central agencies continued to function despite fiscal exhaustion and territorial fragmentation. Partial electricity improvements revived basic services, while the exemption of industrial machinery from customs duties and the reactivation of more than 1,500 factories signaled the first wave of Syria’s industrial recovery. Aleppo and rural Damascus led this rebound, benefiting from eased licensing procedures and the lifting of long-standing state monopolies. Together, these steps stabilized daily life and signaled that the state still existed.

Stability, however, does not constitute transformation. The real challenge is to turn functionality into legitimacy. With roughly half the population displaced and infrastructure drastically degraded, national elections cannot anchor stability. What can anchor stability is a rules-first reset—predictable administration, impartial security provision, and credible remedies for everyday predation. Electricity, water, and education are not merely utilities; they are the daily symbols citizens use to determine if a state has truly returned. When the lights come on predictably, people infer that authority functions. Service delivery reforms—metered electricity, local water management, transparent teacher recruitment—can demonstrate fairness more convincingly than political declarations. Over time, reliability in these domains begins to rebuild the social contract, shifting public perception of the state from coercion to provision.

The al-Sharaa administration has tried to make this link explicit by prioritizing the rehabilitation of power grids and the partial restoration of domestic production in reopened factories. These steps, modest but visible, have reintroduced a sense of continuity in daily life. Yet progress remains uneven, constrained by power shortages, financing gaps, and opaque contracting. Until public trust in hospitals, schools, and oversight mechanisms is restored, Syria’s institutions will remain nominally functional but substantively fragile. Without a minimal legal core—clear rules, enforcement, and functioning courts—investment will not return and social tensions will fester, regardless of political rhetoric. This sequencing aligns with what Syrians themselves emphasize: security, rule of law, and the restoration of basic services. The judiciary, local police, and municipal offices must become predictable entities rather than instruments of discretion. Every contract enforced and every property dispute resolved fairly will do more for legitimacy than a hundred speeches.

The early months of the al-Sharaa government have already revealed how fragile stabilization can be when inclusion and accountability lag behind coercion. In early 2025, violence in the coastal region—primarily targeting Alawites—exposed the inability of new security structures to protect citizens regardless of identity or locale, with investigators documenting murders, abductions, and property destruction in what they described as “widespread and systematic” attacks. In Sweida, clashes between Druze armed groups, Bedouin tribes, and government forces left hundreds dead and tens of thousands displaced. For minorities, these events underscored a central concern: not simply whether services return, but whether the state protects all communities equally and whether security is exercised as reassurance rather than predation.

Without credible investigations, equal enforcement of law, and inclusive local administration, rebuilding the infrastructure will not mend the social fabric. Syria’s challenge, therefore, is dual: restoring the state’s capacity while reconstructing a shared sense of belonging. Hyper-centralization, once justified by security concerns, eroded both legitimacy and responsiveness. Durable recovery requires decentralization within national frameworks—empowering municipalities, strengthening fiscal transparency, and guaranteeing that central oversight is procedural rather than political. In practice, this means allowing local administrative units to manage water, sanitation, and education budgets, while central ministries set national standards. The balance between authority and autonomy will determine whether new institutions can sustain both order and inclusion. The government’s newly created directorates for anti-smuggling and anti-corruption are a direct response to the previous regime’s entrenched culture of corruption. Enforcement has improved in curbing border smuggling but remains uneven in administrative corruption and procurement oversight. Under Assad, corruption evolved from grand theft by elites to everyday extortion within public offices; that legacy persists. Rooting out corrupt practices requires professional administration, digital tracking, and transparent contracting. The more promising path is systemic reform rather than episodic purges.
 
The abuses on the coast and the violence in Sweida illustrate how incomplete control and fragmented authority undermine claims to national coherence. Nowhere is this tension clearer than in the northeast. What began as a negotiation with the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) has become a coercive effort to absorb territory, resources, and fighters into a centralized framework. Recent fighting, the loss of large swathes of SDF-controlled territory, and demands for individual—rather than unit—integration into the national army have transformed the issue from accommodation to consolidation. The outcome will hinge not only on restoring territorial control but also on whether Damascus can convert reunification into legitimacy—addressing fears of exclusion, ensuring equal protection across communities, and defining whether authority is exercised as domination or the foundation of a new social contract.

Stabilization will also falter if the security apparatus remains fragmented. The transformation from militia networks to accountable institutions is central to both freedom and prosperity. Priorities include unified command structures, professional training, and civilian oversight. Integrating vetted former combatants into national forces, while demobilizing others through economic reintegration programs, can reduce predation and restore public trust. Rule-bound policing—applied equally in the capital and on the periphery—will mark the difference between security as repression and security as reassurance.

Rebuilding Syria requires basic statistical capacity—not as a technocratic exercise but as a safeguard against arbitrariness. Reviving the Central Bureau of Statistics and digitizing government records would replace speculation with verifiable information and allow citizens, investors, and local officials to track progress. Reliable data—on prices, services, and reconstruction—will be essential to designing policy and restoring trust. Transparency in numbers, and public access to them, is fundamental to the institutional reconstruction Syria never experienced.

Economic recovery in Syria will depend primarily on credibility. Investors still remember the coerced partnerships, opaque privatization, and arbitrary taxation of the late 2000s. This is why dozens of memorandums of understanding since 2024 have yielded little tangible action. Capital will not return without enforceable property rights, transparent licensing, and reliable adjudication. In Syria, the strongest commitment device is an independent court, not a contract-signing ceremony. The new anti-corruption effort acknowledges how distorted the system had become, but enforcement remains uneven. Property restitution relies on clear rules and independent claims boards; procurement requires public tenders and published outcomes; and credit access must shift from patronage to rule-based lending. Democratizing these economic processes means opening them to professional associations, municipal councils, and public audits so that opportunity depends on rules, not connections.

Regional partners have shifted from aid to investment logic, making policy predictability Syria’s real currency. The 2025 renewable-energy law is a promising step, but implementation is hampered by financing gaps and missing technical standards. Household solar adoption shows ingenuity but also risk—from fires and battery hazards to toxic waste. A credible green transition requires regulation and institutional capacity. Environmental “improvements” in the data often reflect reduced industrial activity, not genuine resilience.

Reentry into regional political and economic frameworks can anchor reform if it is tied to measurable progress in governance and transparency. External partners can help raise the cost of backsliding by linking investment and aid to institutional benchmarks. The Syrian diaspora, meanwhile, represents an immense reservoir of skills and capital. The goal should be reconnection, not mere repatriation. Flexible arrangements such as remote participation, temporary return programs, joint research, and business ventures can channel expertise without overburdening domestic absorption capacity. Educational recovery inside Syria must complement these efforts to prevent a permanent skills divide between returnees and residents. Academic openness will be essential here: Universities must once again become spaces of inquiry, not ideology.

Foreign assistance should build capacity, not substitute for it. Donor programs that channel funds directly into ministries without transparency risk entrenching old habits. Effective aid requires performance benchmarks, local participation, and open reporting. International actors must coordinate to prevent parallel governance structures and align aid flows with national reform sequencing. 
 
With half the Syrian population displaced and institutions fragile, the only viable path toward pluralism is a gradual one. The first tests of democratic involvement will appear not in national elections but in the integrity of local governance, freedom of speech, and the openness of information. In the absence of attainable national elections, freedom of speech is more than a moral principle; it is a practical test of how power is exercised: Dissent must be permitted, reporters must be able to work freely, and academics must be allowed to collaborate without political constraint. These conditions are measurable, captured in the Freedom Index through media independence and civic participation, and they create the necessary environment for accountability to take hold. As power configurations shift, durable stabilization demands visible protections for minorities and sanctions for discriminatory behavior by officials or armed actors. Equality of access—to services, employment, and opportunity—will matter more than symbolic inclusion. Local participation mechanisms below the national-election level can channel grievances constructively while broader political frameworks mature. 


Every contract enforced and every property dispute resolved fairly will do more for legitimacy than a hundred speeches.

Roughly six million Syrian refugees and an equal number of internally displaced persons (IDP) cannot simply “return home.” Rapid, concentrated return to a few livable cities would overwhelm services and risk new unrest. A phased, voluntary, and service-first approach is essential: Prioritize resettlement of internally displaced populations, restore local infrastructure, and guarantee security before large-scale returns. The Syrian government has begun preliminary mapping of viable districts for IDP return, but it lacks the financing and legal clarity for property restitution. International partnerships should condition support on safety, compensation mechanisms, and livelihood readiness to prevent a second displacement wave. Managing this process transparently will also generate data critical to humanitarian planning. Addressing war-era abuses is politically sensitive but indispensable. Pragmatic sequencing begins with documentation and administrative reform, not mass prosecutions. Vetting security personnel, publishing detention records, and clarifying property ownership can signal the emergence of a new legal order. International support should focus on building evidentiary systems and judicial capacity so that accountability mechanisms strengthen rather than destabilize governance. Every credible dataset—on detainees, missing persons, or property claims—will serve both justice and institutional learning.

The al-Sharaa administration has kept the state standing—a significant achievement after years of disintegration—but endurance alone cannot define success. The next test is whether stabilization evolves into accountable governance and inclusive prosperity. Progress will not be linear. Early statistical improvements may reflect optimism more than lasting reform; later regressions may signify adjustment rather than failure. Recognizing this rhythm will be necessary for a realistic assessment. Each credible budget, each open dataset, and each fair court ruling can become a milestone. International observers will watch less for declarations than for data: how many schools reopen, how many licenses are issued transparently, and how many cases are adjudicated without interference.

These numbers—absent for over a decade—will be Syria’s new vocabulary of reform. Freedom and prosperity will advance together only when opportunity is governed by rules rather than favors. The Atlas of Freedom and Prosperity will register this evolution as data returns to the public domain. A functioning state is measurable; a free one is verifiable. In that sense, information is both the mirror and the maker of liberty. The underlying lesson of the past two decades remains constant: Prosperity cannot emerge from arbitrary power. Syria’s new trajectory depends on embedding predictability into law, equality into administration, and restraint into politics. Whether under transitional arrangements or long-term governance, durable freedom will stem less from proclamations than from institutions that work—and that are seen to work.

about the author

Ibrahim Al-Assil is a senior research fellow at Harvard University’s Middle East Initiative at the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, where he serves as project lead of the Syria Transition Lab. He is also a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council. His work examines geopolitics and political transitions in the Middle East.

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2026 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

2025 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists, scholars, and diplomats analyze the state of freedom and prosperity in eighteen countries around the world, looking back not only on a consequential year but across twenty-nine years of data on markets, rights, and the rule of law.

2024 Atlas: Freedom and Prosperity Around the World

Twenty leading economists and government officials from eighteen countries contributed to this comprehensive volume, which serves as a roadmap for navigating the complexities of contemporary governance. 

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The Freedom and Prosperity Center aims to increase the prosperity of the poor and marginalized in developing countries and to explore the nature of the relationship between freedom and prosperity in both developing and developed nations.

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Mining corridors as catalysts: Building on the Lobito model https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/mining-corridors-as-catalysts-building-on-the-lobito-model/ Tue, 10 Feb 2026 12:01:41 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=903149 The financing approach and public-private cooperation used to build the Lobito transportation corridor offers a playbook for the US and African governments and investors as they seek to tap Africa's critical mineral wealth.

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Bottom lines up front

  • In December 2025 the US and the DRC signed a strategic partnership agreement giving the US preferential access to Congolese mineral deposits.
  • The next step should be to build the infrastructure necessary for African nations to derive sustainable wealth from their mineral assets, and for the US to reap the benefits of the strategic partnership agreement.
  • The financing approach and public-private cooperation used to build the Lobito transportation corridor offers a playbook for the US and African governments and investors.

Executive summary

In an era defined by technological advancement and strategic competition, African critical minerals are central to US economic competitiveness and national security. The continent holds approximately 30 percent of the world’s known mineral reserves, including inputs vital to defense systems, energy technologies, and the digital economy. This geological endowment places Africa at the nexus of the global supply chain and energy security.

Current US dependence on adversarial nations—particularly China—for processed critical minerals creates strategic exposure that African partnerships can mitigate. Since launching the Belt and Road Initiative in 2013, Beijing has established significant economic inroads through billions of dollars of investments in transportation, infrastructure, and energy across the continent. The US response must prioritize not only access to raw materials but also the development of processing infrastructure, transparent governance frameworks, and equitable partnerships that deliver mutual prosperity. Logistic corridors and processing hubs are key to this approach.

The successful development of the Lobito Corridor linking Zambia and the DRC to Angola’s port of Lobito over the past three years has demonstrated that collaborative partnerships between the US government and African development finance institutions (DFIs) can deliver transformative infrastructure, unlock mineral wealth, and promote regional integration.

This model can be replicated through four additional mining corridors and hubs. These include the proposed Liberty Corridor connecting Guinea’s iron ore belt to Liberia’s coast; the Northern Corridor linking Kenya’s port of Mombasa to landlocked East African states and eastern DRC via a multimodal network; the Nacala Corridor, which connects northern Mozambique to Malawi and Zambia through rail, road, and the Port of Nacala; and Morocco’s emergence as a near-term mineral processing and manufacturing hub, particularly for battery supply chains. Together, these projects have the potential to deepen US-Africa partnerships, strengthen supply chain resilience, counter Chinese influence, and advance sustainable development.

By applying lessons from the Lobito Corridor and pursuing corridor-based strategies in resource-rich African markets, the United States can position itself as the partner of choice for infrastructure development while securing access to the critical minerals needed for long-term economic competitiveness and national security.

Read the full report

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The Africa Center works to promote dynamic geopolitical partnerships with African states and to redirect US and European policy priorities toward strengthening security and bolstering economic growth and prosperity on the continent.

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Global Foresight 2036 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/atlantic-council-strategy-paper-series/global-foresight-2036/ Tue, 10 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902623 In this year’s Global Foresight edition, our experts share findings from our survey of geostrategists on how human affairs could unfold over the next decade. Our scholars spot “snow leopards” that could have major unexpected impacts over the next decade. And our tech experts put AI’s forecasting ability to the test.

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Global Foresight 2036

The authoritative forecast for the decade ahead

Welcome to the fifth edition of Global Foresight. Produced by the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, home to one of the world’s premier strategic foresight shops, Global Foresight gathers the best thinking about how the coming decade could unfold.

In this year’s installment, a part of the Atlantic Council Strategy Papers series, our experts analyze exclusive new findings from a survey of leading strategists and foresight practitioners around the world on how human affairs could unfold over the coming decade across geopolitics, diplomacy, the global economy, technological disruption, changing Earth systems, and other domains. Our team scans the horizon for hidden or under-the-radar phenomena—which we call “snow leopards”—that could have significant consequences in the future. And the Atlantic Council’s best tech minds take a critical look at how artificial intelligence could reshape not only the future, but our ability to predict it.

Meet your expert guides to the future

Full survey results

Atlantic Council Strategy Paper Series

Feb 10, 2026

The Global Foresight 2036 survey: Full results

In the fall of 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security surveyed the future, asking leading geostrategists and foresight experts around the world to answer our most burning questions about the biggest drivers of change over the next ten years. Here are the full results. 

Africa China

Executive editors

Frederick Kempe
Alexander V. Mirtchev

Editor-in-chief

Matthew Kroenig

Editorial board members

James L. Jones
Odeh Aburdene
Paula Dobriansky
Stephen J. Hadley
Jane Holl Lute
Ginny Mulberger
Stephanie Murphy
Dan Poneman
Arnold Punaro

More from our expert guides

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Welcome to 2036: What the world could look like in ten years, according to nearly 450 experts https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/atlantic-council-strategy-paper-series/welcome-to-2036/ Tue, 10 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902628 We polled geostrategists and foresight practitioners on our most burning questions about the biggest drivers of change over the next decade. Check out their forecasts on everything from the future of NATO to the rise of cryptocurrency.

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Welcome to 2036

What the world could look like in ten years, according to nearly 450 experts

 

By Mary Kate Aylward, Peter Engelke, Uri Friedman, and Paul Kielstra

China eclipses the United States economically. A diminished Russia’s war in Ukraine becomes a frozen one, while conflict over Taiwan turns hot and threatens world war. More countries acquire nuclear weapons. A democratic depression coincides with the decline of today’s multilateral system. Cryptocurrencies challenge the dollar. Artificial intelligence matches or even surpasses human capabilities. NATO endures, but fundamentally changes.

These are just some of the future scenarios that geostrategists and foresight practitioners pointed to when the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security surveyed them in November and December 2025 on how they expect the world to change over the next ten years.

We found respondents generally in a dark mood, with 63 percent expecting the world in 2036 to be worse off than it is now. Just 37 percent think that it will be better off ten years hence—roughly on par with the results of this temperature-check question in the previous year’s survey.

The 447 survey respondents were citizens of 72 countries—the highest number of countries represented in the four years we’ve been conducting our annual Global Foresight survey. Roughly half were citizens of the United States, more than one-fifth were from Europe, and just under a fifth were from countries in the so-called Global South. Respondents skewed male and older (roughly three-quarters were male and a similar proportion were over 50 years of age) and were dispersed across the private sector, nonprofits (think tanks, advocacy groups, non-governmental organizations), government, academic or educational institutions, independent consultancies, and multilateral institutions.

So what kind of world do these forecasters envision in 2036? Below are the survey’s ten biggest findings.

Atlantic Council Strategy Paper Series

Feb 10, 2026

The Global Foresight 2036 survey: Full results

In the fall of 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security surveyed the future, asking leading geostrategists and foresight experts around the world to answer our most burning questions about the biggest drivers of change over the next ten years. Here are the full results. 

Africa China

1. Most respondents think China will surpass the US economically, as concern about a Taiwan conflict rises and 40 percent foresee another world war

Most survey respondents do not believe that the United States will be the world’s dominant power in 2036, with only seven percent saying that it will be. And while an even smaller percentage (four percent) believe that China will be the dominant global power, the great majority of polled experts (around nine in ten) believe that these powers will compete for supremacy either in a bipolar world largely divided into China-aligned and US-aligned blocs or in a multipolar one with multiple centers of power.

The survey results indicate widespread perceptions that China will wield considerable power over the coming decade. While nearly three-quarters of respondents predict that the United States will be the world’s leading military power in 2036, most respondents (58 percent) expect China to be the world’s top economic power within the next decade—with only 33 percent saying the same about the United States. Similarly sized minorities expect either China or the United States to be the leading power in technological innovation (47 percent for the United States, 44 percent for China) and diplomatic influence (38 percent for the United States, 33 percent for China), suggesting they could be peer competitors in these domains. The message respondents appear to be sending is that, by 2036, the “China rising” era will have given way to a “China risen” one, characterized by a significant erosion in relative US power in certain respects and an end to the US-dominated world order. (A deeper dive into the data reveals that Global South respondents rate China’s future power higher than respondents from other regions do; see finding 10 below.) 

More than two-thirds of respondents (70 percent) believe that China will try to forcibly take Taiwan in the next decade—up from 65 percent in our previous year’s survey and 50 percent two years ago, signaling an increasing likelihood of this scenario materializing. The intensity of this concern seems to be growing as well: Twenty-one percent of respondents “strongly agree” that China will attempt to forcibly retake Taiwan over the next decade, up from 15 percent who felt this way in our previous two surveys.

And what starts in Taiwan wouldn’t necessarily end in Taiwan. In keeping with the top finding from our previous year’s survey, more than 40 percent of respondents envision another world war, involving a multifront conflict among great powers, erupting over the next decade. And within that group, 43 percent think the likely trigger will be in Taiwan or the East/South China Seas—the most-cited origin point for such a conflict, with Eastern Europe (25 percent) and the Middle East (13 percent) in second and third place. This result suggests that growing competition between China and the United States, if improperly managed, will become a global powder keg. 

It’s clear that most respondents believe that China is poised to unseat the United States as the global economic superpower over the next ten years, challenging the United States on multiple fronts from currency to international institutions to political stability.

 It’s also obvious that Beijing is feeling a newfound confidence as it leverages the international trade chaos wrought by President Donald Trump’s tariffs to position itself as a global leader advocating for a more open international trading system. Of course, Beijing continues to use a host of protectionist measures—from industrial subsidies to non-tariff barriers favoring domestic companies—to tilt the field in its favor.

 But China’s ascent to economic supremacy could easily be derailed by its limited progress in shifting from export-driven growth to a more sustainable, consumption-driven economy. China’s present model is facing ever larger challenges as countries push back against a flood of Chinese electric vehicles, solar panels, and electronics.

Dexter Tiff Roberts, founder and publisher of the newsletter Trade War on Chinese economics and politics, former China bureau chief and Asia News Editor at Bloomberg Businessweek, and nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Global China Hub

The clear majority of respondents who assessed that China will attempt to take Taiwan by force in the next decade included those respondents who also assessed that the United States would be the strongest military power at the time—suggesting many respondents believe overall military power alone is insufficient to deter Beijing.

 Given that Beijing has ramped up its aggressive rhetoric and military exercises against Taiwan, which are starting to look like dress rehearsals for an attack, now is the time for action. To strengthen deterrence, the United States and its allies should improve intelligence to provide timely attack warning, posture forces to decisively win a first battle against China, and establish a victory plan to prepare for a long war. Meanwhile, the United States should encourage Taiwan to further strengthen its defenses and mobilize the whole of its society to deter China.

 While Taiwan was most commonly cited as the flashpoint for a potential global multifront war in the coming decade, only one respondent cited the Korean peninsula, which suggests respondents are underestimating the potential for a larger war to start with North Korean aggression there. As we explored in a report based on a tabletop exercise, either a conflict in the Taiwan Strait or on the Korean Peninsula could escalate into a broader war, including nuclear escalation.

 Markus Garlauskas, former National Intelligence Officer for North Korea on the US National Intelligence Council and director of the Indo-Pacific Security Initiative of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

The experts are very likely wrong on this one—or at least, they’re missing crucial context.

This idea that China was on track to take over the United States as the world’s largest economy was conventional wisdom in Washington (and New York) before the COVID-19 pandemic. Before 2020, Bloomberg Economics expected China to surpass US nominal GDP by the early 2030s. Even during the pandemic, many were impressed by the resilience of China’s economic growth when other major economies faltered. As late as 2022, Goldman Sachs predicted that China would overtake the US economy around 2035. But economists have been re-adjusting their predictions across the board. In 2023, Bloomberg Economics changed its forecast and projected that it would take until the mid-2040s for China’s economy to catch up to that of the United States. Simply put, Beijing’s economy in 2026 isn’t what it was in 2020.

While China’s growth has slowed down from pre-pandemic expectations, the United States has actually outperformed previous growth projections. In 2019, the International Monetary Fund projected that China’s GDP growth would hit 5.5 percent in 2024, while the United States would only grow by 1.6 percent. In 2024, however, the United States grew by 2.8 percent, while China grew by 5 percent. It’s definitely strong growth coming out of Beijing, but the United States’ nominal GDP was $10 trillion more than China’s in 2024. This makes it less likely, as China’s growth slows, that it will surpass the United States in 10 years. Assuming that 2025 growth rates continue, China would surpass the United States in nominal GDP in 2041. And some experts question the veracity of the growth numbers China releases, with some suggesting a 2025 growth rate as low as 2.5 percent.

Economic forecasting is not a precise science, but there are a few factors to look at when it comes to forecasting China’s economic growth vis-a-vis the United States. Let’s break down some of these factors behind China’s economic slowdown. Beijing is dealing with the sticky negative effects of its prolonged real estate slump—a sector which used to be a major driver of economic growth and investment. As the housing market struggles, consumer confidence remains low, and local governments are bogged down by debt. The country also has a population crisis on the horizon. By 2060, it’s projected that there will be around 70 elderly dependents for every 100 working-age people. China remains a strong export-driven economy with a high-tech sector that is continuing to innovate, but Chinese high-tech firms are only one sliver of its overall economy, and we’re still seeing the vast majority of AI investments worldwide being directed towards the United States. Indeed, it’s the United States that is leading the development of the most important technology of the twenty-first century.

None of this is to downplay the strengths of China’s economy or to neglect the headwinds that are facing the United States, but so far, the data doesn’t suggest that China will overtake the United States as the world’s largest economy by 2036.

— Josh Lipsky is chair, international economics at the Atlantic Council and the senior director of the Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center. 

— Jessie Yin is an assistant director with the Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center. 

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2. Expect NATO to endure but undergo fundamental changes

Amid major ups and downs for NATO in the first year of the second Trump administration—from commitments to ramp up defense spending at The Hague summit in 2025 to the standoff between Denmark and the United States over the status of Greenland—survey respondents are split evenly on whether the Alliance will grow more influential (35 percent) or less (35 percent) in ten years’ time. Behind these equivocal answers about NATO’s future power, however, is a clear and substantial measure of doubt regarding the future of the Alliance itself: Nearly half of respondents (44 percent) believe that NATO will no longer exist in its current form in 2036. Among this group expecting fundamental change, half (51 percent) anticipate that a reconfigured NATO will be less influential than the current alliance.

This finding likely relates to the part that the United States is expected to play in the Alliance going forward. A significant minority of respondents—39 percent—don’t envision the United States, by the year 2036, still having the central, commanding role in NATO that it has had since the Alliance’s founding, though the majority (61 percent) believe the United States will remain in this position. Among the group that envisions the United States no longer retaining its dominant role in the Alliance, 65 percent expect a coalition of states to take a leading role in NATO if Washington steps back, with smaller but still significant percentages citing Germany (33 percent), Poland (20 percent), France (19 percent), and the United Kingdom (18 percent) as potential Alliance leaders. (Respondents could choose more than one answer.)

Respondents also indicated that several NATO member states without nuclear weapons might acquire them by 2036. Among the 85 percent of survey respondents who think that at least one new country or territory will obtain nuclear weapons within the next decade, about 30 percent expect Turkey to acquire these weapons, 24 percent believe Germany will do so, and 15 percent anticipate Poland doing the same. This may reflect an assessment that a possible US withdrawal of its nuclear umbrella from Europe or from its leading role in the Alliance could prompt these NATO member states to go nuclear.

Notably, of the respondents who believe that the United States will be the world’s leading military power a decade from now, 70 percent think that the United States will retain its security alliances and partnerships in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East; among those who think another power will lead in the military field , that figure drops to 49 percent. Similarly, among those in the camp of the United States as the leading military power in 2036, 67 percent expect Washington to maintain a central role in NATO relative to just 39 percent who see another country or bloc leading militarily. These findings indicate a link between US military leadership and the maintenance of the country’s alliances and partnerships around the world.

The polling serves as a troubling warning sign. It reflects frustration with the long-term failure of European allies to fulfill their defense obligations and the Alliance’s failure to leverage its massive overmatch in power over Russia to end Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine on just and enduring terms. Another factor is surely the Trump administration’s determination to dilute US military commitment to and leadership in NATO. The Alliance simply will not function in the absence of robust leadership from Washington and a demonstrable commitment of force that inspires confidence in US allies and fear in US adversaries.  

The good news for NATO is that the Europeans are now finally increasing their defense spending with haste, the United States continues to have vital interests in Europe that justify the aforementioned leadership and commitment, and the American public expect that of their government. Polls consistently show that some 65 to 75 percent of the American public believe that the United States should sustain or increase its commitment to NATO. That is what gives me an optimistic outlook about NATO’s future.

Ian Brzezinski, former US deputy assistant secretary of defense for Europe and NATO policy and resident senior fellow with the Transatlantic Security Initiative in the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

Trackers and Data Visualizations

Jun 20, 2025

NATO Defense Spending Tracker

By Kristen Taylor, Julia Salabert

The Transatlantic Security Initiative’s NATO defense spending tracker delves into data and figures to analyze current defense spending trends.

Europe & Eurasia NATO

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3. Many respondents envision a diminished Russia heading toward a frozen conflict in Ukraine

A high-profile, US-led push for a final negotiated settlement to the war in Ukraine dominated headlines while this year’s survey was in the field. Despite that, respondents shifted in the direction of anticipating a frozen conflict. Just 34 percent of respondents think that the war will end on terms largely favorable to Russia, down substantially from the nearly half of respondents (47 percent) who answered that way in our previous year’s survey. Conversely, slightly more than half of respondents (52 percent) now think the war ultimately will turn into a frozen conflict, up from 43 percent a year ago. 

Meanwhile, respondents believe that Russia is destined to be a lesser power. By 2036, respondents expect minimal Russian clout across all five metrics of power tested in the survey. Just 2 percent of those surveyed believe that Russia will be the world’s leading country in cultural or soft power by 2036 and 1 percent say the same regarding military power. In all other areas, the figure rounds down to 0 percent. Respondents also cited Russia more than any other world power as a candidate to break up internally as a result of developments such as revolution, civil war, or political disintegration, with 36 percent expecting such an outcome relative to 30 percent in the previous year’s survey. (The latest figure is only slightly below this question’s high of 40 percent of respondents forecasting Russia’s breakup a few years ago, shortly before Yevgeny Prigozhin staged a rebellion against the Kremlin.)

Russian weakness, however, doesn’t necessarily reduce the danger it poses in Ukraine and beyond; in fact, it could increase the threat. Among the minority of respondents (22 percent) who expect a state or terrorist group to use nuclear weapons in the coming decade, 60 percent believe that Russia will do so, making it the most-cited actor.

Contrary to pundit chatter, in 2025 US policy largely did not veer in Putin’s direction. It has jumped back and forth between criticizing and placing pressure on Ukraine and Russia. It is fair to say that the US president seems reluctant to hammer Putin for his clear rejection of numerous American ceasefire and peace proposals, and rarely criticizes Putin without also hitting Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Yet Trump still has sanctioned Rosneft and Lukoil, Russia’s two largest oil firms. And he continues to provide essential military intelligence to Ukraine that has enhanced the effectiveness of Ukraine’s very successful attacks on Russia’s hydrocarbon production, with serious impact on Russia’s revenue and its staggering economy.

 If the White House policy continues, it is safe to expect another year like 2025—at most minor gains for Putin on the battlefield, at a terrible cost in casualties, and with no strategic success and more strain on the Russian economy. The Ukrainians will muddle through because Western support will be at least adequate, and because they have no other choice if they want to live freely as Ukrainians.

 If Team Trump is able to digest the lessons of the past year, the United States will provide more support for Ukraine—with the sale of more advanced weapons, including Tomahawks—and put more pressure on the Kremlin in the form of sanctions. The administration would also embrace the position some of its members spoke about publicly a year ago and use its influence to persuade Belgium and other influential players to provide remaining frozen Russian state assets to Ukraine. This combination of measures, if pursued consistently for many months, would 1) weaken Moscow’s position on the battlefield and 2) increase the odds of Putin accepting terms to establish a durable peace, which is Trump’s stated aim and something Putin would only agree to under duress.

 John Herbst, former US ambassador to Ukraine and senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Eurasia Center

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4. AI could match human capabilities within a decade, as concerns about the technology’s impact mount

Survey respondents expect artificial intelligence (AI) to progress rapidly over the coming decade. A clear majority (58 percent) believe that, by 2036, the world will have gone beyond today’s predictive and generative AI systems to achieve artificial general intelligence (AGI), which is defined in the survey as “an artificial intelligence system matching or exceeding the cognitive abilities of human beings across any task”—one of the most ambitious goals AI companies are currently pursuing.

More than half of respondents (56 percent) expect that, on balance, AI will have a positive effect on global affairs over the next decade, while less than a third (32 percent) believe it will have a negative effect. These results suggest that the polled experts generally are more optimistic about the technology’s future impact than, for example, the general public in the United States is. But notably, expectations of AI’s negative impact are increasing, rising three percentage points relative to the previous year’s results.

Similarly, while worries about AI’s economic impact remain low among respondents, they are growing. Fourteen percent of respondents now see job losses and economic disruption due to advancements in technology such as AI as the single biggest threat to global prosperity in the coming decade. That’s more than double the previous year’s figure of 6 percent. 

When it comes to social media, our survey respondents have expressed consistently negative views about the technology’s impact on the world—perhaps because social media is now a mature technology with clear downsides, in contrast with the positive expectations people had for the technology fifteen or twenty years ago. Views about AI could follow a similar course if its downside impacts ultimately outweigh its positive ones.

It is not certain that we’re going to get to artificial general intelligence with current trajectories, and there’s also a tremendous amount of uncertainty about which approaches would get us to more generalizable and true reasoning capabilities—or whether those capabilities are even possible to achieve. What we’re seeing with each generation of the current models is higher performance, but it is not clear that training on larger and larger swaths of data, using more compute, is necessarily going to get us to that breakthrough capability of true artificial thinking.

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

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5. Brace for more countries with nuclear weapons—including Iran despite the Israel-Iran war—though not necessarily nuclear use

Our respondents overwhelmingly expect greater proliferation of nuclear weapons over the next decade, with 85 percent believing additional countries or territories will acquire these arms during that timeframe. The most-cited next entrant in the nuclear club is Iran, selected by 66 percent of those anticipating the spread of nuclear weapons—indicating a widespread assumption that the war waged this past summer by Israel and the United States to destroy Iran’s nuclear program did not definitively extinguish that program or Tehran’s nuclear ambitions. This finding may also explain why the second-most-cited actor to obtain nukes in the next ten years (chosen by 53 percent of those expected nuclear spread) is Iran’s rival and neighbor Saudi Arabia.

But many surveyed experts also foresee nuclear proliferation beyond the Middle East. Those who imagine additional nuclear powers emerging also point to East Asia (with 47 percent citing South Korea, 37 percent Japan, and 11 percent Taiwan) and to non-nuclear NATO members as mentioned in our second finding above.

Respondents appear to believe that this nuclear proliferation will occur in the absence of global governance to curb the spread of these weapons, with only 4 percent expecting the greatest expansion of global cooperation over the next decade to occur in the realm of nuclear nonproliferation.

Even with this likelihood of proliferation, however, respondents seem less concerned that nuclear weapons will actually be used over the next ten years, with 78 percent of respondents predicting no nuclear use relative to 52 percent who said the same in the previous year’s survey. Among the fifth of respondents who are forecasting nuclear use, 60 percent envision Russia employing such weapons, with 42 percent pointing to North Korea and, notably, 34 percent citing the United States.

The reduced expectation of nuclear use may stem from assessments that particular actors seem less likely to take such a drastic step relative to assessments a year earlier. For example, 15 percent of all respondents expect Russia to use nuclear weapons in the next ten years—down from 26 percent in the previous year’s survey. For North Korea those numbers dropped from 24 to 10 percent, for terrorist groups 19 to 8 percent, and for Israel 12 to 5 percent. The only actor registering a notable increase is the United States, with 8 percent of all respondents foreseeing US nuclear use. That’s up from 5 percent in the previous year’s survey.

The results present a somewhat contradictory picture. More than 80 percent of the participants expect more nations to acquire nuclear weapons in the coming decade, but nearly the same percentage (78 percent) expect that nuclear weapons will not be used in conflict. It’s possible these responses reflect reduced concern about Russia potentially using nuclear weapons in Ukraine. It does, however, raise questions about why respondents believe more nations would seek nuclear weapons in the absence of circumstances where they might need to employ them in a conflict.

The answer to this conundrum may be evident in respondents’ concerns about the potential for proliferation in Asia, where 47 percent of those anticipating nuclear proliferation expect South Korea to acquire nuclear weapons and 37 percent expect Japan to do so. These numbers likely reflect continuing concerns about a threat environment that includes China’s regional ambitions and the growing nuclear arsenals of both China and North Korea.

They may also reflect concerns about the reliability of US extended nuclear deterrence and credibility of the US commitment to come to the defense of allies. In Europe, this concern has led to occasional discussions among US allies about developing an independent nuclear deterrent. Respondents may have considered whether the nuclear threat environment and proliferation risks might evolve in response to ongoing changes in US national security goals and frequent threats of US military intervention. If the United States is seen as a threat to stability, it could become a source of nuclear risk rather than the foundation of a stable nuclear order.

Amy F. Woolf, former specialist in nuclear weapons policy at the Congressional Research Service of the US Library of Congress and nonresident senior fellow with Forward Defense in the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

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6. Respondents are forecasting a more autonomous Europe, but one that still lags behind China and the US across most measures of power

Our latest survey offers mixed results for Europe and the European Union (EU). Respondents are bearish on the EU’s prospects for joining the top tier of global powers. No respondents forecast the EU becoming the world’s foremost military power in 2036, which isn’t surprising given its history as an economic union. Yet respondents are also pessimistic about the EU’s prospects for becoming the world’s foremost economic power (only 3 percent expected this) or tech power (5 percent) in ten years’ time. Just 8 percent of respondents predict that the euro will make the biggest inroads into the US dollar’s dominance over the next decade. Cryptocurrency, the renminbi, and gold all rated higher as challengers to the dollar. A significant minority of respondents (22 percent) foresee the EU breaking apart by 2036.

However, there is another more bullish side to the ledger. A substantial portion of respondents envision the EU as an important player in the diplomatic arena (17 percent say the EU will be the world’s foremost diplomatic actor in 2036). Thirty percent believe the EU will be the leading power in cultural or soft power, just below the percentage that say the same of the United States and nearly twice the percentage that foresee China occupying this position. For three years now, Global Foresight survey results have also shown steadily rising expectations that Europe—not necessarily defined in this instance as the EU—will have achieved “strategic autonomy” by 2036 through taking more responsibility for its own security, with 57 percent of respondents answering to that effect in our latest survey. That’s up from 48 percent in the previous year’s survey and just 31 percent the year before that.

The survey results about Europe’s quest for strategic autonomy seem to track the prevailing sentiment on the continent about its future in a brave new world of power politics.

 A year into the Trump administration’s second term, the terms of Europe’s debate about greater sovereignty have changed under the impression of simultaneous abandonment and entrapment by the United States. Europeans still remember last year’s disconcerting Oval Office meeting with the Ukrainian president and the freeze of US military and intelligence support for Kyiv—even if it was ultimately temporary. That episode accelerated a fundamental shift for Europeans as they faced up to some deeply uncomfortable and costly realities about the continent’s posture in a new geopolitical era without predictable US support. French politicians and strategists could hardly hold back their collective “told you so.” But even among former skeptics of “strategic autonomy” in Central and Northern Europe, there has been a growing realization that Europe has to rapidly address capability gaps and grow its independent military, economic, and technological means to confront an aggressive Russia, an exploitative China, and a disruptive America.

 In fact, we can see this already happening. In her September 2025 State of the European Union speech, European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen called for Europe’s “independence moment” after launching a slew of defense-related initiatives including the “Rearm Europe 2030” plan and “Security Action for Europe” to mobilize fresh cash for European defense spending.

 The policy follow-up to this realization has been more mixed. Europe has stepped up financially and politically to keep Ukraine in the fight against Russia. It has proposed a package for €800 billion in new defense spending. European NATO countries have committed to new spending and capability targets. Some, like Poland, are already meeting them. Others are obliterating long-held orthodoxies—for example, Germany with its half-trillion-euro surge in defense investment. Beyond defense, the EU has sought to address its economic competitiveness, diversify its trade relations, counter China’s unfair economic practices, boost investment in technology and research and development through a restructured multi-annual budget, and more. But as so often happens in Europe, fragmentation, national interests, and pet projects, plus weak leadership from Brussels to Berlin to Paris, are holding back a more ambitious and concerted drive toward greater autonomy in any one area.

The survey responses share the contradictions and ambiguities of Europe’s political realities around strategic autonomy. Over a fifth of respondents believe the EU could break up over the next decade—not exactly a boost for building up European capacity. Even more strikingly, only miniscule minorities see the EU becoming the leading global power when it comes to diplomatic influence, the economy, or technology. Without Europe-wide coordination and leadership in at least some of these categories, European sovereignty will remain little more than an aspiration.

Jörn Fleck, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center

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7. Respondents see water wars coming, as global warming surpasses key thresholds and climate cooperation cools

Our polling results surfaced some warning signs for climate change as a priority item on the global policy agenda. For the first time in three years of asking this question in Global Foresight surveys, climate change is not the leading perceived threat to global prosperity over the next decade. In our latest survey, just 17 percent of respondents cite climate change as the single biggest threat, relative to the 30 percent who mention war between major powers. That’s roughly half of the percentage of respondents who identified climate change as the biggest threat in our past two surveys. Moreover, only 19 percent of respondents now believe that climate change will generate the greatest increase in international cooperation over the coming decade, just behind technology governance (20 percent) and well down from the 49 percent of respondents who listed climate change just two years ago.

These findings on international climate action contrast with respondents’ forecasts about the changing climate itself. More than 80 percent of respondents expect the world to become hotter, including at least one year over the next decade where the global average temperature is 2 degrees Celsius (or more) warmer than preindustrial levels. The 2-degree increase is a threshold beyond which scientists believe the climate will become less stable; the central goal of the Paris climate accord, negotiated a decade ago, was to limit warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius—a temperature level that was passed in 2024.

This pessimism about limiting global warming may be connected to another finding: Only 40 percent of respondents think that global greenhouse-gas emissions will have peaked and begun to decline by 2036 (up only slightly from our prior year’s survey). Perhaps because of the expectation of rising temperatures, 57 percent of respondents think that public support for action to counter climate change will have increased by 2036. But as our findings indicate, that surge in public support may not correspond with more cooperation at the global level on these issues.

Likely anticipating this hotter, drier, and more unstable climate, two-thirds of respondents (64 percent) expect a war to be fought, at least in part, over access to fresh water in the next decade.

Climate change remains a threat—whether or not it is perceived as an urgent one. This is clear from the science and the 80 percent of respondents who anticipate a hotter world, which will mean more deaths, illnesses, and dramatic, untenable changes to our infrastructure, economies, and way of life.  

Yet climate change is increasingly absent from the global news cycle. Headlines are crowded with concerns about AI, immigration debates, and extreme weather events that are ironically often climate-driven but rarely identified as such. Climate change, as a result, feels to some like an abstract, remote threat rather than an immediate one. We can only process so many crises each day, but climate change is a constant undercurrent. Unfortunately, deprioritizing climate change only intensifies its consequences, leading to more costly disasters and losses in the not-far-off future.

 Kathleen Euler, deputy director of the Atlantic Council’s Climate Resilience Center

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8. Many experts anticipate international institutions decaying as democracy weakens

There’s been a lot of speculation recently about whether the decades-old rules-based international order is collapsing. Our survey respondents suggest we should prepare for such a reality. They express little confidence that today’s multilateral architecture will be influential a decade hence.

The international system put in place at the Congress of Vienna in 1815 endured, with modifications, for nearly a century. The international system associated with the Treaty of Versailles and related treaties ending World War I lasted a much shorter time. The international infrastructure that arose after World War II, including the United Nations (UN), regional security arrangements and alliances such as NATO, and the Bretton Woods economic institutions not only weathered the Cold War but came through it with enhanced authority.

Eighty years on, respondents seem to assess these bodies as increasingly creaky. An overwhelming majority of respondents (71 percent) believe that the UN will become less influential in the coming decade, compared with just 6 percent who say the opposite. For the Security Council, the UN’s most powerful body, 58 percent expect a decline in influence by 2036 and only 9 percent a rise.

On the economic front, survey participants also are much more likely to expect the post-World War II global financial institutions to grow less influential by 2036 than they are to anticipate them becoming more influential. A majority of respondents (65 percent) foresee the World Trade Organization losing influence relative to only 11 percent who imagine it gaining influence. For the World Bank, the equivalent figures are 50 percent and 14 percent; for the International Monetary Fund, 41 percent and 14 percent. Perhaps even more remarkable, only 5 percent of respondents cite declining trade as a result of protectionism as the biggest threat to global prosperity over the next ten years—a decline from the 14 percent who said the same in the previous year’s survey. The fact that this decline occurred after Trump dramatically increased tariffs on countries around the world indicates, apparently, minimal concern about the decline of free trade as a challenge to global prosperity.

This year’s survey also shows that nearly half of respondents (44 percent) believe that over the coming decade the current democratic recession will deepen into a democratic depression. In contrast, only 24 percent foresee a democratic renaissance during that timeframe. 

Predictions about the decline of the international order intersect with those of global democratic decline. Respondents expecting a democratic depression are more likely to foresee core international bodies losing influence over the coming decade than those who forecast a democratic renaissance: from the UN (77 percent vs. 60 percent) and UN Security Council (64 percent vs. 53 percent) to the World Trade Organization (71 percent vs. 48 percent), International Monetary Fund (50 percent vs. 27 percent), and World Bank (53 percent vs. 44 percent).

Respondents who envision continued democratic decline have less faith that over the coming decade major-power war will be avoided, global cooperation will expand, and minority rights around the world will be protected. The vast majority of those anticipating a worsening democratic recession (83 percent) believe that the world overall will be worse off in ten years’ time, whereas 66 percent of those expecting a democratic renaissance think the world will be better off a decade from now.

Many respondents predict democratic decline, decaying international institutions, a risk of major-power war, and generally fear the world will be worse off in ten years’ time. These findings make sense given emerging challenges to US global leadership coming from both without and within.

The US-led, liberal international system has produced unprecedented levels of global peace, prosperity, and freedom over the past eighty years. In this timeframe, we have witnessed zero great power wars, a quintupling of per capita gross domestic product in the United States and dramatic growth in global GDP, and a tenfold increase in the number of people living in liberal democracies. Contrary to a common perception that US grand strategy went off the rails in the post-Cold War world, the data show that the world was safest, richest, and freest during America’s unipolar moment in the 1990s and 2000s.

Unfortunately, these indicators have leveled off and begun to decline in the 2010s and 2020s. Global democracy, for example, has declined in each of the past nineteen years. Our respondents project a continued diminution of US leadership and a corresponding acceleration of these negative trends in the decade to come.  

Matthew Kroenig, former US official in the Department of Defense and the intelligence community during the Bush, Obama, and Trump administrations, and vice president and senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security

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9. The dollar is likely to remain the world’s currency of choice, but keep an eye on crypto

Economists are engaged in an intense debate right now about whether the US dollar can hold on to its status as the world’s leading reserve currency—a position it’s held since World War II. (The Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center tracks the dominance of the dollar on an ongoing basis.) Although the dollar is likely to remain the world’s currency of choice in 2036, our survey results indicate that it won’t go unchallenged. About 80 percent of respondents expect other currencies, commodities, or assets to make inroads into the dollar’s dominance over the next ten years.

The most-cited asset expected to make the biggest inroads into the dollar’s dominance is not a national currency but rather cryptocurrency (34 percent of respondents), with a further 11 percent saying that a commodity—gold—will pose the greatest challenge (we conducted the survey before Bitcoin suffered a precipitous decline in value, dimming optimism about crypto’s future prospects—for the time being at least). Contrast those findings with those for other national currencies besides the dollar: Twenty-one percent of respondents predict that China’s renminbi will make the biggest gains relative to the dollar, while just 8 percent say the same for the euro and 5 percent for the Japanese yen, with no votes for the British pound.

Respondents who foresee China as the world’s leading economic power a decade from now are more likely to imagine the dollar’s dominance eroding. But they are split on its most formidable challengers, with higher figures for China’s currency but also the Japanese yen and gold.

The dollar has had a turbulent year, down more than 9 percent against major currencies in 2025. Against that backdrop, it is interesting that survey respondents see cryptocurrency as the greatest threat to dollar dominance.

The concern is understandable. Crypto’s volatility and recurring crises have coincided with the growth of a “grey economy” where crypto-assets increasingly facilitate sanctions evasion, tax avoidance, and illicit trade beyond US oversight. This undermines the effectiveness of US financial sanctions, a cornerstone of dollar dominance. At the same time, the rise of dollar-backed stablecoins, alongside the United States’ first stablecoin regulation (the 2025 GENIUS Act), suggests Washington increasingly sees these crypto-assets as a way to preserve dollar dominance and bolster demand for dollar assets such as US Treasuries, even as the long-term risks and global spillovers are not yet fully understood.

When it comes to China, the survey results align with reality. While Beijing has been discreet about diversifying away from the dollar, it continues to do so methodically. Its wholesale central bank digital currency (CBDC) project has tested transactions in the digital renminbi, and China’s Cross-Border Interbank Payment System (CIPS) has expanded significantly over the past five years, reducing reliance on dollar-based payment infrastructure.

Still, the dollar’s status remains stable. Data from the Bank for International Settlements shows the dollar on one side of 89 percent of all foreign-exchange trades. Its liquidity keeps it embedded in the plumbing of global markets. Ultimately, the foundations of dollar dominance still lie in trust in US political and legal institutions, including the preservation of central bank independence, which has come under increasing threat.

Alisha Chhangani, associate director at the Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center

Dollar Dominance Monitor

This monitor analyzes the strength of the dollar relative to other major currencies. The project presents interactive indicators to track BRICS and China’s progress in developing an alternative financial infrastructure.

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10. The Global South sees the future differently

Roughly one-fifth (18 percent) of this year’s survey responses came from citizens of countries located in what is often called the Global South. Although it’s an inexact and contested term, the Global South is a useful shorthand to describe countries that are outside the wealthiest group of industrialized nations. While respondents in this category are heavily weighted toward Latin America and the Caribbean (54 percent of the Global South group), forecasts from geostrategists and foresight practitioners across the Global South countries differ from those in the Global North in significant ways. 

For example, respondents from Global South countries are much more likely to rate Russia’s chances in its war in Ukraine higher than other survey participants: Forty-six percent say that the outcome will be on terms favorable to Russia, versus 31 percent who say the same among the rest of the pool. Those from the Global South are also much more likely to see China as a leader in key fields, with 76 percent expecting it to be the top economic power by 2036 compared with 54 percent who feel that way among the rest of the respondents. Global South experts also are more skeptical about the longevity of US power, with only 60 percent of this group expecting the US to retain military dominance over the next ten years relative to 76 percent of other respondents. Remarkably, 22 percent of respondents in the Global South expect the United States to break up internally in the next ten years, compared with 10 percent of other respondents. Those from the Global South are more likely than respondents from elsewhere to expect a global multifront war in the coming decade (48 percent relative to 40 percent) as well, with a larger proportion expecting such a conflict to be sparked by events in the Middle East (35 percent compared with 8 percent). 

The percentage of respondents from the Global South who expect the United States to break up internally in the next ten years is more than twice as high as that of respondents from outside the Global South. Similarly, 76 percent of Global South respondents expect China to overtake the United States as the world’s dominant economy, compared with 54 percent for the rest of the respondents.

These expectations may be due to a combination of factors. One is the US withdrawal to a position of greater economic isolation. Another is the perception that the United States is pulling back from humanitarian engagement in the Global South, and that it is undergoing a period of political discord—an assessment that may reflect the Global South’s own experiences with weak institutions.

Perceptions aside, political discord as a factor is measurable, especially when examined alongside data from the Freedom and Prosperity Indexes. Among “high freedom” countries since 1995, no country has experienced a greater decline in freedom than the United States. The decline is driven by institutional erosion and executive aggrandizement. Because some developing countries in the Global South have more recent history with political discord and breakdown than others, it is very possible that Global South respondents view political developments in the United States as existential threats to America’s unity, while others living in countries with stronger institutions have different understandings of and greater faith in the resilience of American democracy. 

James Mazzarella, former senior director for global economics and development at the National Security Council, now senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center.

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About the authors

Aylward was an editor at War on the Rocks and Army AL&T before joining the Council. She was previously a junior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.
Engelke is on the adjunct faculty at Georgetown University’s School of Continuing Studies and is a frequent lecturer to the US Department of State’s Foreign Service Institute. He was previously a member of the World Economic Forum’s Global Future Council on Complex Risks, an executive-in-residence at the Geneva Centre for Security Policy, a Bosch fellow with the Robert Bosch Foundation, and a visiting fellow at the Stimson Center.
Friedman is also a contributing writer at The Atlantic, where he writes a regular column on international affairs. He was previously a senior staff writer at The Atlantic covering national security and global affairs, the editor of The Atlantic’s Global section, and the deputy managing editor of Foreign Policy magazine.
Kielstra is a freelance author who has published extensively in fields including business analysis, healthcare, energy policy, fraud control, international trade, and international relations. His work regularly includes the drafting and analysis of large surveys, along with desk research, expert interviews, and scenario building. His clients have included the Atlantic Council, the Economist Group, the Financial Times Group, the World Health Organization, and Kroll. Kielstra holds a doctorate in modern history from the University of Oxford, a graduate diploma in economics from the London School of Economics, and a bachelor of arts from the University of Toronto. He is also a published historian.

The post Welcome to 2036: What the world could look like in ten years, according to nearly 450 experts appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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The Global Foresight 2036 survey: Full results https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/atlantic-council-strategy-paper-series/the-global-foresight-2036-survey-full-results/ Tue, 10 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902633 In the fall of 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security surveyed the future, asking leading geostrategists and foresight experts around the world to answer our most burning questions about the biggest drivers of change over the next ten years. Here are the full results. 

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The Global Foresight 2036 survey

Full results

This survey was conducted from November 14, 2025, through December 5, 2025. 

Demographic data

Survey questions

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AI and the future https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/atlantic-council-strategy-paper-series/ai-and-the-future/ Tue, 10 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=903244 What does the next year, decade, and beyond hold for AI? We interviewed the Atlantic Council’s tech experts to learn more about AI's future, and whether it can help us better understand our own.

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AI and the future

Our experts on the ability of artificial intelligence to forecast the decade ahead—and how AI itself will change over that time

Three years since ChatGPT launched, a combination of hype and fear has made it hard to think clearly about our new age of artificial intelligence (AI). But AI has the potential to change the world—from energy to geopolitics to the global economy to the very production and application of human knowledge. If ever we needed clear-eyed analysis, it’s now.

At the Atlantic Council, our experts in the Atlantic Council Technology Programs spend a lot of their time thinking about how AI will shape our future—and they have the technical literacy essential to the task. So, as part of our annual Global Foresight report on the decade to come, we asked them our most pressing questions: How will AI evolve over the next ten years and beyond? How can we use AI to forecast global affairs? And—let’s be real—will this thing replace us?  

Then our experts put AI chatbots through their paces, presenting them with questions from our Global Foresight survey of (human) geostrategists and foresight practitioners about what the world will look like by 2036. Check out the results of this experiment and our experts’ broader insights in the short videos below, along with edited and condensed highlights from our conversations.  

How good is AI at predicting the future? 

I would not trust today’s AI systems to reliably forecast global affairs. I think that comes down to the fact that, so often, global events don’t follow predictable patterns. That’s because so much of global geopolitics is driven by human decisions.  

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

When you’re asking [AI] to predict the future, you’re asking it a big, unbounded question. What large language models (or LLMs), which is what the current generation of generative artificial intelligence is built on, are good at doing is next-word or next-token prediction.

Trey Herr, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative

Right now, I think any policymaker would be very poorly served by, say, pulling up an LLM and asking, “What’s going to happen next?” That’s not really the strength of these modern systems.

Emerson Brooking, director of strategy and resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab

It is not a crystal ball. In technical terms, AI is probabilistic. It is not predictive or deterministic. A fundamental barrier for artificial intelligence is that it cannot experience the real world. Some of us may be familiar with Plato’s allegory of the cave. AI is kind of like those cave dwellers experiencing the world as shadows and echoes. They’re not living real experiences, and so are limited in that sense. We can, however, envision a world where AI models and human forecasters work together to make better predictions. 

Trisha Ray, associate director and resident fellow at the Atlantic Council’s GeoTech Center

If you asked an AI system to predict the outcome of the Super Bowl, you could equip the model with data from past seasons, the teams, the performance of the players, and the trajectory of those teams over the course of the season. Feed it all of the accurate data of today’s teams and players, and it might come out with some kind of approximation of the top contenders to win the Super Bowl. But the system is not going to be able to predict that rogue tackle that creates a season-ending injury for a star player, or the interpersonal dynamics among the team that can either supercharge their pathway to the championship or totally derail it.

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

AI’s limitation is that it cannot produce new information. It can’t expand the universe of knowledge that we’re currently training on. What it can do is identify novel insights, identify trends that may have taken humans a lot of time to manually produce or see.  

Graham Brookie, Atlantic Council vice president for technology programs and strategy

Today’s AI systems are well-suited for predictive tasks where there are stable patterns and there’s a good amount of historical data to train the systems on. So this bears out in near-term weather prediction, traffic patterns, predicting maintenance needs for an airplane or some other complex manufacturing system.

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

How will AI evolve over the next decade? 

The growth of AI capability over the past few years has essentially been predictable: It continues to increase exponentially as we devote exponentially more processing power and energy to its needs. But that can’t go on indefinitely. I think soon there will be something that feels like a ceiling. 

Emerson Brooking, director of strategy and resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab

The bubble that is this market is going to pop, and we’re going to see some of these firms fail. You’re going to see others rise up and succeed. Now this could have some really harmful financial consequences for real people, as well as markets in the US, in Western Europe, and elsewhere. But the side effect of that is likely that there is a lot of infrastructure, a lot of computing resources, a lot of talent that’s suddenly available and looking for work and looking for ways to be useful. And that kind of thing can be a really powerful driver of innovation.  

Trey Herr, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative

Another very significant risk to the progress of AI is trust. I think this is particularly salient in the United States, where recent polls have shown that 60 percent of American adults don’t trust the output of an AI system to be fair and unbiased. I think there’s a scenario where with that baseline level of distrust, if that’s then followed by, say, a series of accidents that could be blamed on AI, or destructive news around AI, then consumers will lose confidence in the technology and businesses will [assume] a higher level of risk in adopting the technology, which will then lead to a cooling in investment and in markets. 

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

You could imagine in ten years an absolutely fantastical, extremely powerful tool assisting you in every aspect of daily life and essentially knowing what you want at all times. But my greater concern, if that is the future, is then who will have access to this tool? Because for AI [tools] to be this capable, they will be immensely energy intensive. They will be extremely expensive. And the current moment we’re in now—in which there’s been a real focus on making AI as accessible to as many people as possible—I wonder how much longer that will last and if we might create these exquisite systems but have them accessible only to a very few people.  

Emerson Brooking, director of strategy and resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab

We’re seeing a lot of attention today on building what are called “world models.” Instead of predicting the next word, these models are predicting the next action in the world. If we’re able to move in that direction, then we’re really going to see the true impact of AI across society by breaking AI out of this computer interface into robotics that can take on more tasks. 

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

What is possible is that in the future, we’re going to see a larger application of small language models that are built for specific purposes and have that contextual knowledge, or are hooked up to a very relevant database, so that when you log in, you’re logging into a geopolitical chatbot as opposed to a general purpose tool. [There is] a much higher likelihood that it’ll be able to give you good answers. We’re a ways off from that, though. 

Trey Herr, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative

Any predictions for how AI will change over the next year specifically? 

One of the trends I would look out for in 2026 is countries going all in on sovereign AI. The principle driving this trend toward sovereign AI is quite simple: It’s governments saying we need to control AI before it controls us. Now, what is sovereign AI? It is a model of AI development, driven by four characteristics: One, adherence to national laws. The second is national security. The third is economic competitiveness, where there’s a desire for the development and deployment of these models to benefit the home economies. And then the fourth and most interesting one is value alignment—the belief that these models have to adhere to a certain set of ideological and constitutional rules. But here’s a not-so-well-kept secret: It is not possible for a country to build the entire AI stack indigenously.

Trisha Ray, associate director and resident fellow at the Atlantic Council’s GeoTech Center

There are two trends we should look out for. The first [is] indicators of the continuing sophistication of these tools. In particular I would focus on the context window—the amount of information that [these tools] have direct access to at any one time. When ChatGPT launched, the context window was about 4,000 characters, not very much. A year later, it was 100,000. Today some of the most popular consumer-grade models have a context window of up to 2 million. That is still a drop in the bucket next to the information that these machines will need to actively hold in order to be truly revolutionary and effective. If we can start to see somehow, through maybe some clever engineering, exponential growth in that context window, then we might actually be on a path to something we describe as artificial general intelligence.  

The other [trend involves] the financing, political conditions, and even the actual energy costs that are associated with these systems. As these elements begin to shift, some of the AI companies that so far have been able to have these continuing rounds of open financing with ever-higher valuations, if they start to reach some sort of ceiling—that will start to send shocks through this whole system, which may affect AI development in a very different way. 

Emerson Brooking, director of strategy and resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab

How revolutionary is AI?  

AI is changing the way that we interact with things that we touch every single day. In ten years, I think that you will see more AI in commercial landscapes, in security landscapes, or even in warfare. I think it’s highly likely that we achieve general artificial intelligence. That doesn’t necessarily mean that killer robots are going to govern all of us. 

Graham Brookie, Atlantic Council vice president for technology programs and strategy

What we’re seeing is one of the most significant changes in digital technology easily in the last fifty years, probably since the creation of the personal computer. Before the PC, you had to go somewhere to an institution and ask for time on a computer. And then suddenly with personal computers, you had them in your office, in your living room. You didn’t need an institution. It just inverted the relationship and inverted a huge power dynamic. AI has done the same thing. It’s put the ability to do complex research and production of knowledge into every single person’s hands. 

Trey Herr, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative

Artificial intelligence, the way we use it now, is not transformational yet. I would say AI is more a continuation of the digital revolution. It’s exciting for sure, but not society-shaking as of yet. If we think about the industrial revolution, it changed the way we live, changed the way we work, and even changed our politics. It shifted the nexus of economic growth from farms to cities. And if we just reflect on the role that AI plays in our economy right now, it is not at the stage to be called an AI revolution. Yet. 

Trisha Ray, associate director and resident fellow at the Atlantic Council’s GeoTech Center

Will AI replace humans? 

Humans can think. Generative artificial intelligence models can’t think. That’s a really, really crucial distinction. It’s easy to anthropomorphize something that will chat with you.  

Trey Herr, senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative

Humans understand context. They understand cause and effect. Humans also have creativity to think through different scenarios that might not be present in prior events, where an AI system is not going to be able to creatively think of a new event. 

Tess deBlanc-Knowles, senior director of Atlantic Council Technology Programs

As more and more time passes and the use of these tools becomes normalized, it may be that AI is never all that good at predicting the future, but that it feels good enough at doing it—and predicting the future is so hard anyway—that we turn that task over to AI; that human beings, with our extraordinarily capable and irreplaceable brains, give up on some of that higher-order thinking and try to let these machines do more and more of the job. And no matter how capable AI becomes, I see that as a tragedy. 

We could reach a really strange point where people are using these tools and basically relying on them to tell them what to do and how to live their lives, and they’ve essentially outsourced a lot of higher-order and critical thinking to these tools, having forgotten or having never known that no matter how omniscient these tools seem to be, they themselves are creations from limited human-created data sets and human processes designed in a particular moment in time. 

We could find ourselves trapped in some kind of recursive loop where the future and the horizon of possibilities keeps getting narrower and narrower, because that is what the machine is telling us is possible—that machine that was only trained on what humans knew to be possible. 

Emerson Brooking, director of strategy and resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab

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Six ‘snow leopards’ to watch for in the decade ahead https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/atlantic-council-strategy-paper-series/six-snow-leopards-to-watch-for-in-the-decade-ahead/ Mon, 09 Feb 2026 21:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902864 Our scholars scan the horizon for the underappreciated phenomena that could have outsize impact on the world, driving global change and shaping the future.

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Six ‘snow leopards’ to watch for in the decade ahead

Panthera uncia—the snow leopard that inhabits high mountain ranges in Central and South Asia—is one of nature’s best-camouflaged animals. The majestic cat’s beautiful white coat, with gray and black spots, blends seamlessly into the rocky and snowy landscape in which it lives. Known as “the ghost of the mountains,” it seems to appear out of thin air. The reality, of course, is the snow leopard has been there all along, an unseen sight. 

In world affairs, there are numerous under-the-radar phenomena that are difficult to spot but crucial to understand given their capacity for disruption and transformation. Like the Himalayan cat, these metaphorical “snow leopards” may appear invisible but in fact are all around us: early-stage technologies that, if developed and scaled, might yield revolutionary results; social movements that, while just beginning to gather strength, could have enormous political consequences in the years to come; demographic trends that only a few experts study but that could overhaul societies in the long run; ecological changes that are not yet fully understood by scientists but could portend disaster ahead should they worsen. These phenomena present underrated risks or opportunities. Each of them could reshape the future. Some already are. We just need to know where to look.

Each year, our Global Foresight series identifies a new set of snow leopards. In this year’s edition, as in previous editions, this challenging task fell to the Atlantic Council’s younger staff, who are well-positioned to identify trends, events, technologies, and forces that their older colleagues might overlook. They scrutinized the world around them and came up with a list of underappreciated but potentially world-changing phenomena. 

In the years to come, keep an eye on these six snow leopards. 

The tech companies altering the course of conflicts

When businesses are first movers on the battlefield

When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, among the first responders were a conglomeration of cyber and tech companies of all sizes. These companies did critical work to ensure that Ukraine’s cyber defenses held up against an unprecedented onslaught of Russian cyberattacks. Combined with assistance from allied governments, such efforts helped keep the lights on in Ukraine. But the companies’ interventions amounted to entering a conflict of their own volition, without a state’s authorization or direction—which triggered profound geopolitical risks.

The private sector participating in conflict is nothing new; governments have contracted with private companies in war and peacetime for centuries. But three elements are new: First, cybersecurity companies have begun entering interstate conflicts without the authorization of or at least direction from states. Second, these companies effectively possess state-grade capabilities—and, with that, the ability to make world-changing decisions—but without the policy, legal, or risk frameworks states erect around such capabilities to constrain their use. Third, states, citizens, and businesses are increasingly dependent on these companies’ infrastructure and services in peacetime and for cyber defense in conflict. Microsoft recognized this in a June 2022 reflection on the company’s assistance to Ukraine, declaring that the technology sector has an “inevitable” role to play in the “cyber defense of nations.”

The risks of this kind of private-sector involvement in conflict are already emerging. Civil society has raised questions about whether cyber and tech companies constitute combatants under international humanitarian law, particularly where their capabilities intersect with state capabilities—as when, for example, private firms identify exploitable vulnerabilities (or “zero days”) in other companies’ software code. As states and others increasingly contest privately owned digital infrastructure, ideologically motivated cyberattacks (“hacktivism”) have also risen—creating heightened risks of retaliation. The whims of tech executives also have geopolitical consequence. In September 2022, for example, Elon Musk reportedly cut internet access in Ukraine provided via his Starlink satellite technology, disrupting a key Ukrainian counteroffensive. In response, a British member of parliament decried the “dangers of concentrated power in unregulated domains.”

Where these risks could amount to world-changing impact is during a potential Chinese invasion of Taiwan, and both Taipei and Beijing are clearly paying attention. Musk’s reported decision to cut Ukraine’s internet access was one reason Taiwan set up its own satellite internet infrastructure. There is some evidence that the Chinese state also is learning lessons from Russia’s war in Ukraine about the role of US cyber and tech companies as a source of advantage in conflict. This development might not be so concerning were it not for the significant business dependencies that Apple and other US tech giants have in China, which could muddy decision-making during any period of conflict. The clarity and unity of purpose seen in cyber companies’ efforts to help Ukraine cannot be guaranteed in the future.

This is an issue that the international security community must address through dialogue and policy development with the private sector. Goals should include firmer guardrails and improved accountability mechanisms—or outright deference to states as primary decision-makers. Such dialogue will prepare states and industry to jointly navigate future conflicts and collective preparedness without generating unintended consequences when the private sector jumps ahead of states. 

Nikita Shah is a former senior resident fellow in the Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative with ten years’ experience as a national security professional in the UK government specializing in cyber security.

The migrants moving in loops, not lines

Leave, learn, return—and start a business?

Many countries have experienced migration as a driver of “brain drain”—a one-way outflow of human capital. But a more dynamic pattern is reshaping global talent flows in some parts of the world. A growing number of migrants who work or study overseas are returning to their home countries with new skills—a pattern known as “brain circulation”—or staying closely connected to their home countries and turning their global experiences into new opportunities there.

Brain drain refers to the loss that occurs when a country’s citizens, especially highly skilled and educated workers, pursue opportunities abroad. Host countries often gain productivity, tax revenue, and innovation—except when migrants are pushed into low-skilled work (such as when immigrants holding master’s degrees work at jobs requiring a high-school diploma), a phenomenon known as “brain waste.”

Another concept, “brain gain,” captures the positive effects of emigration for sending countries: The prospect of opportunities abroad motivates more people to pursue higher education, most of whom remain at home. Those who do leave often continue to contribute through remittances and stronger trade ties.

But these concepts overlook the circulation of talent that is quietly changing the geography of opportunity worldwide. “Brain circulation” first became visible in countries such as India and China, where engineers and entrepreneurs who had lived and worked in the United States returned and used their US career experience to start businesses at home.

What began as a modest trend in the early 2000s is accelerating as travel and digital connectivity become more accessible. The circulation of skilled, educated workers is now remaking national and regional economies. Studies show that returning immigrants tend to be more entrepreneurial and resilient than their peers and are significantly more likely to start businesses. Migrants return with expertise and global exposure they could not have acquired domestically.

Central and Eastern Europe illustrate how transformative this loop can be. After experiencing decades of outward migration, Central and Eastern European countries are now registering rising return flows. Romania, for example, has had three consecutive years of positive net migration driven by returning citizens. They launch startups, invest in local ecosystems, and open doors to new practices and global markets, sometimes with the support of government financing programs. Such ventures are helping power a regional boom. In 2024, startups in the region raised nearly €3.7 billion, a 56 percent increase from the previous year. Nearly half of that total—more than a billion euros—came from companies whose founders studied or worked abroad, or worked at big multinational companies.

At a time when many countries are grappling with aging populations, talent shortages, and relentless competition, this loop of leaving, learning, and returning is becoming a critical source of national advantage. Brain circulation offers a replicable model for countries that need to catalyze growth and sustain innovation. Countries that recognize this opportunity build policies and institutions that drive people, skills, and capital to move in loops, not lines, so that yesterday’s emigrants become tomorrow’s nation-builders. The future belongs to dynamic societies that treat mobility as a renewable resource, turning migration into a story of shared prosperity and, ultimately, into the backbone of a global innovation system that can respond to challenges and opportunities no country can tackle alone.

Uliana Certan is an assistant director for European engagement at the Atlantic Council’s Global Energy Center and Atlantic Council Romania.

The underwater forests helping heal the climate

Big seaweed could be big business

In the waters off one-third of the world’s coastlines grows a powerhouse plant: kelp. Towering kelp forests capture twenty times more carbon dioxide (CO2) than do land forests of equivalent size. They promise lower-cost and lower-carbon ways to feed the world’s population, and they protect coastlines from the effects of more powerful storms. As scientists and policymakers increasingly turn to nature-based solutions to take on climate change, these colorful stalks of algae may be the next big thing.

Kelp forests can remove one ton of carbon emissions from the atmosphere for somewhere between $20 and $85. To do the same with direct-air-capture machines costs $1,000 per ton. Not only is kelp an incredible carbon sink, it drives other forms of environmental conservation and protection. The stalks reduce the size of tidal waves by up to 60 percent, prevent soil erosion, and absorb agricultural runoff. Studies show that kelp supports the development of the biogenic aerosols that help clouds form, reducing the temperature of water, soil, and air. Kelp also is an ingredient in biodegradable biopolymers, which can replace petroleum-based plastics.

In the food and agriculture sectors, kelp is both a nutritional food source and a protective habitat for hundreds of plant and animal species, including commercial fish such as cod, crab, octopus, and lobster.

And it doesn’t stop at seafood: Sprinkling seaweed on cattle feed can reduce cows’ methane emissions by between 40 and 80 percent. Kelp can be processed into natural, liquid biostimulants for agriculture, which can reduce the need for artificial fertilizers that release greenhouse gases. These kelp-based treatments also could reduce the large amounts of water required by many high-value cash crops such as almonds, avocados, strawberries, and grapes.

Beyond the environment and agri-food industries, kelp generates health and cosmetic products, attractive tourist destinations for snorkeling, and critical supplies for indigenous communities.

Kelp, however, faces an uncertain future due to predators, pollution, and marine heatwaves induced by climate change. Efforts to regrow damaged kelp forests off the coast of California offer a prime example for other coastal governments. Scientists and conservationists are planting specific kelp varieties that grow three times faster and absorb double the amount of CO2 compared with other kelp. When this kelp matures, by some calculations it could absorb as much CO2 as the global aviation sector emits. Kelp could help the state meet its target of reaching net-zero emissions by 2045—five years sooner than the target set in the 2015 Paris Agreement.

To help kelp survive in warmer oceans, scientists use remotely operated vehicles and motorized growing lattices, raising the kelp toward the water’s surface during the day to absorb sunlight and lowering it into deeper, more nutrient-rich water at night.

The effects of climate change on the world’s coral reefs have grabbed headlines. The United Nations Decade on Environmental Restoration has increased attention on coral-reef, mangrove, and seagrass restoration efforts. But so far, there has been limited funding focused specifically on kelp growth and management.

Global cooperation on kelp will be crucial for future climate efforts, as new research proves that oceanic carbon sinks are 15 percent larger than land sinks. But even in the absence of such coordination, expect continued momentum for work on kelp. Kelp and seaweed farming is the fastest-growing global aquaculture industry, increasing 6.2 percent per year over the last twenty years. Countries in Asia, particularly China and Indonesia, produce 98 percent of farmed seaweed by volume globally, but there is enormous potential for growth and applications in Europe, Africa, and the Americas. And with a $500 billion market, kelp has plenty of potential to combat climate change, mitigate the biodiversity crisis around the world, and develop a more profitable and sustainable “blue economy.”

Ginger Matchett is an assistant director for the GeoStrategy Initiative in the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

The crumbling human rights order

Are we going back to the bad old days?

In recent years, an alarming number of countries have withdrawn from or defied human rights treaties and humanitarian conventions. Global norms about how human beings should be treated were a key part of the international system that arose after World War II, including the 1948 adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Specialists have said for years that this postwar system is under stress. But the consequences for individuals are underappreciated. If the postwar order was a bulwark against the horrors of the twentieth century, the idea that ordinary citizens should be protected from unrestrained state power was a load-bearing pillar. The weakening of that pillar is ominous and risks a future with fewer human rights than exist today. 

The retreat from human rights is happening at two levels: through actors exiting treaties, and through changes in the societal expectations that those treaties both reflect and reinforce.

Consider the developments of just this past year. In 2025, the United States, Israel, and Nicaragua withdrew from the United Nations Human Rights Council, reducing the reach and legitimacy of one of the few multilateral bodies tasked with universal monitoring of rights.

That same year, Lithuania, Estonia, Finland, Latvia, and Poland withdrew from the 1997 Anti-Personnel Mine Ban Treaty, while Lithuania separately pulled out of the 2008 Convention on Cluster Munitions. Proposals for other NATO members to take similar steps further highlight the erosion of norms against weapons that can indiscriminately harm civilians long after conflicts end. These shifts are coming as countries facing new security pressures increasingly prioritize military flexibility over humanitarian restrictions. The withdrawing states—all of which border Russia or Belarus—have cited the dangers they are confronting in the wake of the Kremlin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, which has been rife with human rights abuses. In light of the withdrawing countries’ statements, it seems unlikely that any would have withdrawn had Russia not invaded Ukraine—which underscores the snowball effect of diminishing postwar humanitarian norms, and why each violation matters.

Norms may be intangible, but after 1945 countries codified many of them into binding commitments in an effort to build a better world with such norms at its core. Once these norms are weakened, as appears to be occurring now, they may never recover. This diminishes international law, emboldens perpetrators of human rights violations and war crimes, fuels cycles of impunity, and leaves civilians increasingly vulnerable. The cumulative effect is a weakened global system of accountability at precisely the moment when conflicts and authoritarian forces are on the rise.

Sarah Wallace is a former program assistant for the GeoStrategy Initiative and Adrienne Arsht National Security Resilience Initiative in the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

The cultural erasure driven by AI

Out of the dataset, out of mind

We know who we are because of our memories, our history, and our stories. Today, artificial intelligence (AI) is becoming an important part of how people store information, as generative AI tools are woven into search engines, social media platforms, and everyday interfaces like virtual assistants. The data these generative AI tools draw on to answer our questions or summarize our emails shapes how people understand the world.

The current generation of AI, however, is built on Western-centric datasets that are disproportionately produced, curated, and governed in North America and Western Europe, largely in English. Knowledge that is oral, community-held, locally archived, or produced outside these systems is far less likely to be captured. Optimized for volume rather than nuance, these systems put cultures that fall outside dominant data flows at risk.

The phenomenon of cultural erasure can take two forms: omission, where cultures fail to appear entirely, and simplification, where complex traditions are reduced to stereotypes. The cases of small and developing states illustrate these risks most vividly. Much of the intangible heritage of the world’s island states, for instance, remains under-digitized, preserved instead through oral storytelling, music, ritual, and collective memory. When generative AI encounters such cultures, it often only reflects what can be easily retrieved from training data. For example, AI-generated media depicting “Caribbean culture” tends to reproduce a narrow canon of beaches, rum, and steelpan. Missing are the complexities: linguistic diversity and multi-ethnic histories that define the region’s melting-pot identity. Pre-AI search engines didn’t return a complete, nuanced picture of these small cultures either. But generative AI can process so much data so quickly that the speed and scale of the threat have changed. The kind of responses AI tools offer can also create the impression of a more definitive answer. Where search engines returned a page of links or a variety of pictures for the user to browse and evaluate, generative AI products offer a more finished-looking result: complete sentences and paragraphs, or a single composite image. For the people living in these smaller states, AI-driven “data colonialism” shapes how the world sees them and, potentially, how they see themselves.

If AI advances to a point where it becomes the default lens through which people encounter culture, then nations and groups underrepresented in AI training data risk losing authorship of their own stories. The version that survives may be the one defined by external markets. Indigenous groups, minority-language speakers, and marginalized communities around the world all face this threat.

But small island states can use their position at the United Nations and elsewhere to elevate concerns around cultural data representation and press for international standards, compelling actors who can shape the global AI ecosystem to take action. These nations can play a catalytic role in making cultural representation a priority for technology governance, even if the power to execute change lies elsewhere.

Preventing cultural erasure means embedding diverse heritage into datasets, creating frameworks and metrics that assess cultural harm through an interdisciplinary lens, and ensuring AI governance treats cultural erasure as seriously as information manipulation or digital privacy. The question is not just whether AI models are accurate, but also whether they reinforce or erode the cultural foundations communities rely on. As AI increasingly shapes what the world finds, learns, and imagines, we must confront a pressing question: If a culture isn’t in the dataset, can it survive the AI era?

Dominique Ramsawak is the associate director of communications at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab.

The neurotechnology that could read your mind

Whether you want it to or not

The next tech disruption could be the human mind paired with cutting-edge neurotechnology. New kinds of neurotech create pathways for communications between the human brain and external devices, some implanted in the brain. Recent developments in neurotech that don’t require an implant—and could eventually even be portable—signal a future in which there could be ways to read someone’s thoughts, with or without their permission.

One such development is a semantic decoder that translates the brain’s electromagnetic waves into a continuous stream of text capturing what someone is thinking about, with varying degrees of precision. Currently, the decoder works with a trained model—a version of the large language models powering chatbots—using brain activity measured on a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanner. Earlier versions required a user to lie down in an MRI machine for the better part of a day to train the system. In 2025, researchers tested a version of the decoder that only requires an hour of training. Developments like these, coupled with investments expected to surpass four billion dollars in 2025, indicate the potential for additional advances in the field. And if neurotech follows the trajectory that computers did—the first computers took up an entire room; now billions of people carry one in their pocket—it’s possible there will be portable systems in the future.

While the idea of something invading your thoughts might be alarming, there are both positive and negative potential applications of this technology. Any patient with a medical condition that makes it difficult or impossible for them to speak—Parkinson’s disease, aphasia, the aftereffects of a stroke—could benefit. So could patients suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder who find it difficult to speak about their trauma.

Ethical considerations must also be taken into account. While it’s hard to predict exactly how this technology will evolve, laws protecting neural data privacy will be needed. In November 2025, UNESCO adopted the first global ethical framework for neurotechnology, seeking to ensure that “neurotechnological innovation benefits those in need without compromising mental privacy.”

In 1992, the physicist and theologian Ian Barbour observed that all technological advances are multifaceted in nature, acting as a liberator, a threat, and an instrument of power. That framework will hold true for the neurotech transformations we’ll experience in the years ahead.

Tatevik Khachatryan is an assistant director for events at the Atlantic Council.

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Mining without rules: The risky US bet on the deep sea https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/mining-without-rules-the-risky-us-bet-on-the-deep-sea/ Mon, 09 Feb 2026 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902594 Amid efforts to acquire coveted critical minerals, in April 2025 the United States permitted deep-sea mining within international waters. Elisabeth Braw explores the implications of the Trump Administration's move for global maritime norms.

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Bottom lines up front

  • In April 2025, President Donald Trump issued an executive order permitting deep-sea mining in international waters.
  • This is contrary to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, and might mean that the United States has violated customary international law.
  • The executive order raises questions regarding the legal status of any mining that might take place under US license, particularly whether insurers and companies based outside the US would be willing to participate.

The increasingly tense geopolitical landscape has brought into sharp relief Western dependence on rare earth minerals. The minerals exist in minuscule concentrations (hence the “rare” label) in rock around the world, but where the rare earths are found is less important than how they are processed. Because the processing is cumbersome and extremely polluting, Western countries have long been reluctant to permit large-scale processing, which has instead become the domain of Chinese companies.

That has resulted in rare earths overwhelmingly being processed in China: As of 2025, some 90 percent of rare earths are processed there.1 Western governments have long tolerated this situation, even though it involved minerals crucial to the functioning of modern societies, because they believed in the rules of globalization and calculated that China would not weaponize other countries’ rare earth dependence. (Products such as smartphones, electric vehicles, wind turbines, and fighter jets require one or more rare earths.) However, escalating geopolitical competition has raised concerns that China could ban exports of these minerals to Western countries. At various points, Beijing has suspended rare earth exports to specific countries or threatened to do so. The most infamous case occurred in 2010, when Beijing banned exports to Japan after the latter detained a Chinese fishing-boat captain for trespassing in Japanese waters (over which China also claims sovereignty).2 Such actions, however, were so limited that most countries considered continued reliance on Chinese-processed rare earths an acceptable risk. Or, rather, they knew that citizens would vehemently oppose processing the rare earths domestically.3

But as geopolitical tensions between China and the West have intensified, Beijing has increasingly threatened to impose restrictions on rare earth exports to Western countries. In April 2025, China responded to Trump’s announcement of steep tariffs on Chinese goods (as well as goods from other countries) by imposing export restrictions on seven rare earths.4 At the end of that month, Trump issued an executive order, “Unleashing America’s Offshore Critical Minerals and Resources,” giving US-based companies the right to mine for critical minerals in seabed areas beyond national jurisdiction; that is, in international waters.5 In the order, the president instructs his administration to identify “private sector interest and opportunities for seabed mineral resource exploration, mining, and environmental monitoring in the United States Outer Continental Shelf; in areas beyond national jurisdiction; and in areas within the national jurisdictions of certain other nations that express interest in partnering with United States companies on seabed mineral development.”6 In October 2025, Beijing imposed further export restrictions on rare earths. This was an apparent response to the US announcement of significant tariffs on Chinese goods; after the United States lowered the tariffs, China suspended the restrictions.7

Mining in the law of the sea

The existence of valuable minerals—manganese, cobalt, nickel, copper, and rare earth elements—at the bottom of the ocean has been known since the 1800s, and the minerals’ locations are well documented. The largest concentrations are in the deep sea; that is, outside countries’ territorial waters and exclusive economic zones (EEZ).8 (The Clarion-Clipperton Zone between Hawaii and Mexico is home to particularly large amounts.) The minerals are found in so-called polymetallic nodules the size and shape of potatoes, which lie on the seabed at depths of 3,500–6,000 meters.9 Because the nodules reside primarily in international waters, reaching agreement on the circumstances under which they can be mined has long been considered a task for the global community of nations.

In 1982, when the vast majority of the world’s nations adopted, signed, and later ratified the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), they included a section dedicated to the deep-sea mining of these minerals, which Part XI of UNCLOS calls “the common heritage of mankind.”10 UNCLOS specifies the conditions under which polymetallic nodules can be mined from the areas of the international seabed where they can be found: “All rights in the resources of the Area are vested in mankind as a whole, on whose behalf the Authority shall act. These resources are not subject to alienation. The minerals recovered from the Area, however, may only be alienated in accordance with this Part and the rules, regulations and procedures of the Authority.” UNCLOS continues: “No State or natural or juridical person shall claim, acquire or exercise rights with respect to the minerals recovered from the Area except in accordance with this Part. Otherwise, no such claim, acquisition or exercise of such rights shall be recognized.”11

The authority referenced is the International Seabed Authority (ISA), which was created when UNCLOS came into force in 1994. With UNCLOS universally considered the constitution of the oceans, the ISA is ipso facto the global seabed regulator. (UNCLOS also encompasses elements of customary law.) Since the ISA’s inception, its member states—the countries that have ratified UNCLOS—have tried to reach an agreement governing deep-sea mining. Because the United States has not ratified UNCLOS, it is not a member of the ISA, though it has participated in the negotiations as an observer.12

A key reason why the United States decided not to sign or ratify UNCLOS was opposition to Part XI. This issue aside, the United States has long abided by UNCLOS’s key tenets, not least because a functioning maritime order also benefits the United States. Indeed, the United States has always treated UNCLOS as a reflection of customary international law, save for Part XI. It is also worth highlighting that the part of UNCLOS regarding the settlement of disputes does not, and cannot, reflect customary international law as it lacks a “norm-creating” character, said Iva Parlov, an associate professor at BI Norwegian Business School who specializes in the law of the sea.

This means that if you, for example, are a party to UNCLOS, mandatory settlement of disputes applies to you. You can have certain reservations about it, but essentially another state can bring you to an international court or tribunal, as specified under UNCLOS. When you’re not a party to a certain treaty, you don’t face mandatory settlement of disputes mechanism under UNCLOS, even though that treaty can reflect customary international law, precisely because settlement of disputes is not part of the customary international norm. That means you can be bound by the customary international norm reflected in UNCLOS, but not by the settlement of disputes provisions.


—Iva Parlov

Because UNCLOS codifies and thus functions as customary international law, Trump’s executive order permitting deep-sea mining under US license—which runs contrary to UNCLOS—presents an obvious and immediate legal experiment. The US government can argue that, as a non-UNCLOS signatory, it is free to pursue actions that violate the convention. That argument, however, rests on whether the United States can convincingly present itself as a persistent objector to UNCLOS provisions that reflect customary international law. Under international law, a persistent objector is “a State which persistently objects to a rule of customary international law during the formative stages of that rule will not be bound by it when it becomes established.”13

“UNCLOS in general is considered a reflection of customary international law,” Parlov said. “This is clear when it comes to shipping, but deep-sea mining is more complicated. In general terms, the obligation not to unilaterally launch deep-seep mining may be considered customary international law. However, the United States had a problem with Part XI when UNCLOS was being negotiated. This was the main reason why the 1994 Implementation Agreement was adopted—i.e., to bring the United States on board.”14

Despite the Implementation Agreement, the United States did not ratify UNCLOS, but it did sign the Implementation Agreement and participated in ISA as an observer. That complicates the United States’ potential identification as a persistent objector. “Scholars are divided on this issue. Some US scholars argue that the US is a persistent objector, while others would say that’s not the case,” Parlov noted.15

To qualify as a persistent objector, the United States would need to demonstrate that it has indeed “persistently” objected to the specific parts of customary international law it wishes to violate—in this case, the prohibition of unilateral decisions and the treatment of seabed resources in international waters as the common heritage of mankind. “Part XI has been conceptualized as an ‘objective regime,’ which, under an orthodox understanding of international law, reaches non-States Parties through CIL [Customary International Law]. The US understood this when it voted for the 1970 Declaration of Principles Governing the Area,” notes Eduardo Cavalcanti de Mello Filho of the Centre for International Law at the National University of Singapore.16 International lawyer Coalter Lathrop observes that the United States gave up its opposition to the items included in Part XI when it consented to the 1994 Implementation Agreement, with President Bill Clinton writing to the Senate that “the Agreement meets the objections the United States and other industrialized nations previously expressed to Part XI.”17 James Kraska of the US Naval War College, in contrast, argues that the United States is a persistent objector. He argues that “Part XI of UNCLOS form customary international law, the United States has been a persistent objector to them and therefore is not restricted as a matter of customary international law” and that “the US signature on the 1994 Implementing Agreement does not make it sufficiently clear that the United States intended to be bound by it, especially in light of action under DSHMRA.”18 (The Deep Seabed Hard Mineral Resources Act from 1980 was “an interim measure to allow the United States to proceed with seabed mining activities in areas beyond national jurisdiction (ABNJ) until an international regime was in place.”)19

In practice, the issue of whether the deep-sea mining order violates customary international law might matter little to US policymaking: The world’s most powerful nation has the liberty to act in ways not available to less powerful nations. In January 2026, Trump told New York Times reporters, “I don’t need international law.”20

The wider challenge arises around the implications for UNCLOS and the global maritime order. Although nations’ and companies’ commitment to UNCLOS and other maritime treaties has never been perfect, China has openly engaged in violations through its maritime harassment and construction of artificial islands in waters in the South China Sea that are either disputed or officially belong to other countries. So has Russia, through its systematic use and support of the shadow fleet, as have the Houthis through their attacks on merchant shipping. The US executive order risks contributing to an environment in which other nations launch activities that harm the maritime order.

The executive order and any licenses granted also raise questions for any companies that might become involved. Because the mining would be conducted by private companies rather than the US government, the fact that they would be mining outside UNCLOS places them in a novel and challenging position. Although they would be licensed by the US government, their operations would also involve businesses based in other countries, including suppliers, engineering firms, and insurers. It is unclear whether, and how, such companies would be willing or able to work with US-based deep-sea miners, as by doing so they would be violating their own countries’ laws. “When it comes to insurers, it’s unlikely that any of the well-known major names in underwriting deep ocean equipment would be willing to cover it,” noted Stephen Hall, a leading oceanographer and former chief executive officer (CEO) of the Society for Underwater Technology.21 “Projects in the EEZ, yes, but not in international waters. They may be willing to insure, for example, an autonomous underwater vehicle or an inspection system, but underwriting the actual mining equipment itself would be a tough, tough call. And that’s going to be the expensive kit.” Hall is currently part of an international undertaking mapping the seafloor.

On January 26, 2026, the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) announced that it will map the ocean bed near American Samoa to find minerals for industry. “What an exciting time to know that within the next few years, under this administration, there will be companies pulling deep sea nodules out of the ocean and bringing them to the US,” the New York Times quoted Erik Noble, a NOAA deputy assistant secretary who oversees deep sea minerals, as saying.22

Practical considerations

Over the years, the International Seabed Authority has granted exploration contracts to twenty-two companies and organizations from different countries.23 The licenses allow the entities to mine allocated areas in international waters, though not for commercial purposes. Commercial mining will only be allowed once the ISA’s member states reach agreement on whether, and under what conditions, such mining will be permitted. The exploration contracts naturally allow exploratory mining, and some of the companies with such contracts have succeeded in bringing nodules from the seafloor to the surface. They include the Metals Company (TMC), a Canada-based firm that has exploration contracts through the governments of Nauru, Tonga, and Kiribati—South Pacific nations whose surrounding waters are also home to significant amounts of polymetallic nodules.24 Days after the White House issued the executive order, TMC’s US arm applied for two US licenses.25 The company plans to mine more than 1.6 billion wet tonnes of polymetallic nodules from which it will extract nickel, copper, cobalt, and manganese.26 It has not announced plans to extract rare earths.

Commercial deep-sea mining might sound like a larger version of exploratory deep-sea mining, but it presents a host of additional complications. As discussed above, the first complication is the legal status of mining outside UNCLOS—including the challenges involved in getting insurance and equipment, as well as partnering with companies based in countries that adhere to UNCLOS. A perhaps even more significant hurdle involves the equipment transporting the nodules from the seabed to the surface. “The mining is easy,” Hall said. “The hard bit is getting the nodules you’ve mined from the bottom of the sea to the top.” That is because unlike oil and gas, which are extracted from the continental shelf (that is, at much shallower depths) and are soft, the deep-sea nodules are located at depths of several thousand meters and are, naturally, hard. “There have been a lot of people who’ve done small-scale experiments,” Hall explained. “Some firms have done really interesting work on using suction techniques to try to bring things up. Others have tried hoppers of various kinds or an elevator-type system where you’ve got underwater excavators loading up what almost looks like an underwater railway cart and then lifting the whole thing up on wires. There are different ways of doing it, but to do this on an industrial scale where trying to recover thousands of tonnes of material starts becoming quite tricky.”

The technique used, or envisaged, by most companies engaged in deep-sea mining exploration involves a massive pipe that transports the nodules. But, Hall warned, “transporting them to the surface is the point where you start running into complications. If, for example, your valve fails, tons of material suddenly fall back out of the pipe. You’re going to end up with a fallout plume. Then you’ve got to somehow scoop it all back up again and get it back into the pipe. It’s the same issue if you get breakages, cracks, and leaks in the pipeline. You’re going to have a lot of material loss. Depending on where the current is blowing at different depths, you could end up with a multi-directional fallout plume going into all points of the compass, depending on where the current is running at different depths of the water column.”

Such plumes of content being removed from the seabed and accidentally released in several other places would cause harm to the marine environment. In July 2025, NOAA, which is part of the US mining licensing regime, announced plans to accelerate the application process.27 It is unclear how NOAA will assess the risk of environmental harm, but any such accidents bring the risk of lawsuits. (BP’s Deepwater Horizon accident in 2010 resulted in hundreds of lawsuits.)28 “You won’t be able to state that any fallout is only going to go in one direction, because there might be a current going in completely the other direction a few thousand meters further up the water column,” Hall noted. “That means you might have to draw a big circle around the mining area and say ‘anywhere within this circle could potentially be impacted by the fallout from this mining activity.’ That opens you up to a lot of potential liabilities, a lot of litigation, a lot of insurance damages if anything goes wrong with your mining operation.”29

To reduce the risk of such leaks during commercial mining (which would, at hundreds of millions of tonnes, involve far greater quantities than does exploratory mining), the pipe would need to be extremely sturdy. This would add considerable expense. Mining taking place outside UNCLOS would also raise the issue of whether a manufacturer willing to make the pipe could be found.

Any company operating under a US licence, outside UNCLOS, would also face a challenge finding certified engineers and other experts. Such experts are certified by different professional bodies, which might be reluctant to certify an engineer or other expert involved in a project that violates UNCLOS.

Ships taking the mined nodules to port would face related complications. Because the mining would violate UNCLOS, the ships would need to be owned and flagged in the United States. They would, however, still need to call at ports, and ports in countries that have ratified UNCLOS would likely be unwilling to accept ships operating in violation of UNCLOS. “You find out that the ship needs to refuel,” Hall said. “Where does it take on its fuel? Where can it do a crew change? You’ll probably find that the only nation the mothership was able to safely sail to and return to would actually be the US, because everybody else would just turn around and say, ‘As far as we’re concerned, you’re operating in, contravention of UNCLOS and the ISA. We’re not willing to open our facilities to your vessel.’ Instead of paying for only enough fuel to run from the nearest available port, you’re having to load up fuel and crew for a voyage lasting weeks or even months.” Ports in countries such as India and China regularly receive shadow vessels—which violate maritime rules—but that is because these ports benefit from receiving the cargo carried by the vessels. Though a few countries with limited maritime activities might service vessels involved in US-licensed deep-sea mining, it is unlikely that any major nations would do so, as doing so would undermine ISA and thus disadvantage efforts in which they themselves are involved.

Potential outcomes

The legal challenges related to deep-sea mining would naturally vanish if and when the ISA’s member states reach an agreement that allows commercial mining to begin. That is unlikely to occur in the near future, as forty countries including Mexico, Brazil, and most of the European Union have called for a moratorium on commercial mining.30 These and other nations argue that far more research needs to be conducted into the potential implications of deep-sea mining on the marine ecosystem.

The technical challenges are also likely to remain. Many can be overcome, at considerable expense, especially if the ISA’s member states reach an agreement and mining in international waters becomes legal. Any operator would, however, need to weigh the expense involved in mining against the revenues the minerals could bring. That depends on what minerals the operator aimed to extract: copper, cobalt, nickel, and iron, which are relatively easy to extract but currently command low prices; or rare earths, which are extremely cumbersome and dirty to extract but command high prices and will likely become even more crucial to Western economies as China’s on-and-off ban on exports of them continues.31 To reduce their dependence on mining of both kinds of metals, from land and sea, countries including those in the European Union have also stepped up efforts to recycle metals currently in circulation.32 At the time of writing, TMC remains the only company that has submitted an application for a US license under the new executive order.

It seems the likely outcome of the executive order is, paradoxically, that it will result in little deep-sea mining but risks undermining the already precarious global maritime order.

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1    “China Currently Controls over 69% of Global Rare Earth Production,” Mining Technology, January 18, 2025, https://www.mining-technology.com/analyst-comment/china-global-rare-earth-production/.
2    Keith Bradsher, “China Bans Rare Earth Exports to Japan amid Tension,” New York Times, September 23, 2010, https://www.cnbc.com/2010/09/23/china-bans-rare-earth-exports-to-japan-amid-tension.html.
3    Michael Standaert, “China Wrestles with the Toxic Aftermath of Rare Earth Mining,” Yale Environment 360, July 2, 2019, https://e360.yale.edu/features/china-wrestles-with-the-toxic-aftermath-of-rare-earth-mining.
4    Gracelin Baskaran, “China’s New Rare Earth and Magnet Restrictions Threaten U.S. Defense Supply Chains,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, October 9, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/chinas-new-rare-earth-and-magnet-restrictions-threaten-us-defense-supply-chains.
5    “Unleashing America’s Offshore Critical Minerals and Resources,” White House, April 24, 2025, https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/04/unleashing-americas-offshore-critical-minerals-and-resources/.
6    Ibid.
7    Peter Hoskins and Laura Bicker, “China Tightens Export Rules for Crucial Rare Earths,” BBC, October 9, 2025, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/ckgzl0nwvd7o; “Trump Lowers Tariffs on China and Announces End to ‘Rare Earths Roadblock’ after Xi Meeting,” BBC, October 30, 2025, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/live/cd7ry3x0nvet.
8    “Polymetallic Nodules,” International Seabed Authority, June 2022, https://www.isa.org.jm/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/eng7.pdf.
9    “Deep-Ocean Polymetallic Nodules and Cobalt-Rich Ferromanganese Crusts in the Global Ocean: New Sources for Critical Needs,” US Geological Survey, April 21, 2022, https://www.usgs.gov/publications/deep-ocean-polymetallic-nodules-and-cobalt-rich-ferromanganese-crusts-global-ocean-new.
10    “United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea,” United Nations, 1994, Article 136, https://www.un.org/depts/los/convention_agreements/texts/unclos/unclos_e.pdf.
11    Ibid., Article 137.
12    Caitlin Keating-Bitonti, “U.S. Interest in Seabed Mining in Areas Beyond National Jurisdiction: Brief Background and Recent Developments,” Congressional Research Service, May 16, 2025, https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/IF12608#:~:text=International%20Seabed%20Authority%20(ISA)%2C%20an%20autonomous%20organization&text=The%20United%20States%20participates%20as%20an%20observer%20state%20in%20the%20ISA%20but.
13    Olufemi Elias, “Persistent Objector,” Oxford Public International Law, last updated April 2024, https://opil.ouplaw.com/display/10.1093/law:epil/9780199231690/law-9780199231690-e1455.
14    Interview with the author, October 27, 2025.
15    Interview with the author, October 27, 2025.
16    Eduardo Cavalcanti de Mello Filho, “May the United States Unilaterally Conduct or Regulate Activities in the Area According to International Law?” National University of Singapore, April 4, 2025, https://cil.nus.edu.sg/blogs/may-the-united-states-unilaterally-conduct-or-regulate-activities-in-the-area-according-to-international-law/.
17    Coalter Lathrop, “The Latest Trump Threat to International Law: Unilaterally Mining the Area,” EJIL:Talk!, May 6, 2025, https://www.ejiltalk.org/the-latest-trump-threat-to-international-law-unilaterally-mining-the-area/.
18    James Kraska, “The U.S. Executive Order on Seabed Mining Is Consistent with International Law,” International Law Studies 106 (2025), https://digital-commons.usnwc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3113&context=ils.
19    “U.S. Interest in Seabed Mining in Areas Beyond National Jurisdiction: Brief Background and Recent Developments,” Congressional Research Service, last updated December 30, 2025, https://www.congress.gov/crs_external_products/IF/HTML/IF12608.html.
20    David E. Sanger, et al., “Trump Lays Out a Vision of Power Restrained Only by ‘My Own Morality,”” New York Times, January 8, 2026, https://www.nytimes.com/2026/01/08/us/politics/trump-interview-power-morality.html.
21    Interview with the author, October 14, 2025.
22    Eric Niiler and Sachi Kitajima Mulkey, “A Shift for NOAA’s Surveys: From Science to Mining,” New York Times, January 27, 2026, https://www.nytimes.com/2026/01/27/climate/noaa-deep-sea-mining.html
23    “Exploration Contracts,” International Seabed Authority, last visited December 11, 2025, https://isa.org.jm/exploration-contracts/.
24    “The Metals Company Advances Deep-Sea Research Program to Unlock World’s Largest Known Source of Battery Metals,” Metals Company, September 28, 2021, https://investors.metals.co/news-releases/news-release-details/metals-company-advances-deep-sea-research-program-unlock-worlds/.
25    “World First: TMC USA Submits Application for Commercial Recovery of Deep-Sea Minerals in the High Seas under U.S. Seabed Mining Code,” Metals Company, April 29, 2025, https://investors.metals.co/news-releases/news-release-details/world-first-tmc-usa-submits-application-commercial-recovery-deep.
26    Ibid.
28    “US Deepwater Horizon Explosion and Oil Spill Lawsuits,” Business and Human Rights Centre, April 25, 2010, https://www.business-humanrights.org/en/latest-news/us-deepwater-horizon-explosion-oil-spill-lawsuits.
29    Interview with the author, October 13, 2025.
30    Momentum for a Moratorium, Deep Sea Conservation Coalition,
https://deep-sea-conservation.org/solutions/no-deep-sea-mining/momentum-for-a-moratorium/
31    Hoskins and Bicker, “China Tightens Export Rules for Crucial Rare Earths.”
32    Jonathan Josephs, “How Europe Is Vying for Rare Earth Independence from China,” BBC, August 6, 2025, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cm2zp6m4gy7o.

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A new Arctic strategy for Sweden https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/a-new-arctic-strategy-for-sweden/ Wed, 04 Feb 2026 21:56:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902551 Sweden has the largest Nordic economy, a defense budget double what it was in 2022 and set to grow more, and cross-party consensus behind the foreign policy shifts that led Stockholm to join NATO in 2024. The government can and should shift its approach in the High North to a singular focus on deterring Russia.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Stockholm’s Arctic strategy predates the full-scale invasion of Ukraine and Sweden’s accession to NATO.
  • An update that shifts the government’s focus in the North to the single goal of deterring Russian aggression is essential—and Sweden’s economy, politics, and defense industry are ready for it.
  • Sweden should ground its deterrence-by-denial approach in improved domestic military capabilities and integration with Nordic and EU partners.

The Swedish government is crafting a new Arctic strategy, updating its 2020 document of the same name and building on its 2024 National Security Strategy. This makes indubitable sense. The last five years have seen significant global developments, including a pandemic, Russia reinvading Ukraine, a European energy transition, increased great-power competition, and the rise of artificial intelligence, unmanned warfare, and other potentially disruptive technologies. The Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region was not immune to changes. Finland and Sweden joined NATO. The Arctic saw greater levels of military activity. The Arctic Council ceased having in-person meetings with Russia. Data showed that the Arctic was warming four times faster than the rest of the planet.1 Ice melt could lead to increased economic opportunities in northern latitudes but also potential environmental and cultural dislocation for northern inhabitants. Those developments suggest a need for a revised Arctic strategy.

In this issue brief, I explore the contours of a hypothetical Swedish Arctic strategy given today’s circumstances. What follows is a thought experiment on what would be a logically consistent strategy that achieves reasonable objectives given available means, while minimizing risks associated with the strategy. I begin by reviewing existing Swedish government priorities, the domestic constraints facing Sweden’s government, and Swedish capabilities. I then turn to an assessment of the global context as one might perceive it from Stockholm’s perspective. The strategy follows, with a discussion of a prioritized objective, strategic approaches to meet that objective, and how to minimize risks associated with those approaches.

Existing priorities, domestic politics, and Swedish capabilities

Protecting the Arctic is crucial to our national and to our collective security. For Sweden, the Arctic is an area where national and international interests intersect.
—Maria Malmer Stenergard, Sweden’s minister for foreign affairs2

Strategies do not exist in a vacuum. Absent a dramatic exogenous shock, we would expect any future Arctic strategy to be relatively consistent with preexisting policies. For example, Sweden has a long history of supporting the rule of law, which makes sense for a relatively small country seeking to insulate itself from the whims of more powerful neighbors and to enhance its own voice in international affairs. The most recent manifestations of that predilection include Sweden’s advocacy of an EU policy for the Arctic; Sweden’s support for Ukraine in its war against Russian aggression even at the expense of Sweden’s other foreign aid projects; and, in the Arctic context, the importance of the Arctic Council for Arctic governance.3 We would expect any Arctic strategy acceptable to government stakeholders to reinforce, or at least not undercut, those core initiatives.

This is particularly true for identified national interests. Sweden released a National Security Strategy (NSS) in 2024. The vital interests listed in the Swedish NSS fell naturally into three categories: security, which includes the protection of Sweden’s sovereignty, independence, freedom of action, and allied defense; a functional, resilient society; and support of Swedish values, including democracy, the rule of law, and the protection of rights. Limited interests listed in the NSS included a rules-based, democratic, connected, and united Europe and the United States, robust domestic safety, and multifaceted resiliency. I would not expect the new Arctic strategy to diverge substantially from this characterization.

Relative consistency is also reinforced by Sweden’s government structure. Sweden is a parliamentary democracy with a tradition of consensual policies promulgated by coalition governments. On the security front, Sweden uses periodic Defense Commissions to get cross-party buy-in for multiyear budgets and long-term defense initiatives. This helps insulate foreign and security policy from changes in government coalitions. (The same might not be true for domestic policy initiatives, which are often the battlefield over which elections are fought.) Cross-party agreement in the Riksdag, Sweden’s parliament, is yet another reason why we would expect relative continuity between documents across time, including the forthcoming Arctic strategy.

Capabilities also matter. Strategies with overly ambitious goals relative to available capabilities suffer from the classic ends-means mismatch. Adequate capabilities are vital for determining the feasibility and sustainability of any strategy. Sweden has respectable capabilities for a country of 10.6 million people but is by no means a European great power.

On the diplomatic front, Sweden’s foreign service has approximately 2,700 employees, of whom eight hundred are based in Stockholm while five hundred work abroad in Sweden’s one hundred or so international missions, supported by fourteen hundred local staff.4 Sweden has embassies in all Arctic nations as well as in Brussels. Sweden has a dedicated Arctic ambassador portfolio handling circumpolar issues. These capabilities give Sweden a voice in Arctic developments.

In terms of gathering and processing information, Sweden has three main intelligence entities. The Swedish Security Service (SAPO) employs roughly 1,500 people focused on counterterrorism and counterintelligence. The nine-hundred-person National Defense Radio Establishment (FRA) is focused on signals intelligence collection and has a very good reputation. Finally, the Military Intelligence and Security Service (MUST) collects and analyzes military and security information. In addition to these formal intelligence agencies, the nine-hundred-person Swedish Defense Research Agency (FOI) is a Swedish government resource capable of intelligence analysis, though that is not its sole purpose. Finally, Sweden is in the process of creating a new civilian foreign intelligence agency to complement and build upon existing intelligence capabilities.5

Sweden is expanding its relatively small military. The Swedes maintain a very capable air force, are modernizing their navy, and have a relatively robust defense industry (dominated by Saab and BAE Systems) whose growth is a government priority. They have created a new NSC system with a national security advisor, a new Civil Defense Ministry with authorities in emergency preparedness, and a reorganized defense ministry. The Swedish government has dramatically increased the defense budget, tripling it over the last seven years and doubling it within the last four.6 It has committed to meeting NATO’s defense spending goals of 3.5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) for direct spending and an additional 1.5 percent for infrastructure spending, as specified in the July 2025 NATO Summit communique. As part of that effort, the Swedish army will create two northern mechanized brigades, each with a motorized rifle battalion, and will also acquire up to four frigates for service beyond the Baltic Sea.7 Sweden has volunteered to lead NATO’s Forward Land Force in northern Finland. Sweden’s defense efforts are bolstered by comprehensive defense planning—called Total Defence—that includes roles for the Swedish population writ large and Sweden’s private sector in the event of war, as well as a renewed emphasis on societal resilience.

Sweden has the largest economy of the Nordic states. It has a low national debt and ranks high in competitiveness indexes.8 Sweden is a member of the EU, giving it access to the continental market. The economy is highly dependent on trade through the Baltic Sea. Sweden’s total imports and exports represent roughly $400 billion in economic activity, with Germany, Norway, and Denmark its largest trading partners.9 The Swedes fear depopulation and economic stagnation in their northern regions and have attempted to build a green northern economy to attract workers, with mixed success.10 The positives include the Esrange space launch facility and the LKAB iron ore mine, both outside Kiruna. The Northvolt battery initiative did not fare as well, filing for bankruptcy in early 2025. That said, Sweden has a reputation as a low-corruption, high-wealth, stable trading partner with an innovative economy.

The international context

For many years, the Arctic region was seen as a peaceful zone of cooperation. That era ended with Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Security policy now plays a greater role in Arctic affairs than it did before 2022. That is the main reason why the Swedish Government will present a new, updated Arctic strategy next spring.
—Maria Malmer Stenergard11

To have any chance of success, strategies must account for the current and future international context. Swedish foreign policy has been dominated by four large events. The first was the aftermath of Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine and annexation of Crimea. This created a sea change in Swedish rhetoric and policy toward Russia. No longer was Russia portrayed as a potential partner. Instead, successive Swedish governments recognized Russia as posing a significant threat to European stability and Swedish sovereignty. A recognition also emerged that conflict between NATO and Russia would spill into the Nordic-Baltic region and affect Sweden. In reaction to Russian aggression, Sweden would negotiate new defense partnership agreements with Finland, with all of Sweden’s Nordic neighbors, and with the United States; develop and participate in large-scale military exercises against possible Russian attack; reactivate its military conscription program; station a larger military force on Gotland island in the Baltic Sea; and begin a general rearmament program.

The second event was the Syrian refugee crisis of 2015 and 2016. Sweden took in more than 160,000 refugees in 2015 alone, equal to 1.6 percent of Sweden’s population. Swedes were overwhelmed by the sheer volume, leading the government to close the border with Denmark in 2016 and dramatically tighten asylum laws. The refugee situation and growing youth violence led to a crisis in Swedish governance. The influx undermined the left-leaning governing coalition’s popularity while support grew for the nationalist Sweden Democrats party. Prime Minister Stefan Lofven of the Social Democrats lost parliamentary confidence in late September 2018. The main political factions—the Red-Greens and the Alliance—then spent four months arguing about who should lead the government.12 Lofven’s Red-Green coalition eventually came out on top but would be replaced in 2022 by a conservative governing coalition led by Ulf Kristersson of the Moderate Party.13 Election issues centered around immigration, crime, and electricity prices. The important point was that cross-party unity on external security policy did not necessarily translate to consensus on domestic policy issues.

The third shock was Russia’s reinvasion of Ukraine in 2022. The Ukraine war focused Sweden’s security policy on the Baltic Sea and Russia’s threat to international order and international law. Government statements painted a grim picture, noting the Russian military threat in the Baltic Sea as well as the threat of Russian-backed gray zone activities.14 As discussed below, Sweden increased its defense spending in response and abandoned its nonaligned posture by joining NATO. The Arctic Council ceased formal meetings, though working groups continued without their Russian counterparts.

The fourth and final shock is recent changes in US foreign and security policy. Sweden, like the rest of the EU, was hit with steep US tariffs early in President Donald Trump’s second term.15 Soon after, a Pew global survey noted that 79 percent of Swedish respondents had an unfavorable view of the United States, a dramatic change from the 44-percent unfavorable view in 2024.16 On the security front, Sweden has been a steadfast supporter of Ukraine and does not share the Trump administration’s desire to end the war quickly if that comes at Ukraine’s expense.17 The Trump administration’s new National Security Strategy is a clear example of this transatlantic disconnect. It warned, “The Trump Administration finds itself at odds with European officials who hold unrealistic expectations for the war perched in unstable minority governments, many of which trample on basic principles of democracy to suppress opposition.”18 The US strategy noted that Europe should take “primary responsibility for its own defense,” with a target date of 2027 for doing so.19 Together, these initiatives signified that, from a US perspective, European nations including Sweden need to dramatically increase their focus on military security. That shook Europe. EU Defense Commissioner Andrius Kubilius exemplified the European reaction: “The question is whether we need to have some kind of additional security guarantees and institutional arrangements in order to be ready—in case Article 5 suddenly is not implemented.”20

Assumptions, objective, strategic approaches, and risks

With all this as background, what might a prudent Swedish Arctic strategy entail? It cannot veer too far from the priorities listed in the 2024 Swedish NSS or undermine any cross-party defense agreements in the Riksdag. It must be capable of being implemented with somewhat limited means and in a parliamentary election year. It needs to account for a revanchist, aggressive Russia and do so without significant US assistance. And it needs to be consistent with longstanding Swedish principles, including the rule of law, the critical nature of the EU, and the usefulness of forums like the Arctic Council.

Assumptions: Any strategy requires assumptions. A first assumption is that this is a short-term strategy for the next four years, rather than Sweden’s strategy in perpetuity. I assume that the strategy will focus on the European Arctic rather than the circumpolar Arctic, given Sweden’s limited means. As noted in the earlier context section, I assume regional officials realize that the Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region is a military operating environment with the potential for spillover from one part of the region to another. I assume that Russia will continue to represent a threat to regional peace and stability for the duration of the strategy, and that China is not a direct threat to Sweden’s economy or security—or more broadly, to regional governance by the European Arctic nations, at least for the next four years.21 I further assume that the United States will prioritize the Western Hemisphere and East Asia over Europe, consistent with its NSS. I assume that the EU will remain unified in the face of US tariffs. I further assume a continuation of the Russia-Ukraine war, and that Germany, France, the United Kingdom, Poland, and the Nordic and Baltic states will continue to support Ukraine. Finally, I assume that NATO faces an uncertain future given emerging US policies.22

Objective and approaches: The strategy’s overall objective is to deter Russian aggression in the European Arctic. Achieving that objective requires a deterrence-by-denial approach toward Russia and a persuasion and inducement approach toward European allies that are concerned about the Russian threat.

Deterrence by denial requires developing the capabilities to deny an adversary the ability to achieve its objectives and signal to the adversary that one has those capabilities. From a military security perspective, that will require Sweden to improve its unilateral defense capabilities, especially in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR), electronic warfare, air and drone defenses, distributed operations by small units, and unmanned systems, above levels in current plans. Sweden is taking steps in that direction, with the Riksdag borrowing $31 billion to fund increased defense spending and dramatically speeding up defense acquisition programs.23 According to Defense Minister Pål Jonson in October: “The Government is now taking steps to rapidly operationalize anti-drone capabilities and increase the availability of our combat aircraft. There is a significant need for new anti-drone capabilities, and we are shortening lead times by eight years. This will result in increased safety and security for the Swedish Armed Forces and for Sweden.”24

Unilateral capabilities are important signals to allies and adversaries alike, but they will be insufficient to deter a much larger adversary like Russia. Sweden must integrate more closely with its regional neighbors, particularly as a hedge against NATO’s uncertain future. Sweden should deepen its already excellent air force integration with Norway and Finland, and should consider adding Denmark to the mix. Sweden should consider proposing an explicit naval division of labor across the region, with Norway focused on the eastern Atlantic and Barents Sea, and Sweden and Germany focused on the Baltic Sea in joint operations that build on NATO’s Operation Eastern Sentry. Finland, Sweden, and Norway should consider dual-hatting the Forward Land Force in northern Finland as both a NATO command and a mini-multilateral force outside of NATO, and should expand it beyond a brigade size. In addition, the three countries should partner to diversify and standardize the rail lines connecting Finnish Lapland to Swedish Lapland and Norrbotten, and Norway’s Finnmark, Nordland, and Troms regions. To keep the US and Canadian militaries involved in the European Arctic, if only tangentially, Sweden should continue to support the Arctic Security Forces Roundtable and the Arctic Security Policy Roundtable. Finally, Sweden could take a larger role in efforts to integrate Total Defence and societal resilience both vertically within Sweden and horizontally across northern counties in Norway, Sweden, and Finland. This initiative would build on existing coordination efforts through more frequent exercises, first responder cross-training, and trilateral actions to protect critical infrastructure.25 Combined, these actions would signal to Russia that overt military or gray zone aggression in northern latitudes is doomed to fail.

These actions are not without costs and risks. A unilateral military buildup and increased multilateral operations and planning will require significant funds, likely above and beyond current budgets. The same holds true for improved rail infrastructure and multilateral operations. The stakes involved in the current moment, however, would seem to justify such additional expenditures. Moreover, these actions are consistent with current trends in terms of Sweden’s defense spending, focus on Total Defence, and need to keep trade routes open for continued economic viability.

In terms of risks, strategy is interactive. These actions could lead to a security dilemma in which Russia perceives Nordic defensive actions as offensive in nature and shifts its aggressive activities north. The counterargument, of course, is that Russia preys on weakness, so Swedish half measures would invite aggression, whereas a defensive buildup and visible societal resilience initiatives could forestall that aggression. Russia could respond by focusing its attention on a particular Nordic-Baltic-Arctic country, seeking to intimidate that target into inaction or neutrality. That risk can be countered with the strategy’s second line of effort.

Deterrence in the Nordic-Baltic-Arctic region can only succeed if allies signal their unified willingness to resist Russian aggression. Here, Sweden could position itself as a key interlocutor between the Nordic north and the rest of Europe through a combination of persuasion and inducements. The persuasive line of effort would see Sweden as a convening authority, facilitated by Sweden’s geographic location and its reputation for supporting multilateralism, international institutions like the EU and the Arctic Council, and the rule of law, as well as Sweden’s openness to non-Arctic countries playing a constructive role in the Arctic. It would also see Sweden taking a larger role in publicizing Russian gray zone activities and threats to the EU project. Sweden’s diplomatic presence across the Arctic and a willingness to declassify SAPO, FRA, and MUST intelligence analyses could facilitate regional coordination and broad-based public support for such coordination. Finally, the persuasive approach would see Sweden taking a leadership role in deepening classified intelligence sharing with likeminded governments.

Inducements could be used to further unify Western signals aimed at Russia. This might include larger, long-term contracts to Nordic defense industries to speed up procurement. This would improve Nordic interoperability and military integration, which sends a powerful signal to any aggressor.26 Inducements could include accelerating the construction of the LKAB critical mineral refining facility in Luleå and then offering refined products at below-market rates to countries taking an active role in deterrence-by-denial efforts in the north. Sweden could also offer to work with Norway on space launch and satellite management, as partners rather than competitors.

There are, of course, costs and risks for persuasion and inducements. This strategy calls on Sweden to focus more on the European theater and perhaps less on global issues. That comes as an opportunity cost and could potentially weaken Sweden’s reputation as a provider of international aid. Such a shift is justified, however, when we look at the Swedish NSS’s prioritization of interests. Inducements always cost money. Larger defense contracts, building a critical minerals processing facility, and expanding space launch are no exceptions. Again, the needs of the moment arguably necessitate such expenditures. Consensus already exists in the Riksdag to suspend debt limits and increase defense spending by 18 percent in 2026.27 Convening an off-cycle Defense Commission could provide additional cross-party support to sustain these initiatives. Moreover, Sweden is in a strong debt and fiscal situation, giving it the leeway to increase government outlays as recommended here.28 All this suggests that Sweden’s Arctic strategy could advocate successfully for greater government expenditures, even in an election year.

The largest risk in this portion of the strategy involves trust; trust that Nordic partners will be there for one another in a crisis, will use shared information responsibly, and will not take advantage of each other for short-term gain. Today’s threat environment and preexisting cultural and economic ties across the Nordic region should minimize that risk.

Conclusion

The last five years have witnessed dramatic changes to Sweden’s circumstances. The world suffered a pandemic. Russia is nakedly aggressive, both militarily in Ukraine and via gray zone actions across Europe. Sanctions against Russian energy forced Europe to change its energy portfolio. Drones, electronic warfare, and artificial intelligence have changed the character of war. The United States has new foreign policy priorities. And the Arctic is warming much faster than expected.

All this necessitates a new Swedish Arctic strategy. The notional strategy discussed above is heavily weighted toward security, which I believe is appropriate given today’s circumstances. Its goal is to deter Russian aggression in the European Arctic, which it does via two strategic approaches. The theory here is that urgently creating the needed capabilities for a deterrence-by-denial approach, and signaling the Nordic states’ willingness to resist Russian aggression, will lead Russia to reconsider its aggressive intentions. Sweden can improve that willingness through a series of persuasive and inducement actions aimed at its regional partners. The added benefit of these actions is that they prepare Sweden for war should deterrence fail. The strategy is not without costs and risks. Costs are consistent with current Swedish priorities and are bearable given Sweden’s economic power and resources and its tradition of cross-party consensus on security policy. The risks are arguably better, and certainly no worse, than doing nothing.

The time is ripe for a new Swedish Arctic strategy. The ideas put forward here are one possible way of crafting such a document.

About the author

David Auerswald is a nonresident senior fellow at the Transatlantic Security Initiative in the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. He is also professor of security studies at the US National War College in Washington, DC. 

The views expressed here are the author’s own and not those of the National Defense University or any other US government entity.

Acknowledgements

This issue brief was made possible by support from the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Atlantic Council maintains a strict intellectual independence policy for all its projects and publications. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects. 

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1    “Arctic Report Card: Update for 2025,” National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, 2025, https://arctic.noaa.gov/report-card/report-card-2025/.
2    “Speech by Minister for Foreign Affairs Maria Malmr Stenergard during Her Visit to the Swedish Defence University,” Government Offices of Sweden, December 8, 2025, https://www.government.se/speeches/2025/12/speech-given-by-minister-for-foreign-affairs-maria-malmer-stenergard-during-her-visit-to-the-swedish-defence-university-on-8-december/.
3    Simon Johnson, “Sweden to Cut Development Aid to Five Countries, Divert Money to Ukraine,” Reuters, December 5, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/sweden-cut-development-aid-five-countries-divert-money-ukraine-2025-12-05/.
4    For comparison purposes, that is roughly 1/28 the size of the US State Department, for a country that is 1/33 the size of the United States.
5    “New Civilian Foreign Intelligence Agency Planned for 2027,” Sweden Herald, October 27, 2025, https://swedenherald.com/article/new-civilian-foreign-intelligence-agency-planned-for-2027.
6    Remarks by Defense Minister Pål Jonson at the Swedish Embassy in Washington, December 4, 2025; Tom Barton and Andrew MacDonald, “Sweden’s Government Proposes Further Defence Spending Growth,” Janes Defense Weekly, September 24, 2025, https://customer.janes.com/display/BSP_93761-JDW.
7    Atle Staalesen, “Sweden Beefs Up Defence Forces in the North,” Barents Observer, October 29, 2024, https://www.thebarentsobserver.com/security/sweden-beefs-up-defence-forces-in-the-north/419631.
8    “The Swedish Economy,” Government of Sweden, June 19, 2025, https://sweden.se/work-business/business-in-sweden/the-swedish-economy.
10    Richard Milne, “Can Sweden Deliver Its Much-Hyped Green Energy Boom?” Financial Times, August 13, 2024, https://www.ft.com/content/c5031202-a458-4118-a02a-93870e32b065.
11    “Speech by Minister for Foreign Affairs Maria Malmr Stenergard during Her Visit to the Swedish Defence University.”
12    The deadlock ended when the center-right Liberal Party and Centre Party broke with other Alliance members and supported Lofven’s Red-Green coalition instead of joining with the Sweden Democrats to form a conservative majority government. The second Lofven cabinet would govern Sweden through 2021.
13    The coalition included the Christian Democrats and Liberal Party. The far-right Sweden Democrats supported the governing coalition, though they were not in the government per se. For a detailed discussion of the election, see: Nicholas Aylott and Niklas Bolin, “A New Right: The Swedish Parliamentary Election of 2022,” West European Politics 46, 5 (2023), 1049–1062, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/01402382.2022.2156199.
14    Contrast that with Finland’s latest Arctic policy, which suggests that Russia is operating defensively, at least in the Arctic.
15    Swedish Finance Minister Elisabeth Svantesson was quoted as saying, “We don’t know whether tariffs will end, but the uncertainty and the unpredictability—that hurts our economy.” Quoted in: Holly Ellyatt, “Sweden Is Feeling the Heat from Trump Tariffs—and There’s More to Come,” CNBC, June 6, 2025, https://www.cnbc.com/2025/06/06/sweden-feeling-the-heat-from-trump-tariffs-and-theres-more-to-come.html.
16    Richard Wike, et al., “Views of the United States,” Pew Research Center, June 11, 2025, https://pewrsr.ch/4/Rc3M7. The July 28, 2025, US-EU trade agreement lowered tariff rates somewhat but left in place a 15-percent tariff on most EU goods. For an analysis, see: “From Robotics to Timber, New US Tariff Risks for Swedish Firms,” Business Sweden, October 2, 2025, https://www.business-sweden.com/insights/blogs/us-trade-policy-shifts/from-robotics-to-timber-new-us-tariff-risks-for-swedish-firms/.
17    For Sweden’s position on Ukraine, see: “Sweden’s Support to Ukraine,” Government Offices of Sweden, last visited January 16, 2026, https://www.government.se/government-policy/swedens-support-to-ukraine/. For Sweden’s position on European aid to Ukraine, see: Nicholas Vinocur, “Nordic Countries Paying Most for Ukraine ‘Not Sustainable,’ Swedish Foreign Minister Says,” Politico, November 20, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/nordic-countries-ukraine-aid-sweden-foreign-minister-maria-malmer-stenergard/. The Trump administration’s twenty-eight-point plan to end the Ukraine war, announced in November, appeared to favor Russia’s position at the expense of Ukrainian equities. See: Gram Slattery and Erin Banco, “US Peace Plan for Ukraine Drew from Russian Document, Sources Say,” Reuters, November 26, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/us-peace-plan-ukraine-drew-russian-document-sources-say-2025-11-26/.
18    “National Security Strategy of the United States of America,” White House, November 2025, 26, https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/2025-National-Security-Strategy.pdf.
19    Ibid., 27; Gram Slattery and Humeyra Pamuk, “US Sets 2027 Deadline for Europe-led NATO Defense, Officials Say,” Reuters, December 6, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/us-sets-2027-deadline-europe-led-nato-defense-officials-say-2025-12-05/.
20    Nicholas Vinocur, et al., “Trump’s Attacks Force Europe to Speed Up Post-America Defense Plans,” Politico, December 10, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/donald-trump-nato-policy-defense-plans-europe-america/.
21    This is a marked change from 2019 but consistent with recent public statements. On the former, see: Jojje Olsson, “China Tries to Put Sweden on Ice,” Diplomat, December 30, 2019, https://thediplomat.com/2019/12/china-tries-to-put-sweden-on-ice/.
22    Alexander Burns, “Trump Thrashes European Leaders in Wide-Ranging Interview: ‘I Think They’re Weak,’” Politico, December 9, 2025, https://www.politico.com/news/2025/12/09/trump-dasha-burns-interview-europe-immigration-ukraine-00682016. Members of Congress have introduced resolutions to withdraw from NATO. See: “Rep. Massie Introduces Bill to Remove the United States from NATO,” Office of Congressman Thomas Massie, press release, December 9, 2025, https://massie.house.gov/news/documentsingle.aspx?DocumentID=395782; “Lee Introduces Withdrawal from NATO,” Office of Senator Mike Lee, June 25, 2025, https://www.lee.senate.gov/2025/6/lee-introduces-withdrawal-from-nato.
23    Simon Johnson, “Sweden Parliament Backs $31 Billion Borrowing to Boost Defence,” Reuters, June 19, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/finance/sweden-parliament-backs-31-bln-borrowing-boost-defence-2025-06-19/; “Sweden to Boost Air Defence with $524m Investment,” Airforce Technology, October 10, 2025, https://www.airforce-technology.com/news/sweden-air-defence-investment/#:~:text=The%20Swedish%20Government%20has%20allocated,39%20Gripen%20combat%20air%20system.
24    Pål Jonson, “More than SEK 5 Billion for Increased Anti-Drone Capabilities and Gripen Capabilities,” Government of Sweden, press release, October 10, 2025, https://www.government.se/press-releases/2025/10/more-than-sek-5-billion-for-increased-anti-drone-capabilities-and-gripen-capabilities/#:~:text=The%20Government%20is%20investing%20more,for%20Public%20Administration%20Erik%20Slottner.
25    Astir Edvardsen, “Norway, Finland, and Sweden: Discussing New Cooperation Structure in the High North,” High North News, February 5, 2025, https://www.highnorthnews.com/en/norway-finland-and-sweden-discussing-new-cooperation-structure-high-north.
26    It could also boost the value of the Swedish krona. See: Naomi Tajitsu and Anya Andrianova, “Swedish Krona’s Best Rally in Decades Looks Set to Run in 2026,” Bloomberg, December 15, 2025, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2025-12-15/swedish-krona-s-best-rally-in-decades-looks-set-to-run-in-2026.
27    Johnson, “Sweden Parliament Backs $31 Billion Borrowing to Boost Defence”; Rameen Siddiqui, “Sweden Boosts Defense Spending to 2.8% of GDP, Nearing NATO Target,” Modern Diplomacy, September 15, 2025, https://moderndiplomacy.eu/2025/09/15/sweden-boosts-defense-spending-to-2-8-of-gdp-nearing-nato-target/; “Sweden to Boost Air Defence with $524m Investment.”
28    Tajitsu and Andrianova, “Swedish Krona’s Best Rally in Decades Looks Set to Run in 2026”; “Sweden to Boost Air Defence with $524m Investment.”

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Sweden’s role in countering hybrid threats in the Baltic Sea region https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/nordic-baltic-security-in-a-sea-of-allies-swedens-role-in-countering-hybrid-threats-in-the-baltic-sea-region/ Wed, 04 Feb 2026 21:52:49 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902552 The accession of Sweden to NATO brought the majority of the Baltic Sea under alliance control. Despite NATO's conventional superiority in the region, Russia continues to probe the Alliance's resolve with actions below the threshold of armed conflict. What advantages can NATO’s newest members offer the Alliance as it faces this aggression?

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Bottom lines up front

  • Despite NATO’s conventional superiority in the Baltic Sea region, the Alliance faces a persistent deterrence gap in the sub-threshold domain.
  • Russia exploits this gap by operating below the threshold of armed conflict, leveraging ambiguity, attribution challenges, and legal constraints.
  • Sweden’s civil-military integration, operational capabilities, and regional alignment position it as a key actor for converting NATO’s geostrategic advantages into effective sub-threshold deterrence.

Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO in 2024 has completed the Alliance’s northern arc, effectively transforming the Baltic Sea into what is often described as an “allied lake.” Yet the geostrategic gains of the Alliance have not eliminated the region’s exposure to sub-threshold aggression, especially against critical infrastructure in the energy, data, communications, and transportation sectors. As Russia continues to probe NATO’s resolve with hostile actions calibrated to stay below the threshold of armed conflict, the core challenge for Sweden—as a Baltic littoral state and a NATO member—and for the Alliance more broadly is to extend deterrence and defense to the sub-threshold domain. Failing to close this gap risks signaling political hesitation to Russia, which, in turn, might increase the likelihood that hybrid pressure escalates into a conventional conflict.

Geostrategic shifts after recent NATO enlargement

Sweden and Finland’s accession to NATO closed the long-standing strategic gap in the Baltic Sea region. With nearly the entire northern coastline—from Norway to the Baltic states—now within NATO’s defense perimeter, only Russia’s Gulf of Finland coastline and the Kaliningrad exclave remain outside of the Alliance’s territory. This shift significantly strengthens NATO’s ability to reinforce the Baltic states and secure vital lines of communication in the entire region. Central to this new posture is Sweden’s Gotland island, whose location at the geographic center of the Baltic Sea gives NATO a decisive position from which to influence regional air and maritime movement and to counter Russia’s anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities, preventing the eastern Baltic from being sealed off militarily.

These strategic gains extend westward to the Danish Straits, the critical maritime chokepoints linking the Baltic and North Seas. With Sweden’s accession, NATO now controls both sides of these passages, enhancing the Alliance’s freedom of maneuver and safeguarding naval reinforcement routes. This consolidated control simultaneously restricts the operational flexibility of Russia’s Baltic Fleet, reinforcing NATO’s dominance across the broader Baltic maritime space.

Sub-threshold aggression in the Baltic Sea region

These geostrategic shifts in the Nordic-Baltic security map favor NATO and were met with an asymmetric response from Russia. Hesitant to use conventional military power against the enlarged Alliance, yet willing to test NATO’s readiness and political cohesion, Russia adapted to operate within the “allied lake” by employing covert hybrid tactics that exploit sub-threshold seams in NATO’s deterrence and defense posture. Russia’s goal is to relativize and downplay the Alliance’s strategic advantage in the Baltic Sea region. Russia bets that its strategy of persistent sub-threshold pressure can convince the Nordic-Baltic societies that NATO is weak, unready, and unwilling to defend its member states, while signaling that Russia can retain the initiative within the so-called “NATO lake.”

Russia’s hybrid toolkit includes, but is not limited to, sabotage against undersea energy, data, and telecommunications cables; recurrent airspace violations using military jets, drones, and meteorological balloons; and massive disruptions to civilian aviation through Global Positioning System (GPS) jamming and spoofing. Russia’s hybrid attacks are designed to exploit the characteristics of the Baltic Sea and its surroundings as a densely networked area, with vital infrastructure such as pipelines, cables, liquified natural gas terminals, ports, and airports connecting the littoral states to form an integrated energy, communications, transportation, and trade hub.

As the sub-threshold contest formally unfolds in a peacetime setting where traditional military superiority offers limited deterrent value, NATO’s geostrategic advantages resulting from the recent enlargement do not seamlessly translate into operational leverage against Russia’s hybrid strategy in the Baltic Sea region.

The Alliance has recognized the problem and has taken steps to improve information sharing, coordination, and situational awareness. This is demonstrated by the recent launch of the Baltic Sentry maritime and Eastern Sentry multi-domain activities, the creation of a Critical Undersea Infrastructure Network, and the establishment of a Maritime Centre for the Security of Critical Undersea Infrastructure within NATO’s Maritime Command in Northwood, United Kingdom. Despite progress, NATO still lacks a comprehensive sub-threshold deterrence and defense architecture that would enable swift responses to hybrid attacks and also serve to deter future disruptions.

Challenges with sub-threshold aggression

Sub-threshold attacks are designed to blur the lines between peacetime incidents and deliberate hostile actions, complicating the ability of NATO and littoral states to calibrate their responses. It is a combination of structural, legal, political, and technical constraints that create the gray zones that Russia exploits.

Sabotage of critical infrastructure in the Baltic Sea almost always occurs in environments where determining responsibility is slow, uncertain, and highly contestable. Underwater pipelines and data cables lie in complex maritime traffic zones where accidental damage can look nearly identical to deliberate interference, making attribution analysis lengthy and often inconclusive. Russia also relies on commercial vessels and proxy actors—mainly from its shadow fleet—to launch hybrid operations, as seen recently in sabotage incidents against undersea energy infrastructure, and as suspected in some cases of drone sightings near European airports.

The timing, political context, and type of attacks clearly point to Russia as the mastermind behind them. But because Moscow deliberately sustains this activity below the threshold of open conflict, allies lack the definitive evidence and legal grounding required for a conventional collective response. This creates a cycle of operational hesitation in which Western governments know who is responsible but cannot act decisively without risking escalation, undermining international law, or generating political divisions among NATO capitals. This ambiguity is precisely what Russia seeks to exploit.

Much of the critical infrastructure that has been targeted by sabotage includes undersea pipelines and cables that lie in international waters or exclusive economic zones (EEZ), where states have limited enforcement authority and ambiguous rights to interdict suspicious vessels. Russia conducts hybrid attacks through civilian-flagged or dual-use vessels, exploiting legal regimes that protect freedom of navigation under the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and constrain states from boarding or detaining ships without incontrovertible evidence. Despite these legal constraints, Finland has set a significant precedent by boarding the Cook Islands-flagged tanker Eagle S, which had damaged the Estlink 2 power cable connecting Estonia and Finland. Although this did not directly target Russia as the mastermind behind the attack, it at least had ramifications for the proxies executing its plans.

Furthermore, there is an acute issue with multi-actor and inter-agency coordination, which is crucial for countering hybrid threats. In addition to running through several EEZs and international waters, resulting in a single hybrid attack affecting several countries, critical infrastructure is often civilian and privately owned, further expanding the number of actors to consult in the event of an attack. As armed forces, coast guards, intelligence agencies, and private operators act under different mandates, gaps emerge in who can respond, when, and under what legal justification.

Finally, there is a significant technological challenge. Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine has accelerated its ability to combine inexpensive technologies—unmanned systems, electronic warfare tools, and simple disruptive devices—with covert tactics to generate asymmetric, high-cost effects for Baltic Sea littoral states. Europe is developing cost-effective countermeasures, but these capabilities still lack scale and, more importantly, the defense-industrial and governmental alignment needed to drive rapid operational innovation. Only by testing new technologies early and repeatedly in realistic operating environments can innovators adapt to a fast-evolving threat landscape and stay ahead of Russian tactics rather than merely reacting to them. At the same time, European critical infrastructure often relies on bespoke, complex systems that are difficult to repair quickly and frequently lack redundancy or standardized backup capabilities, making them especially vulnerable to sabotage.

Sweden’s edge in countering hybrid threats

As NATO adapts to this nontraditional security environment, Sweden offers several unique advantages that position it at the center of the Alliance’s hybrid deterrence and defense architecture. While Sweden’s geography provides strategic depth and operational access to allied armed forces that would greatly benefit the Alliance in wartime, it is Sweden’s institutional, societal, and technological foundations that give it leverage in shaping an effective allied response to hybrid threats evolving in the gray zone between war and peace.

First, Sweden’s deeply institutionalized model of civil-military integration, underpinned by its Total Defence concept, offers NATO a framework for improving cross-sectoral, multi-actor coordination in response to hybrid threats. Through this concept, Sweden integrates its armed forces, government agencies, civilian infrastructure operators, municipalities, private companies, and the population into a single national preparedness system. This is precisely the type of model NATO now needs for the sub-threshold domain, in which deterrence hinges on multi-actor inputs for better situational awareness and cross-domain coordination on responses.

Second, Sweden’s advanced, technologically sophisticated armed forces are well designed to operate effectively in environments most prone to hybrid pressure. The Swedish Navy’s shallow-water expertise and underwater domain awareness platforms are uniquely adapted to the Baltic Sea’s complex environment, making Sweden one of NATO’s most capable members for monitoring seabed infrastructure and detecting anomalous maritime activity. Similarly, the Swedish Air Force—with its advanced Gripen fleet, dispersed basing model, surveillance systems, and deep interoperability with other Nordic nations—provides NATO with a regionally integrated situational awareness model that can identify anomalies early and shorten the decision window for response.

Beyond operational capabilities, Sweden’s well-established defense industry and research ecosystem have the potential to give the Alliance a technological advantage in sub-threshold competition. From innovations in integrated surveillance systems to advanced unmanned platforms and cutting-edge electronic warfare solutions, Sweden brings industrial depth and innovation capacity that can directly support NATO’s emerging initiatives on seabed security, autonomous systems, and contested electromagnetic environments.

Third, Sweden’s regional integration with other Nordic and Baltic states creates a multiplier effect for sub-threshold deterrence and defense. Sweden participates in the Nordic Defense Cooperation (NORDEFCO) format, the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF), the Nordic-Baltic Eight (NB8) group, and numerous trilateral and bilateral arrangements with Finland, Norway, Denmark, and the Baltic states. These formats enable intelligence sharing, coordinated crisis procedure, surveillance, and cross-border military support. The combined effect of these formats is a resilient, interoperable, and politically agile security ecosystem in which hybrid aggression against one state is more likely to be detected, shared, interpreted correctly, and met with a coordinated response.

Finally, Sweden’s political credibility and strategic culture give it influence within NATO’s internal debates on how to deter hybrid threats effectively. Sweden has long prioritized resilience, whole-of-society readiness, and the defense of critical infrastructure as core pillars of national security. As NATO strives to articulate clearer thresholds for hybrid aggression and to improve coordination between civilian and military domains, Sweden can help the Alliance integrate resilience, societal endurance, infrastructure protection, and rapid attribution mechanisms into its broader deterrence and defense model.

Steps forward for Sweden and NATO

As hybrid aggression becomes an increasingly central feature of Russia’s strategy in the Baltic Sea region, Sweden and NATO must adopt a forward-leaning posture that closes the current gaps between NATO’s geostrategic advantages and its sub-threshold operational vulnerabilities. In this area, Sweden and NATO should pursue a dual-track approach: strengthening the capacity to respond rapidly and effectively to hybrid attacks when they occur, while building a credible, Alliance-wide deterrent that raises the political and operational costs of sub-threshold aggression before it occurs. The following recommendations outline priorities for Sweden and NATO as they consolidate an effective hybrid deterrence and defense architecture in the Baltic Sea region.

Measures to strengthen the responses to hybrid attacks

  1. Increase pressure on Russia’s shadow fleet.

    Sweden should work with the European Union (EU) and regional groups to expand the list of sanctioned shadow fleet vessels, blocking their access to services and ports. Sweden, along with other Baltic littoral states, should argue that vessels that are improperly insured or flying under false flags do not have the right of free navigation under UNCLOS. Such vessels can be denied passage near critical infrastructure sites and can be boarded for inspections.
  2. Create a Nordic-Baltic interagency hybrid-attribution cell.

    Sweden could lead efforts to fuse intelligence, maritime surveillance, cyber forensics, and private-sector reporting on suspicious activities close to critical infrastructure sites. The goal is to shorten the time between an incident and a coordinated response. This cell should promote a more flexible interpretation of attribution: when identifying the ultimate chain of command behind an attack is impossible within relevant timelines, NATO and the EU should adopt the principle that proxies can be targeted with diplomatic, legal, or economic consequences. This would help erode the network of intermediaries willing to take risks on behalf of state actors.
  3. Apply Ukraine’s lessons on operational innovation.

    Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine shows that rapid integration of new technologies can shift an adversary’s cost-benefit calculus. Sweden and NATO should establish mechanisms, such as testing corridors along the Baltic littoral, to accelerate the deployment of unmanned systems, counter-UAS (unmanned aerial system) solutions, distributed sensors, and electronic warfare tools. The keys are modularity, adaptability, and cost-effectiveness, rather than high-end technological excellence.
  4. Enhance redundancy and standardization of critical infrastructure.

    Sweden should advocate within the EU for standardized infrastructure, backup systems, and repair capabilities. Europe’s infrastructure is interconnected but technologically fragmented. The EU should establish a standing capability to conduct urgent repairs after sabotage against critical infrastructure. This would shorten response time, reducing Russia’s ability to generate lasting effects through low-cost attacks. Harmonizing standards and repair protocols could significantly reduce downtime and prevent Russia from exploiting single points of failure.
  5. Expand joint situational awareness and incident response exercises.

    Sweden can lead recurring exercises focused on hybrid scenarios such as cable failures, GPS interference, and anomalous vessel activity. Regular rehearsals of multi-agency cooperation improve legal coherence, decision speed, and interagency coordination.

Measures to strengthen deterrence against further sub-threshold aggression

  1. Operationalize NATO’s 1.5 percent resilience spending pillar.

    NATO should operationalize the new 1.5 percent resilience spending pillar, agreed to during the 2025 The Hague NATO Summit, to build a durable Alliance-wide architecture for sub-threshold defense. NATO should define which projects qualify, how performance should be measured, and which outcomes at the regional and Alliance levels are required for sub-threshold deterrence and defense architecture to merge into the broader NATO defense and capability planning process.
  2. Support innovation among Baltic-littoral defense tech companies.

    Regional companies understand the operational environment better than global contractors. Sweden and NATO should streamline procurement processes and enable rapid field testing, replicating successful Ukrainian models. This would keep NATO ahead of Russian adaptation cycles.
  3. Impose coordinated consequences on hybrid proxies.

    Deterrence in the gray zone requires clear, predictable penalties. NATO members should agree that hybrid attacks—whether carried out by Russian state vessels, intelligence operators, or commercial proxies—will trigger coordinated diplomatic expulsions, maritime inspections, targeted sanctions, or legal action against the companies enabling malign activity.
  4. Clarify NATO’s hybrid thresholds.

    Sweden should advocate for clearer definitions of hostile hybrid acts requiring collective action. Thresholds should consider intent, pattern, and cumulative destabilization, rather than rigid criteria that Russia could exploit.
  5. Deepen integration with Nordic-Baltic frameworks.

    Integration with Nordic and Baltic response frameworks should be deepened. Sweden should leverage NORDEFCO, JEF, and NB8 to build habitual coordination on detection, strategic communications, and consequence management. More coherent regional messaging and synchronized decision-making will increase the credibility of deterrence and limit Russia’s opportunities to isolate or pressure individual states.

Toward a Nordic-Baltic sub-threshold deterrence architecture

The strategic task now facing Sweden and NATO is to convert geostrategic advantage in the Baltic Sea region into operational resilience in the sub-threshold domain. Hybrid threats will remain Russia’s preferred tool in the region for as long as they continue to produce political hesitation and asymmetric effects. Sweden’s accession to NATO offers an opportunity to close this gap by strengthening rapid-response mechanisms and shaping a credible, collective deterrence framework for the sub-threshold domain. By driving operational innovation, improving attribution processes, hardening critical infrastructure, and enabling coordinated regional action, Sweden can help ensure that hybrid aggression in the Baltic Sea produces not operational indecision, but strategic backlash.

About the author

Justina Budginaite-Froehly is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Europe Center and Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. Her professional focus is on security and defense-related issues, including defense industrial developments, military mobility, and energy security in Europe.

Acknowledgments

This issue brief was made possible by support from the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Atlantic Council maintains a strict intellectual independence policy for all its projects and publications. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects.

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Local and community-driven solutions for development in fragile states https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/local-and-community-driven-solutions-for-development-in-fragile-states/ Wed, 04 Feb 2026 17:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=902085 This collaborative paper examines community-driven approaches to development from three unique perspectives and highlights the importance of putting local agency at the center of international development work.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Development and democracy efforts are more sustainable and legitimate when communities set priorities and lead design and implementation, rather than relying on donor-driven, technocratic models.
  • Community actors—including civil society groups and faith-based organizations—bring unique trust, contextual knowledge, and long-term presence that external actors cannot replicate.
  • The paper calls for transferring decision-making authority to local actors, investing in mutual capacity-building, and prioritizing participatory, long-term partnerships over short project cycles.

table of contents

Executive summary

Traditional models of development and democracy-promotion, largely designed and driven by international donors and external actors, have often failed to deliver sustainable and meaningful outcomes. Overly technocratic, externally imposed approaches tend to overlook local realities, sidelining the voices, knowledge, and agency of the communities most affected. As a result, reforms remain fragile, trust and legitimacy erode, and cycles of dependency and disillusionment persist.

Empowering local actors to define their own priorities, shape strategies, and lead implementation not only improves the relevance and sustainability of interventions but also strengthens legitimacy, social cohesion, and resilience. This report is intended for donors, policymakers, and development practitioners seeking to enhance the impact, credibility, and sustainability of international democracy and development assistance. It is organized around three complementary essays, each illustrating a different dimension of the power and potential of localization.

The first essay focuses on community-led democracy and governance reforms, showing how local ownership is essential for effective human rights and governance programming. Drawing on examples from fragile states such as Armenia, Sudan, and Kosovo, it highlights the importance of participatory, decentralized processes that build citizen trust and government responsiveness, while navigating complex political and operational challenges. The second essay explores the vital role of faith-based organizations (FBOs) as trusted and embedded local actors. These organizations and their leaders bring profound moral authority, deep contextual insight, and a long-term presence that many secular actors cannot match. Through case studies from West Africa, Haiti, and beyond, it demonstrates how faith-based actors foster community trust, culturally adapt programming, and sustain development efforts through crises and recovery. The third essay analyzes failures of externally imposed reforms in fragile, conflict-affected contexts, with a particular focus on the Democratic Republic of Congo. It underscores the necessity of adaptive, inclusive, and locally-negotiated approaches to creating sustainable economic opportunity—models that reject “one-size-fits-all” solutions and center local agency.

Taken together, key lessons emerge that cut across contexts and sectors: Trust and legitimacy are deeply local phenomena; standardized, donor-driven models frequently clash with local realities and risk elite capture; and the sustained presence of local actors through cycles of crisis and recovery ensures continuity and adaptive learning beyond short-term donor funding. Moreover, genuine participation demands more than consultation—it requires authentic power sharing and co-creation.

Based on this collective evidence, the report recommends that donors and development practitioners decisively shift decision-making power to local actors, invest in mutual capacity building that honors local expertise, foster participatory processes grounded in dialogue and accountability, and build domestic constituencies that support international democracy and development aid grounded in shared values.

Supporting this type of local ownership of decisions and accountability is not only a matter of operational effectiveness but also a moral and strategic necessity. Local actors bring irreplaceable trust, knowledge, and resilience to development and governance reforms. Donors, policymakers, and development practitioners must move from controlling roles to enabling ones, redefining success in terms of outcomes that are genuinely rooted in and sustained by the communities themselves. Embracing this locally-led, participatory paradigm offers the best chance to break the cycle of fragile reforms while building more just, inclusive, and resilient societies.

Locally-led approaches to democracy and governance reforms

By Elton Skendaj, director, Democracy and Governance Program, Georgetown University

Introduction

Despite nearly eighty years of effort, investment, and learning, democracy and governance reforms still often fail or underperform. For more than a decade, critics and advocates of more effective development assistance have promoted local ownership of these programs as a promising approach to shore up program effectiveness, legitimacy, and sustainability of the outcomes achieved.

This essay offers guidance to donors and development practitioners—including government agencies, philanthropic donors, implementing organizations, and advocates for reform—on how to strengthen democracy and governance reforms through locally-led, participatory approaches. It reviews the case for local leadership in development, particularly in democracy and governance reform programs, drawing on lessons from programs in Armenia, Sudan, and Kosovo—all of which pursued local ownership with varying degrees of success. The essay closes with observations about the challenges facing local leadership of democracy and governance assistance that these programs attempted to address and recommends several promising ways forward. At its heart, local ownership depends not on a change in donor rhetoric, but on practical, rubber-meets-the-road operations grounded in mutuality, respect, and intentional power sharing among donors, implementers, local organizations, and constituencies supporting prodemocracy reforms both abroad and at home.

Why local ownership matters for development

International actors seek to provide funding, technical expertise, and legitimacy to local actors that support democracy, human rights and governance (DRG) goals. However, these goals are often in tension with the power relationships and practical approaches typical of development assistance. Whereas donors generally hold the prerogative to drive accountability and compliance, the goal of strengthening bottom-up democracy necessarily entails local actors—that is, the constellation of host country governments, civil society, private-sector entities, and their domestic constituencies—setting the agenda regarding what efforts are funded, how they are funded, and directing the design, implementation, and monitoring of development programs and political reforms. Among all the development sectors, local ownership is particularly crucial for effective DRG programming.

Recognizing this, the field has shifted from framing itself as “democracy promotion,” which draws attention to the donor’s role and priorities, to “democracy assistance,” in which international actors intentionally position their efforts as secondary to and supportive of the efforts of local prodemocracy actors. Such reframing is a useful first step, but a more rigorous, operations-minded reconsideration of the role of external donors is needed to align DRG support with its own philosophical commitments and practical goals. International actors and donors may—whether systemically or inadvertently—misinterpret local contexts, impose their own priorities and frameworks, and substitute external priorities and prerogatives for local agency. Yet it is local actors who possess direct, first-hand, culturally-informed knowledge of their own priorities, needs, and contexts. To be effective, DRG programs must leverage both the best available evidence and this local knowledge. For this to happen, power dynamics around decision-making and resource allocation must be intentionally structured to support local leadership.

Many donors and advocates for local ownership have framed local leadership of development efforts as existing along a spectrum. These spectrum-based frameworks typically categorize programs as ranging from no or minimal local involvement—where international organizations control rules for funding allocation and project-level design and governance structures—to full local ownership, where local actors independently set their own agendas, mobilize resources, define success, and manage implementation processes, with external actors and outside assistance playing only a minimal or supporting role.

Conflict sensitivity and “Do No Harm” processes are also essential components of DRG work in all contexts, but they are particularly critical in fragile and conflict-affected states. Because these states are in danger of slipping back into war, unrest, or electoral violence, international actors must carefully attend to local dynamics, create space for communities’ needs and priorities, and incorporate local knowledge into political negotiations that bring together elites and international stakeholders.

Approaches for supporting local solutions in fragile states include participatory processes such as dialogue, co-creation, and collective problem-solving. These approaches have the potential to build citizen trust in institutions and enhance government responsiveness when they are sustained over time. For international programming to adapt to changing local conditions, longer-term investments, transparency and accountability toward local constituencies, and a commitment to flexibility are essential.

Challenges to local ownership models arise from power dynamics at all levels. Key manifestations of these challenges include donor bureaucratic systems, mismatches between external models for change and local contexts, and elite capture. Donor systems for procurement, compliance, performance management, and managing risk typically generate complex operational requirements that come with high burdens for small, local implementing organizations. These organizations require specialized training to apply and report on such procedures. However, local organizations often lack such training and capacity, and therefore end up serving as subcontractors and service providers to large development organizations that receive major contracts from funders in the United States and the European Union (EU). Such burdensome accountability requirements create difficulties for flexible, multi-year funding and impede local experimentation and learning.

Efforts to strengthen local capacity are often circumscribed by these bureaucratic demands, supporting NGOs principally as service providers to donors and their intermediaries. Such programs are designed and incentivized in ways that neglect individual organizations’ self-identified needs and priorities, while failing to engage and strengthen the capacity of broader networks of community-level groups and resource organizations.

Examples of effective locally-led development

Donor efforts to navigate these challenges require the patience to cultivate longer-term relationships, the flexibility to think beyond individual interventions or “projects,” and at least some appetite for incremental progress, locally-led adaptation of objectives and operations, and potential failure. For example, efforts to decentralize planning, budgeting, and implementation through participatory processes can—like any development objective—be pursued through approaches that are more or less grounded in local priorities, operational and resource realities, and accountability structures. It is now a well-worn truism that cookie-cutter approaches are rarely if ever appropriate—but what does locally-led decentralization assistance in a conflict-affected environment look like in practice?

Armenia

In 2015, the government of Armenia launched the Territorial Administrative Reform of Armenia, an initiative that sought to strengthen the administrative and fiscal capacities of Armenian municipalities in preparation for the decentralization of powers and functions administered by the central government. Among efforts by other bilateral donors, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) sought to assist the national government’s decentralization effort by strengthening the capacity of the newly consolidated communities to plan and resource their own strategic development priorities and by enhancing citizen engagement and oversight in community-led decision-making processes. In a period of declining funding for DRG programs, USAID’s Local Works program provided important flexibility in funding availability and grantee eligibility to address this challenge. Local Works was an initiative mandated by Congress to provide direct, flexible, small grants to community-led organizations that could not otherwise compete effectively for USAID funding, in order to sustainably address locally-defined priorities.

Through Local Works, the USAID Mission in Armenia invested in direct community listening sessions—held virtually due to the COVID-19 pandemic—and a multi-round co-creation workshop engaging both potential applicants and community representatives. This co-creation process produced a set of four grant awards made directly to local organizations in newly consolidated communities outside the capital Yerevan, including one grant specifically targeted at the areas hardest hit by fighting in the Nagorno-Karabakh region in late 2020. Through late 2023, as ongoing displacement from Nagorno-Karabakh continued to impact communities throughout the country, flexible grant language and a close, collaborative relationship with staff in the USAID Mission enabled local partners to repurpose resources to address emerging needs—even as they continued to engage community members in planning processes focused on long-term development and resilience to future shocks.

The grantee organizations reported that the close collaborative relationship with donor-side staff was essential for minimizing bureaucratic burdens in managing and reporting on awards and for streamlining approvals, which allowed them to pivot resources in response to the conflict’s evolving effects on their communities. Prior to the rapid and unplanned shutdown of USAID programming in Armenia in early 2025, the grantees, the donor agency, and the decentralization process had all benefited from the ability to demonstrate an effective and inclusive participatory planning process, as well as from the capacity of newly consolidated community governance structures to respond in real time to evolving community needs.

Sudan

In active conflict settings, traditional donor models for delivering humanitarian assistance through international intermediary organizations may be untenable when violence is pervasive. These models may also fail to invest in the systems, governance structures, and social capital needed to rebuild a peaceful and democratic society once the fighting stops. When large-scale violence and the ensuing humanitarian crisis broke out in Sudan in 2023, USAID staff once again sought to leverage flexibilities under the Local Works legislation to directly fund volunteer-based local organizations already operating in areas that international organizations could not reach. Known as Emergency Response Rooms (ERRs), these community-led organizations are composed of volunteers and democratic activists from Sudanese resistance committees, unions, cooperatives, service and change committees, women’s and youth groups, community-based organizations, and local activists. Grounded in the concept of “nafeer”—a Sudanese tradition of neighborhood-based community support rooted in values of mutual aid, solidarity, and trust—the ERRs work to ensure the continuity of basic services by organizing community clinics, delivering medicines, coordinating evacuations, restoring water and electricity services, managing soup kitchens, distributing food to vulnerable households, and facilitating the creation of local markets.

USAID used Local Works’ flexibilities to co-create a grant to fund a consortium of ERRs, coordinated via a localization council composed of said ERRs and local civil society organizations (CSOs). The grant would support these existing mutual aid systems through locally-led collaboration among groups with a demonstrated commitment to future democratic peacebuilding. Recognizing the limits of traditional, international intermediary-based assistance models, USAID was willing to adopt (and defend before its funders in Congress) a more flexible risk profile with the understanding that sustained, locally-managed emergency response would increase trust and legitimacy of community-led responders while helping repair the social fabric at the grassroots level. Through a hybrid co-creation process engaging ERR representatives and volunteer members, CSO partners, and a limited number of USAID staff participants, the consortium of ERR partners and a Sudanese intermediary CSO invested the time necessary to build internal consensus and understand USAID’s award requirements. Given this intentional time and space in a locally-led co-creation process, the stakeholders were able to collaboratively design a program that USAID could fund while supporting—rather than disrupting—the ERRs’ existing objectives and ways of working.

The grant was close to being finalized when the second Trump administration—through its Department of Government Efficiency—halted US foreign assistance in early 2025, and it was ultimately cancelled without being signed. While this initial award represented only a tiny fraction of the nearly $4 billion funding shortfall needed to address the humanitarian disaster in Sudan at the time of writing, the harm caused by the loss of trust among Sudanese democracy advocates—and the damage to US credibility and influence in the region resulting from retreating from its commitments—cannot be overstated.

Kosovo

Elite capture in fragile environments can also undermine governance reforms when building state capacity at the national level, especially in postwar contexts. In Kosovo, several former Kosovo Liberation Army commanders transitioned into prominent political roles after the war ended in 1999, forming and leading political parties that won seats in parliamentary elections since 2001 and joined coalition governments. These political parties used personalistic and politicized patronage networks to provide jobs to their followers in various central government ministries. Such clientelistic employment in central government led to poorer provision of public services, more employee turnover, and lower effectiveness of international technical expertise aimed at increasing bureaucratic capacity. In contrast, the customs and police services in Kosovo were relatively effective at managing trade, raising revenue, and providing for citizen safety. This was due to the merit-based hiring and promotion process implemented by the EU and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) during the 1999–2008 UN international administration. When Kosovo declared its independence from Serbia in 2008, all the bureaucratic institutions were staffed by Kosovars, but those built upon merit outperformed the patronage-driven organizations. Thus, for state-building, local ownership of the new state institutions remained the relevant goal despite the intrusive early involvement of international organizations in hiring and promotion processes.

Local ownership led to stronger democratization outcomes in Kosovo as citizens directly mobilized through elections and nonviolent movements that resisted Serbia’s dominance. Civil society involvement in nonviolent movements and the frequent turnover in power due to free and fair elections in Kosovo demonstrate local agency. International actors played a supportive role in election management and security. Thus, international and local actors in Kosovo had to navigate the tensions between committing to participatory democratic processes while supporting merit-based bureaucratic processes for state capacity building.

Examining key challenges to localization

While the examples from Armenia, Sudan, and Kosovo illustrate distinct challenges in conflict and postwar state-building contexts, they also highlight broader systemic obstacles that confront donors seeking to support local democratic actors effectively. Across the sector, serious donor efforts to directly and credibly support local democratic actors and advocates must now address fundamental operational and existential constraints. Exclusively donor-centric models of accountability and risk management give rise to bureaucratic demands that drain local organizations and activists’ resources and attention away from their own, locally-informed efforts and priorities, reducing the focus and resources available to manage feedback and accountability with local constituencies. Over successive rounds of localization reform efforts, USAID put significant effort and investment into addressing the bureaucratic and risk-management demands it imposed on its partners in order to better engage local partner organizations. These efforts stretched over a period of more than a decade, from Implementation and Procurement Reform and the Local Solutions initiative under successive Obama administrations, to the Journey to Self-Reliance (J2SR) reforms under the first Trump administration, to localization targets and supporting initiatives under the Biden Administration. On balance, efforts to increase the capacities of local entities to meet donor financial management and reporting demands were relatively more straightforward to operationalize, as these could be implemented through the familiar instruments of foreign assistance—namely contracts and grants to international and US-based intermediary implementing partners to conduct and report on capacity building activities. Concurrent efforts to improve USAID’s institutional flexibility, staff incentives, and culture for working effectively with local organizations were notably slower to take root.

Moreover, evidence of effectiveness and the artifacts of accountability efforts rarely find their way into the awareness of public constituencies either in the donor country or in the receiving local communities. Like nearly all institutions, donor organizations seek to sustain themselves. For bilateral assistance agencies and other publicly funded organizations prior to 2025, the legacies of high-profile, failed efforts (e.g., Afghanistan) and the fear of reduced funding levels did not drive a more vocal and public-facing defense of DRG programs. Investments in evidence-building have sought to justify the continuation of funding levels to ever-narrower audiences. Meanwhile, investments in programs themselves remain highly projectized, tied to donor funding cycles, often intensifying around time-bound, binary-outcome events like elections, and receding in “quieter” periods when investments in sustainability, systems change, and capacity strengthening are sorely needed. Even before the recent radical decline in funding and support for the sector, this recurring ebb of resources and interest in democracy support by donors contributed to the “starvation cycle” of funding faced by local organizations and undermined trust in funder commitment to democratic advocates and efforts.

Likewise, efforts to build evidence for and publicly justify locally-led programs have faced multiple constraints, primarily rooted in a donor-centric accountability culture and the fear of reduced funding. Locally-managed efforts are often painted as inherently riskier than programs managed by international implementers. At the same time, country- and community-based organizations with smaller operating budgets are assumed to be unable to deliver “impact”—a term whose meaning varies greatly depending on what outcomes are considered important—or to provide similar value for each dollar invested compared to their international counterparts. Like the programs themselves, efforts to address these gaps in evidence and communication around USAID programs were abruptly cut short in early 2025.

When funding decisions are made in political environments where leaders and democratically elected representatives are unwilling to make the case that DRG assistance aligns with their constituents’ values and is effective, simply publicizing performance data and audit findings is not sufficient to maintain public support or legitimacy for such programs on either end of the “local” divide. In the United States especially, public willingness to support democratic allies abroad based on shared values can no longer be assumed—it must be deliberately cultivated and earned. A political narrative that reports the facts with integrity while making a compelling case for the value of such programs—tailored to what both domestic and foreign constituencies care about—is essential to sustaining these efforts. Ultimately, support for locally-driven democracy and governance reforms must begin where it always has: at home.

Recommendations for advancing localized development

Among the many strategies available to those working to advance locally-led DRG solutions in fragile states worldwide, four stand out as especially relevant and promising:

  1. Shift decision-making power to local actors. Policy efforts and operational practices should foster genuine local ownership, with local actors setting agendas and leading the design, implementation, and evaluation of their activities. Achieving this requires donors and implementers to prioritize transparency and accountability toward their partners, program participants, and local constituencies.
  2. Foster mutual capacity sharing. Funders and implementers should invest in reciprocal capacity building between international and local actors. This means strengthening local organizations’ ability to manage programs while also sustaining themselves, recognizing that learning and knowledge flow in both directions. Efforts must be guided by local priorities for capacity development—not just by donor compliance requirements.
  3. Embed feedback and participatory approaches. Donors and implementers must commit to listening and adapting through mechanisms such as dialogue, co-creation, and collective problem-solving. Strong partnerships between local and international actors are essential to building mutual accountability and fostering learning.
  4. Build constituencies in donor states. It is critical to engage, persuade, and cultivate public and political support in the United States and the EU for democracy and development assistance.

Rooted in faith, grounded in community: How faith-based organizations advance localized development

By Peter Mandaville, nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center and director of the AbuSulayman Center for Global Islamic Studies at George Mason University

Why local ownership matters for development

The global development field is increasingly guided by the principle of localization, advocating the transfer of power, funding, and decision-making to local actors deeply embedded in communities. Yet, faith-based organizations (FBOs)—along with other religious actors and institutions such as churches, mosques, temples, and spiritual leaders—are often overlooked in localization dialogues. These actors are present across cultures worldwide and wield profound moral and social authority, serving as the connective tissue of communities. More than that, social science shows that religion matters. In a well-known poll conducted in 2010, the Pew Research Center found that 5.8 billion people—84 percent of the world’s population at the time—reported some affiliation with religion.

Religious actors are uniquely positioned to champion localization through three core strengths: deep trust from the communities they serve, contextual insight into local needs, and long-term presence across development and crisis cycles. Drawing on evidence from COVID-19 vaccination campaigns, West and Central African Ebola responses, and strategic religious engagement literature, this essay argues that FBOs should not be treated as mere logistical partners; rather, they should be recognized as full partners in development—capable of advancing human dignity, social resilience, and moral legitimacy.

The case studies highlighted here offer practical guidance for donors and development practitioners—including government agencies and implementing organizations—on how to integrate FBOs into localized development strategies.

Examples of effective locally-led development

Trust and access: Gateways to hard-to-reach communities

Trust is the foundational currency of effective development. In many contexts, FBOs hold a level of legitimacy that secular actors struggle to achieve. Their moral authority—grounded in spiritual leadership and long-standing relationships with communities—enables them to reach populations that might otherwise resist outside influence. This dynamic was vividly demonstrated during the COVID-19 pandemic. In Uganda, for example, Muslim and Christian religious leaders worked closely with health authorities to promote vaccination, using religious messaging that emphasized both parental duty and communal responsibility. These leaders influenced behavior not solely because of their social status, but because their messages were perceived as consistent with cultural and spiritual values.

A systematic review of thirty-seven studies confirmed that FBOs significantly improved vaccine uptake across global contexts by tailoring public health campaigns, addressing vaccine hesitancy, and serving as trusted interlocutors in contested public spaces. This trust extends beyond public health crises. During the Ebola outbreaks in West Africa and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), FBOs played a pivotal role in reshaping community behaviors—particularly around culturally sensitive practices such as burial. In Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone, religious leaders helped counteract widespread fear and misinformation by framing safe burial practices as a spiritual obligation to protect life and honor the dead. Similarly, an analysis of health intervention data found that programs delivered by FBOs provided roughly equal quality to those delivered by government agencies—often more efficiently and with greater community trust.

Trust, however, is not merely an instrument to deliver services; it is relational and ethical. FBOs often build their credibility over decades of consistent service provision, pastoral care, and social support. They are frequently the first point of contact during times of personal or communal crisis. This embedded trust is what enables FBOs to intervene in sensitive areas such as mental health, domestic violence, and sexual and reproductive health—topics that may be stigmatized or taboo in many communities. In these cases, the messenger is as important as the message. When trusted faith leaders deliver development interventions, those efforts gain moral weight and communal legitimacy.

In fragile and conflict-affected areas, FBOs often represent the only functioning institutions. They serve as vital intermediaries between international organizations and populations skeptical of external influence, ensuring that development programs extend beyond urban centers into marginalized rural communities. In parts of northern Nigeria and rural DRC, churches and mosques continue to provide essential services such as education and health care in the near-complete absence of the state. Their role is far beyond logistics—they mediate access, confer legitimacy, and ensure that aid is delivered with dignity.

FBOs as local knowledge hubs

FBOs do more than deliver services—they interpret and contextualize them. Through their sustained engagement with communities, religious actors develop detailed knowledge of local social dynamics, power relations, and cultural norms. They act as informal “think tanks,” gathering granular information and generating insights that are often inaccessible to external actors. This role as brokers of local knowledge is essential for designing context-sensitive programs.

During the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, FBOs collaborated with health officials to align interventions with religious and cultural expectations. Their involvement prompted adaptations to burial and caregiving practices that had previously clashed with infection control guidelines. By partnering with religious leaders to reinterpret sacred rituals, public health officials were able to foster behavior change without alienating local communities. This cultural translation—which framed infection-control measures as religious obligations and acts of communal care—was critical to the success of the Ebola response.

Moreover, FBOs often serve as early barometers of community sentiment. Owing to their deep ties and consistent engagement, they are often the first to detect shifts in public mood, social cohesion, or emerging grievances. This local intelligence is especially valuable in conflict-affected settings, where early warning and rapid response can prevent escalation. In many cases, individuals bring sensitive concerns to religious leaders long before they surface in public. Such proximity enables FBOs to identify risks and opportunities that conventional assessment tools might overlook.

FBOs also play a pivotal role in facilitating reintegration and social cohesion in the context of displacement and migration. Religious actors assist migrants not only through services but also by mediating identity, rebuilding social trust, and facilitating spiritual healing. They create spaces for displaced individuals to reconnect with cultural traditions and community networks, fostering a sense of belonging that formal institutions may struggle to provide. This role becomes even more critical in protracted crises, where return, reintegration, and reconciliation are drawn-out and complex processes.

In many contexts, faith actors serve as crucial mediators in post-conflict reconciliation. In post-genocide Rwanda, for example, church-led truth and reconciliation initiatives helped facilitate local dialogues and rebuild trust between Hutu and Tutsi communities. Similarly, in South Sudan and the Central African Republic, interfaith councils have helped defuse tensions, advocate for peace, and promote forgiveness and coexistence. These examples underscore the potential of FBOs to contribute not only to development outcomes but also broader goals of social harmony and justice.

Continuity and sustainability: The long-term role of FBOs

The contributions of FBOs to development are not confined to emergency response. One of their most significant assets is their enduring presence. Unlike international NGOs, which are typically constrained by project cycles and donor priorities, FBOs are deeply embedded in their communities, often for decades. They are present before crises, are among the first responders when emergencies occur, and remain engaged long after international attention has shifted elsewhere.

For example, the Tzu Chi Foundation in Taiwan mobilized within two hours of the 1999 Chi-Chi earthquake—drawing on pre-mapped volunteer networks organized during peacetime. Their response went beyond relief; they executed the “Project Hope” school-rebuilding initiative, demonstrating how strong local networks can accelerate comprehensive recovery.

Haiti offers another illustrative case. Following the 2010 earthquake, religious organizations provided immediate relief and sustained their support long after many humanitarian actors had left. Catholic and Protestant groups helped rebuild homes, reopen schools, and provide psychosocial support to traumatized populations. Similarly, in Indonesia’s Aceh province, Islamic boarding schools—so-called pesantren—were instrumental in post-tsunami reconstruction. Their established infrastructure, social networks, and moral authority made them ideal hubs for distributing aid, providing education, and supporting long-term recovery.

In the Philippines, Islamic and Christian organizations responded to Typhoon Haiyan with both material assistance and long-term accompaniment. They helped families restore housing, restart schools, and address trauma. Their approach was holistic—acknowledging that reconstruction is not just physical but also psychological and spiritual. Faith-based programming combined prayer, pastoral care, and community storytelling alongside construction and livelihood grants.

In Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Guinea, FBOs remained active in communities devastated by Ebola—supporting orphaned children, providing trauma counseling, and working to restore trust in health systems. In many cases, they maintained maternal health and education services that had collapsed during the crisis. The enduring presence of these organizations ensures that development gains are preserved when emergency programs end.

Sustainability also involves nurturing local leadership. FBOs often cultivate leaders through theological education, lay training, and youth mentorship. Such efforts produce a cadre of community leaders who are not only spiritually grounded but also equipped to address development challenges. Unlike externally funded staff who may leave when projects end, these leaders remain rooted in their communities, providing a stable and continuous presence.

Moreover, FBOs are uniquely positioned to foster lasting behavioral change by embedding development objectives in moral and spiritual narratives. Whether by promoting environmental stewardship, gender equity, or child protection, they connect these goals to religious teachings and values, reinforcing their legitimacy and sustainability. This narrative framing enables FBOs to cultivate intergenerational norms and strengthen community ownership of development outcomes. When communities view development as consistent with their values, they are more likely to invest in and sustain those gains over time.

Examining key challenges to localization

While FBOs offer numerous advantages, their inclusion in development efforts requires careful consideration. Faith-based engagement entails ethical complexities, including the risk of exclusionary practices, proselytization, and alignment with political agendas. Not all religious actors are equally committed to inclusivity, and some may resist development goals related to gender equality, LGBTQ+ rights, or religious pluralism.

For that very reason, religious engagement requires strategic clarity. Partnerships with FBOs must be grounded in shared values, transparency, and accountability—and donors and implementing agencies should vet potential partners carefully, ensuring they uphold humanitarian principles and respect diversity. This vetting process should extend beyond institutional affiliations to include assessments of community perceptions and internal governance.

Importantly, not all FBOs are conservative or resistant to change. Many are progressive actors who champion inclusive development. Women’s religious organizations, interfaith networks, and reform-minded clerics have often led efforts to challenge discriminatory norms within their communities. Engaging with these actors can amplify voices already working to align religious values with human rights. The Catholic Church’s Caritas Internationalis, for example, is a strong advocate for social justice, human dignity, and the rights of migrants and refugees.

It is equally important to recognize that the concern about exclusionary practices can go both ways. Governments and donors seeking to engage religious actors often gravitate toward religious elites and senior figures in faith institutions who hold formal titles or positions of authority (e.g., bishop, rabbi, mufti). Such an approach almost always confines religious engagement to men—and typically to older men. In many faith traditions around the world, women constitute highly influential—if often informal—sources of authority within religious communities. Likewise, younger religious leaders may remain silent in the presence of senior colleagues, even when they have better insight into community priorities and dynamics by virtue of being much closer to the median age.

When engaging religious actors and local FBOs, donors and government agencies must be alert to the significant power asymmetries that may arise in such partnerships. Instrumentalization and exploitation are a persistent risk, as is the possibility that religious actors will face direct safety threats if they are accused of serving as agents of specific governmental or political agendas.

Capacity building is hence essential to ensure that FBOs can participate effectively in development partnerships. While they bring moral capital and social legitimacy, some lack the technical capacity to meet donor requirements related to financial management, safeguarding practices, or monitoring and evaluation. Investing in these areas not only strengthens the effectiveness of FBOs but also enhances their long-term autonomy and resilience.

Bilateral and multilateral donor agencies such as the United Nations, the EU, and the now-defunct USAID have developed guidelines to support ethical and effective religious engagement. These frameworks—for example, USAID’s 2023 guidelines—promote inclusive practices, safeguard against coercion, and encourage collaboration across faith and secular actors. They also emphasize the importance of continuous dialogue and joint learning, thereby creating spaces where differences can be navigated constructively and common goals advanced.

Finally, ethical engagement requires humility and self-reflection on the part of secular development actors. It involves recognizing that faith perspectives may offer valuable insights into human well-being, community, and justice—insights that can enrich, rather than undermine, development practice. By approaching faith-based engagement as a dialogue rather than a transaction, development practitioners can build more authentic and transformative partnerships.

Recommendations for advancing localized development

  1. To realize the full potential of FBOs in localized development, their integration must be intentional, structured, and sustained. This begins with systematic mapping—identifying the religious actors already engaged in service delivery, advocacy, and community organizing. Mapping should consider not only formal organizations but also informal leaders and networks that command local respect and influence.
  2. Following mapping, capacity strengthening becomes critical. Training programs should focus on financial accountability, digital literacy, safeguarding practices, and results-based management. These investments enable FBOs to meet donor standards while maintaining their distinctive identity and relational strengths. Joint workshops and mentoring initiatives can also foster trust and mutual understanding between secular and religious actors.
  3. Integration does not always require funding. Sometimes the most effective form of engagement involves inclusion in planning processes, co-design of interventions, and participation in multi-stakeholder platforms. For example, in South Sudan, interfaith councils were brought into humanitarian coordination forums, improving information flow and the cultural adaptation of programs.
  4. Localization demands a shift in mindset. It is not only about transferring resources but about recognizing and valuing local epistemologies and moral worldviews. FBOs bring what has been described as “moral capital” and “spiritual capital”—resources that can deepen community commitment and resilience. When faith-based values align with development objectives, they can provide powerful motivational frameworks that sustain progress over time.
  5. Donors must resist the temptation to instrumentalize FBOs for crisis response and instead cultivate long-term partnerships rooted in mutual respect and co-creation. This involves strategic accompaniment—walking alongside FBOs through dialogue, joint reflection, and shared learning. By doing so, development actors can foster locally-rooted change that is both ethically grounded and operationally effective.
  6. Finally, to be successful in faith engagement for localized development it is vital to ensure that we “right size religion.” In practice this means neither placing undue emphasis on the role of religion or religious actors in a given context, nor dismissing their importance outright. It also means recognizing that as an integral part of broader civil societies, religious actors have relevance and exert influence in sectors far beyond what is conventionally defined as the realm of “religion.” Among other things, they are deeply involved in local economic development, community education, health service delivery, and peacebuilding—in other words, core areas of development.

FBOs are not peripheral to the localization agenda: in many contexts, they are its most authentic expression. Their presence, trust, and contextual knowledge position them as key agents of sustainable, community-driven development. However, realizing this potential requires intentional and principled engagement, strategic capacity investment, and a rethinking of how development systems value different forms of expertise.

As the field of strategic religious engagement matures, development practitioners have an opportunity to reshape the localization agenda around actors who are already deeply invested in the well-being of their communities. Doing so will not only enhance the effectiveness of development interventions but will also foster the kind of locally-rooted, morally resonant change that can endure beyond any single program or funding cycle.

What is ultimately at stake is not only the efficiency or reach of development programs, but the moral legitimacy and resilience of the development project itself. Faith-based actors offer a relational infrastructure, a moral vocabulary, and an enduring social presence that are indispensable to the localization of development. Their integration into development practice must be rooted in mutual respect, critical engagement, and a shared commitment to human dignity.

A community-driven approach to economic empowerment in one of the world’s most conflict-affected places

By Ibrahima Bokoum, executive director, Eastern Congo Initiative

Why local ownership matters for development

“I’ve never seen gold, but the country is full of it. I’ve never seen iron or cobalt. You can’t eat that.” This observation from Congolese business leader Valéry Namuto highlights a critical paradox: while international attention gravitates toward the Democratic Republic of Congo’s mineral wealth, ordinary Congolese communities focus on survival, food, water, education, and peace.

Eastern Congo’s trajectory cannot be reduced to resource extraction or conflict alone. It is shaped by a complex interplay of demographic growth, fragile infrastructures, climate shocks, and uneven access to basic services. Rapid urban migration and shifting livelihoods place enormous pressure on social systems. Yet within these constraints, communities innovate, adapt, and build resilience.

For decades, international assistance has played an important role. However, over-reliance on external actors has exposed vulnerabilities, particularly when funding priorities shift abruptly. The challenge now is not to disengage, but to realign investments in ways that strengthen local systems and institutions, ensuring durability and autonomy long after international presence fluctuates.

Evidence consistently demonstrates that initiatives rooted in community participation are more sustainable. A World Bank study found that projects with high levels of local ownership are approximately 60 percent more likely to endure after external support ends. Research by the international NGO Ground Truth Solutions summarizes the lesson succinctly: “Everything you do ‘for me’ without me, you do against me.”

For fifteen years, the organization I lead, the Eastern Congo Initiative (ECI), has placed this principle at the center of its approach. Long before “localization” became a global development priority, ECI embedded itself in communities across North and South Kivu, working with farmers, cooperatives, entrepreneurs, and women’s groups to design solutions that are relevant, adaptive, and resilient.

By supporting Congolese actors rather than substituting for them, ECI has helped foster durable markets and institutions: food systems that circulate within the province, women-led cooperatives that reinvest earnings into education and healthcare, and youth-driven enterprises that transform waste into energy or improve climate resilience.

Examples of effective locally-led development

Across Eastern Congo, communities are demonstrating that economic empowerment and resilience are possible even in fragile environments. The following examples illustrate how local actors are designing solutions that address urgent needs while laying the foundation for long-term growth:

  • Turning waste into power: Bing Ecology, a local start-up in Goma, addresses both deforestation and displacement by producing ecological charcoal as an alternative to wood. With modest, flexible support, the enterprise scales production by many folds in under a year, providing sustainable fuel, reducing carbon emissions, and creating jobs for youth and women.
  • Women leading food security: In South Kivu, the Maman Katana cooperative emerged after devastating floods. Led entirely by women, it not only restored food supplies but integrated aquaculture with agriculture, developing a circular system that maximizes resources and eliminates waste. Within months, seven hundred women joined the initiative, creating both economic opportunity and community resilience.
  • Building durable systems with the Asili Model: The Asili initiative illustrates how long-term, community-centered design can outlast crises. Conceived through deep consultation with Congolese communities, Asili reimagined aid as catalytic capital for essential services—healthcare, clean water, and agricultural cooperatives. From the outset, the goal was not dependency but transfer: enterprises built for and by Congolese, sustained through local leadership. Today, Asili operates as an independent Congolese enterprise. Its water systems serve nearly 400,000 people across ninety-eight miles of pipeline, and its clinics have grown into comprehensive health centers, even piloting new diagnostic services. Its agricultural arm, COOPABU, introduced disease-resistant potato seeds, raising productivity and income for rural farmers. Crucially, Asili survived the 2024 displacement crisis, when international NGOs evacuated; because it was rooted locally, its staff adapted operations and continued serving hundreds of thousands of people at the height of instability.

These examples underscore a vital truth: stability is not a prerequisite for economic development. On the contrary, innovation often emerges most forcefully in fragile environments. Economic empowerment nurtures resilience, which in turn creates conditions for stability and peace.

The lesson is clear: localization is not a risk; it is a long-term investment in resilience.

Recommendations for advancing localized development

For international development to be effective in fragile contexts, three shifts are necessary:

  1. From implementation to leadership. Local actors must not only implement but also design, govern, and evaluate initiatives. International partners should invest in institutions, not just projects, ensuring communities retain agency over priorities and strategies.
  2. From outputs to systems change. Success must be measured by sustainability, self-reliance, and systemic transformation, not simply by the number of wells dug or people reached. Monitoring and evaluation frameworks must adapt to these metrics and prioritize community voice.
  3. From short-term cycles to long-term commitment. Development requires patience. Crops like coffee take years before benefits accrue. Sudden funding withdrawals leave farmers in debt and weaken cooperatives. Policy frameworks must extend timelines, align humanitarian response with long-term development, and provide the flexibility to adapt as contexts shift.

As Eastern Congo faces ongoing challenges, its greatest resource is not its minerals but its people—the ingenuity of youth, the resilience of women, and the leadership of communities determined to chart their own future.

The experience of ECI demonstrates that resilience cannot be imported; it must be cultivated locally. Durable systems emerge when policies and partnerships recognize local knowledge, empower institutions, and invest in long-term capacity.

As the international community considers its role in fragile states, Eastern Congo offers a powerful case study: sustainable peace and development emerge when communities own both the vision and the means of implementation.

By investing in Congolese leadership, building adaptable systems, and aligning international support with community priorities, we can move beyond temporary interventions to lay the foundations of a society that is resilient, inclusive, and innovative. Eastern Congo’s future will not be written by external actors alone, but by the women, men, and youth who call it home. The role of international partners is to accompany—not replace—them on this journey.

Conclusion

Sustainable development and durable democracy cannot be achieved through externally imposed solutions alone; they depend on local ownership and leadership. Lasting results come when local actors are empowered to set priorities, craft strategies, and lead implementation. Communities possess the knowledge, networks, and moral authority that external actors cannot replicate, and development initiatives that leverage these strengths are far more likely to endure and generate meaningful impact.

Experience from fragile and conflict-affected contexts shows that trust, contextual understanding, and sustained engagement are indispensable. Whether through community-led governance reforms, FBOs bridging cultural and social divides, or adaptive approaches to stabilization, development succeeds when it aligns with the lived experiences and aspirations of local populations.

Policymakers, donors, and practitioners must shift from directing change to enabling it: investing in local capacity, cultivating genuine partnerships, and prioritizing long-term outcomes over short-term outputs. By centering local agency and embedding development within social, cultural, and ethical contexts, the international development enterprise can move beyond fleeting interventions to build societies that are resilient, inclusive, and capable of sustaining their own progress across generations.

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about the authors

Elton Skendaj is the director of the Democracy and Governance Program at Georgetown University.

Peter Mandaville is the director of the AbuSulayman Center for Global Islamic Studies at George Mason University and a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center.

Ibrahima Bokoum is the executive director of the Eastern Congo Initiative.

We thank Nina Dannaoui-Johnson, deputy director at the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center, and program assistant Will Mortenson for their assistance with editing.

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The Freedom and Prosperity Center aims to increase the prosperity of the poor and marginalized in developing countries and to explore the nature of the relationship between freedom and prosperity in both developing and developed nations.

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The US needs a cybersecurity roadmap https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/the-us-needs-a-cybersecurity-roadmap/ Thu, 29 Jan 2026 20:24:20 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=901734 A national cybersecurity strategy will require an operational road map.

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A fundamental approach of the Trump administration is ensuring and enhancing the defense of the United States homeland. Border security has accordingly been prioritized, and a “Golden Dome” missile defense has been proposed. But equivalent to the challenges of the border and of missile defense is the defense of the information and operational technology systems upon which the national security, economy, and public safety of the United States depend. This report focuses on operations and its companion report focuses on technology and architectures; together they identify the challenges facing the United States and describe a proposed national cybersecurity strategy that encompasses key roles for government and for the private sector.

A national cybersecurity strategy will require an operational road map for offensive and defensive campaigning and significantly enhanced resilience for key critical infrastructures built upon the development and adoption of safe coding and the implementation of zero trust architectures. Establishment of such capabilities will provide the president and the national leadership with the necessary capabilities to deter and defeat nation-state and criminal activities in cyberspace.

About the authors

Franklin D. Kramer is a distinguished fellow and board director at the Atlantic Council. Kramer has served as a senior political appointee in two administrations, including as assistant secretary of defense for international security affairs.

Robert J. Butler serves as the Managing Director for Cyber Strategies LLC.

Melanie J. Teplinsky is a cyber law and policy expert with over thirty years of experience spanning the private sector, government, and academia. She is an adjunct professor at American University, Washington College of Law (WCL); a senior fellow in the Technology, Law and Security Program at WCL; and a faculty fellow at American University’s Internet Governance Laboratory.

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Explore the programs

The Atlantic Council Technology Programs comprises five existing efforts—the Digital Forensic Research Lab (DFRLab), the GeoTech Center, the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, the Democracy + Tech Initiative, and the Capacity Building Initiative. These operations work together to address the geopolitical implications of technology and provide policymakers and global stakeholders necessary research, insights, and convenings to address challenges around global technology and ensure its responsible advancement.

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Congress has championed the Abraham Accords. Here’s how it can push them forward. https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/congress-has-championed-the-abraham-accords-heres-how-it-can-push-them-forward/ Thu, 29 Jan 2026 17:10:43 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=901541 This issue brief offers recommendations for Congress to reassert its leadership role in supporting the Abraham Accords.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Congress has been the most consistent supporter of the Abraham Accords and should pass additional authorizations and appropriations to advance them.
  • Lawmakers should pursue legislation that bolsters US leadership on regional economic and trade cooperation, helping lay the groundwork for the Middle Eastern prosperity envisioned by the Abraham Accords.
  • Congressional actions should include restoring the Abraham Fund, mandating consistent trade delegations to the region, and providing targeted bilateral leadership through congressional delegations.

Introduction

Following a brief respite after a cease-fire between Israel and Hamas brokered by US President Donald Trump, and in the wake of the twelve-day war and US-backed strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities, the Middle East appears once again to be sliding toward broader instability. Fractures among the Gulf states over Yemen’s future, growing instability inside Iran, and ongoing efforts to stabilize Syria are only some of the complex challenges confronting the region.

Despite these pressures, the Abraham Accords have endured, reinforcing their long-term significance. The United States—through both executive and congressional leadership—has continued to champion their success. Yet after Congress failed to reintroduce the Regional Integration Normalization Act (RINA) following the disgraceful exit of its former sponsor, Senator Bob Menendez, congressional engagement has largely become incremental and narrowly focused on defense relationships. This need not be the case.

In the summer of 2025, the Atlantic Council’s regional integration project—dedicated to strengthening cooperation between the United States, Israel, and Arab and Muslim countries—led its first-ever congressional delegation focused on the Abraham Accords to the Middle East amid the twelve-day war. Bipartisan engagement with Abraham Accords countries—then, as now—across areas such as interfaith dialogue, trade, and regional investment demonstrates that meaningful progress on normalization is possible, and may even accelerate, during turbulent times. This issue brief offers recommendations for Congress to reassert its leadership role in supporting the Abraham Accords and to expand the scope of US engagement on normalization and regional prosperity.

Advance regional prosperity through the Abraham Accords

Recommendation one: Expand business and commercial delegations supporting the economic integration of Abraham Accords countries. 

US trade missions are an essential bridge for US and foreign companies to connect and identify areas of mutual interest. Congress should consider requiring an annual US trade mission focused on a topic of high interest for regional integration, including travel to multiple Abraham Accords countries.

Following the signing of the Abraham Accords in 2020, then Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin led a trade delegation to Israel, Bahrain, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) to support the “expanded economic cooperation” promised by the Accords and announced the Abraham Fund—a planned $3 billion fund designed to support private-sector-led development projects. However, lower-level but consistent missions are also crucial to facilitate regional economic integration and prosperity. In 2022, the US Department of Commerce’s International Trade Administration led two trade missions to the Middle East: one to Israel, Bahrain, and the UAE, engaging aerospace and defense industries, and a flagship “Trade Winds” mission to the UAE that included an optional visit to Israel or Morocco before the main event. While these missions succeeded in connecting US firms with regional industries, there have been fewer recent US-led trade missions supporting regional integration through multi-country engagement. Against this background, Congress should make regional integration a clear priority when it benefits US commercial interests and consider codifying support for the Abraham Accords.

Recommendation two: Expand Abraham Accord Caucus engagement on regional economic projects, including the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor.

The India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) is a proposed transportation, energy, and digital corridor designed to provide more efficient and resilient infrastructure capable of meeting the needs of a changing global economy. It could serve as the backbone for regional integration while unlocking substantial economic incentives by leveraging the Middle East’s role as a bridge between Europe and Asia. If the United States can help shape IMEC development—setting standards for ports and digital infrastructure, identifying opportunities for US companies, and countering influence from Russia and China—it could effectively balance against China’s Belt and Road Initiative while reasserting US economic leadership in a critical region.

The Abraham Accords Caucus co-chairs and congressional committee leaders should organize regular briefings with both the administration and relevant private-sector stakeholders to explore how the United States can influence the development of IMEC and ensure opportunities for US companies. While Congress has advanced political and security integration initiatives, economic integration, which is foundational for regional peace and prosperity, has received less attention. IMEC and similar initiatives offer an opportunity for Congress to do more on this front. The Abraham Accords Caucuses should also establish staff-level working groups for frequent engagement on economic integration projects. Recent efforts by Representatives Brad Schneider (who joined the June congressional delegation) and Blake Moore to launch a House Abraham Accords Caucus trade working group offer excellent platforms for such briefings. Additionally, the Abraham Accords Caucus should coordinate with the US Department of Commerce to identify businesses and industries that could benefit from regional integration, generating district- and state-level connections that strengthen Middle East prosperity.

Recommendation three: Formally authorize and support the Abraham Fund and prioritize regional Abraham Accords projects for US International Development Finance Cooperation support.

After the signing of the Abraham Accords, the United States, Israel, and the UAE established a $3 billion fund to support private-sector investments and development initiatives advancing regional economic integration. Efforts by the US International Development Finance Cooperation (DFC) late in the first Trump administration attempted to energize the fund, including a call for proposals for projects in Morocco and a $50 million commitment from Uzbekistan. However, since a 2021 interagency review under then-US President Joe Biden, no public activity has been registered regarding the Abraham Fund.

In 2023, Congress signaled continued interest in supporting economic integration through Section 8 of the RINA, which would have authorized the creation of the “Abraham Accords, Negev Forum, and Regional Integration Opportunity Fund” with $105 million, enabling the US secretary of state to support interagency projects including the Abraham Fund. While this number was far lower than the Abraham Fund’s announced $3 billion, it demonstrated robust bipartisan support for US diplomatic leadership and the potential for a rigorous approach to leveraging development finance. Congress should build on the RINA example by authorizing and appropriating funds for regional economic integration projects while maintaining the current framework for special envoy leadership of the fund and clarifying the role of such an envoy in fund dispersal. By building on recent changes to DFC through the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2026 , Congress can advance the Abraham Fund in parallel with other new initiatives.

Institutionalize and expand US diplomatic leadership on the accords

Recommendation four: Allow exceptions for a dual-hatted Abraham Accords envoy.

Both the Biden and Trump administrations have demonstrated commitment to senior official engagement on expanding the Abraham Accords. Under Biden, this included the appointment of Dan Shapiro, former ambassador to Israel, as the first Abraham Accords envoy. In the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2024, Congress codified the role of Special Envoy for the Abraham Accords, Negev Forum, and Related Integration and Normalization Fora and Agreements. However, despite the creation of this new role, no one has been nominated to the Senate-confirmed position. Members of Congress have expressed interest in seeing the vacant slot filled, including in a widely signed letter in January 2025. One possible reason for the vacancy is that legislation codifying the role explicitly requires that the individual “. . . shall not be a dual-hatted official with other responsibilities,” which may have discouraged both the Biden and Trump administrations from making a nomination. While there is significant value in having a senior official dedicated to advancing the Abraham Accords, the reality is that the kinds of strategic economic, security, and diplomatic cooperation associated with the accords can overlap with existing portfolios within the US government. For example, Special Envoy Steve Witkoff engaged on the Abraham Accords, but this represents just one of his many priorities.

Congress should consider modifying this restriction, enabling more senior US officials with synergistic portfolios to fill the position. This would enable the administration to formally designate a “lead” for the accords, elevating their priority.

Recommendation five: Authorize the State Department to lead a new strategic multilateral forum reflecting US and regional priorities.

While the Negev Forum had a robust start in 2022, a new strategic approach is needed to operationalize the goals of the Abraham Accords. Congress should direct the State Department to develop an updated plan for a new multilateral forum that regularly brings together senior officials, advancing strategic US and regional priorities in energy, investment, and security—topics not fully covered by the Negev Forum. This forum should learn from the disruption that the Negev Forum has experienced over the past two years and adapt to evolving regional dynamics. Congress should consider constructs similar to previous regional integration legislation, such as the Deterring Enemy Forces and Enabling National Defense (DEFEND) Act and the Learning Integrated National Knowledge for the Abraham Accords Act, which authorize specific objectives and activities for the executive branch to carry out and require measurable progress—through strategies, reports, and direct action—to meet congressional intent. Priority areas for multilateral coordination among accords countries include:

  • Regional security cooperation: While the present environment might not be conducive to a comprehensive security partnership, a new multilateral forum should incorporate a pathway for regional security cooperation. This could include building on existing platforms such as the Comprehensive Security Integration and Prosperity Agreement (C-SIPA) and leveraging ideas associated with past initiatives, such as the Middle East Strategic Alliance. Section 1299 of the recently passed National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2026 provides a foundation for the further expansion of C-SIPA by requiring an assessment of the agreement’s strategic importance and its potential expansion.
  • Traditional energy: Many Gulf states are seeking to diversify their economy away from fossil fuels. However, growing energy demand and the need for resilient, diverse energy systems mean that traditional energy sources will remain a critical part of the equation for the foreseeable future. Consequently, Israel, Egypt, and others have continued to develop natural gas and other traditional energy sources and have worked to integrate their projects across the region, leading to regional bodies such as the Eastern Mediterranean Gas Forum, which includes both Israeli and Palestinian representation. In line with Trump’s executive orders titled “Unleashing American Energy,” the State Department should use a revived accords multilateral framework to explore how initiatives like the Eastern Mediterranean Gas Forum can support regional economic integration.
  • Investment: In addition to traditional energy, the State Department should encourage more integration in the financial space, including cooperation on regional investments and domestic barriers to intra-regional investments. This could include new forms of cooperation, such as around coordinated regulation of cryptocurrency consistent with the goals of the recent GENIUS Act. While this will take time and trust to build, integrating wealthier states with regional entrepreneurial projects would allow for an immediate and tangible demonstration of how the Abraham Accords advance participants’ prosperity. Efforts to advance investment and financial partnerships are familiar to Congress. Section 9 of the RINA, a bipartisan effort by the then-leadership of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and all four Abraham Accords Caucus co-chairs in the Senate, outlines a directive for the special envoy for the Abraham Accords to negotiate the creation of such a financial forum.

Mobilize and deepen people-to-people and legislative exchanges

Recommendation six: Authorize and appropriate funds for interfaith religious dialogues to support tolerance and understanding across Abraham Accords countries.

The second paragraph of the Abraham Accords declaration supports promoting “interfaith and intercultural dialogue” to advance the accords’ mission of peace and prosperity. However, no State Department grants have yet been publicly made available to support interfaith dialogues across Abraham Accords countries. Such grants could support the work of organizations such as the Mimouna Association, which connects Jewish and Muslim youths through interfaith programming. The State Department’s reluctance to issue such grants contrasts with a bipartisan and bicameral effort by all eight House and Senate co-chairs of the Abraham Accords Caucus who formally requested their issuance in 2023. In addition to encouraging the use of existing funding for such efforts, the Senate included $1 million for such grants in Section 10 of the RINA. While the act remains only proposed legislation, Congress should revisit the oversight and appropriations efforts from 2023 and renew calls for interfaith and intercultural dialogue grants. The Trump administration has clarified that advancing and expanding the Abraham Accords is a priority. The Abraham Accords declaration clearly supports interfaith dialogues, and the promotion of such dialogues in the Middle East is particularly important in the current environment, as the region seeks to move past historical biases toward new bonds. Few interfaith efforts are as worthy of support.

Recommendation seven: Expand bilateral-focused congressional travel to Abraham Accords countries to support the accords.

While more than a dozen congressional delegations travel to the Middle East annually and engage with Abraham Accords partner countries, fewer delegations travel with the explicit objective of supporting regional integration. Unfortunately, even fewer congressional delegations spend sufficient time in a partner country to build the government-to-government ties essential for moving Abraham Accords countries toward further integration. The Abraham Accords Caucus, or another member-driven initiative, should organize more regular congressional delegations to Abraham Accords partner countries. These delegations should focus on specific projects or initiatives that can generate tangible improvements in bilateral cooperation, such as trade, and ultimately promote regional integration. Congress should look to the US Departments of Commerce, State, and Agriculture to help identify issues and topics that members can use to advance the bilateral relationship toward greater integration. Agencies can also assist in supporting the identification of shared commercial interests or frictions based on members’ constituencies.

Model legislation annex

The following legislative text is provided solely for educational and informational purposes as illustrative “model” language. It is not intended to advocate for or against the passage of any particular bill, nor to influence specific legislation pending before Congress. The sample provisions are offered to demonstrate how recommendations in this report could be operationalized in statutory form. Inclusion of this text should not be construed as lobbying activity but, rather, as a nonpartisan resource for policymakers, researchers, and stakeholders.

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About the author

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Through our Rafik Hariri Center for the Middle East and Scowcroft Middle East Security Initiative, the Atlantic Council works with allies and partners in Europe and the wider Middle East to protect US interests, build peace and security, and unlock the human potential of the region.

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In Iraq, China’s long game unfolds https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/in-iraq-chinas-long-game-unfolds/ Mon, 26 Jan 2026 20:30:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=896909 As China seeks new markets abroad and energy security at home, Iraq has become integral to Beijing’s plans in the Middle East. Baghdad finds itself caught between its security needs, for which it depends on the United States, and the economic needs of its growing population.

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Bottom lines up front

  • As China seeks new markets abroad and energy security at home, Iraq has become integral to Beijing’s plans in the Middle East.
  • Demographic and economic trends inside Iraq are pushing the country toward China.
  • Because Baghdad remains reliant on US protection, it is likely to continue hedging between Beijing and Washington.

When it comes to the beginning of the China-Iraq relationship, there are a number of starting points. Some are framed within the longue durée and civilizational discourse favored by the Chinese and cherished by the Iraqis. For instance, in his March 15, 2023, speech introducing the Global Civilization Initiative, Chinese President Xi Jinping invoked ancient cross-cultural exchange as the foundation of China’s modern outreach. Chinese officials talk about Iraq in similar terms. When Cui Wei, China’s ambassador in Baghdad, visited a local research center, he opened by recalling that “our ancestors—more than two thousand years ago—built the ancient Silk Road for friendly communication with the countries of the world . . . As for Iraq, it is a shining pearl on the Silk Road, which left China and Iraq with good memories.” In this narrative, Abbasid-era trade brought Chinese papermaking, gunpowder, printing, compasses, silk, porcelain, and tea to Iraq and, through Iraq, to the wider Middle East and Europe. In return, astronomy, calendars, medicine, spices, and arts moved eastward into China. This semi-mythical view of the Silk Road allows Beijing to distinguish itself from Western powers and present its presence in Iraq as rooted in deep history rather than modern geopolitics. 

Alongside this civilizational rhetoric sits an official diplomatic starting point, and these two stories are mutually enhancing. China recognized the Kingdom of Iraq in 1942, though ties remained limited. A substantive relationship emerged after the 1958 coup led by Abd al-Karim Qasim and the two countries formally established diplomatic relations on August 25, 1958. Beijing viewed Qasim’s coup as part of a broader anti-imperialist realignment and saw Iraq through the lens of Cold War polarization. The Iraqi Communist Party’s strength reinforced this perception. During this period, China’s embassy in Baghdad became a key hub for distributing Maoist literature, part of Beijing’s effort to export revolutionary ideology. 

A third foundation of the two countries’ relationship is personal and ideological, as demonstrated through figures such as former Iraqi President Jalal Talabani and, later, Adil Abdul-Mahdi. Talabani visited China in 1955 and met Premier Zhou Enlai, seeking support for the Kurdish national movement in Iraq. China declined, and Talabani later recalled realizing that Beijing’s stance on national questions was incompatible with Kurdish aspirations. Despite this refusal, he remained drawn to Maoist thought. Material links also emerged early: During the Great Leap Forward famine, Iraqi dates became an important ration for Chinese households, a memory now invoked in cultural exchanges pairing Iraqi dates with Chinese tea. These civilizational, diplomatic, personal, and material strands gave China a multilayered story about its presence in Iraq and prepared the ground for the more strategic phase that followed. 

The modern relationship: War, weapons, and debt 

The modern China-Iraq relationship took shape in post-Mao China, especially during the 1980s. By the onset of the Iran-Iraq War, China had begun prioritizing economic development and external markets—priorities later embodied in the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). But Beijing’s approach to the two countries and their conflict was never purely economic. Deng Xiaoping saw an opportunity to counter Soviet influence as Moscow appeared to pivot toward Tehran. According to historian Pierre Razoux, China pursued three goals: containing the Soviet Union, expanding markets, and maintaining a balance between the two belligerents. 

In practice, Beijing discreetly armed Iraq while avoiding any outcome that might destabilize Iran. Chinese shipments included T-59 and T-69 tanks (copies of the Soviet T-55 and T-62), Type 59 towed field guns (copies of the 130-milimeter M-46), Type 56 assault rifles (copies of the Soviet Kalashnikov), and millions of shells and assorted munitions. Throughout the war, China became Iraq’s third-largest arms supplier, after the Soviet Union and France. This arms trade generated substantial Iraqi debt and Chinese claims became the largest portion of Saddam Hussein’s external war debt, including roughly $8.5 billion in commercial obligations. These debts later provided Beijing with leverage as Iraq reentered the international system after 2003. 

For much of the Shia elite, China—not the United States—is the preferred long-term partner.

The 1990–2003 sanctions era further shaped the economic relationship. Iraq’s isolation created openings for Chinese firms willing to operate under sanctions. In 1997, the China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) signed a production-sharing agreement (PSA) for the al-Ahdab field in the southern Iraqi city of Kut—an uncommon contract model in Iraq, where service contracts had become the norm after the 1970s nationalization. Baghdad’s weakened negotiating position and China’s opposition to sanctions facilitated the deal. Although the PSA did not fully materialize in the 1990s, it laid the contractual groundwork for Beijing’s return in the post-Hussein era. 

Talabani turns to Beijing for debt relief

After 2003, Talabani’s long-standing ties with China became politically consequential. While serving with the US-run Coalition Provisional Authority in 2003, he traveled to Beijing. China reopened its Baghdad embassy in 2004. The decisive moment came in 2007, when Talabani, as Iraq’s president, returned to China to negotiate debt relief. Beijing agreed to cancel all Iraqi sovereign debt and 80 percent of commercial debt—roughly $6.4 billion. This forgiveness cleared the way for reviving pre-2003 energy contracts. 

When the Ahdab project was relaunched, its PSA was converted to a service contract aligned with Iraq’s post-nationalization model. Chinese officials cast the project as a flagship for renewed cooperation.  

China’s emergence as a major oil partner aligned with the preferences of Iraq’s new Shia-led political class. Reporting from 2008 indicated that Iran encouraged Iraqi authorities to steer contracts away from US oil majors. For many Shia actors, Western oil companies symbolized the risk of external interference—a view shaped partly by the legacy of the 1950s struggle over Iranian oil nationalization. Chinese firms, by contrast, were seen as politically neutral and commercially pragmatic. Their willingness to operate amid insecurity, corruption, and low margins further strengthened their position. 

As ties deepened, Iraqi leaders sought broader economic engagement with China. After Talabani’s visit, then Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki traveled to Beijing in 2011 to solicit Chinese participation in infrastructure and power generation to “help Iraq restore its own industry.” The partial withdrawal of US forces then opened additional space for China. With much of Iraq’s oil revenue consumed by salaries and routine government spending, officials looked for alternative ways to finance major projects. Prominent Iraqi politician Ahmed Chalabi proposed borrowing from China for large-scale infrastructure—a concept that fed into the 2019 “oil-for-infrastructure” framework. 

Prime Minister Adil Abdul-Mahdi’s 2019 trip to Beijing marked the high point of this approach. He described China as a partner for rebuilding Iraq’s infrastructure and embraced an explicitly pro-China development narrative. In an op-ed for China Daily, he argued that “a new world is emerging as the old one disintegrates” and cast the BRI as an inclusive path to long-term mutual benefit. The delegation’s message—with its emphasis on speed, efficiency, and technology transfer—captured Baghdad’s hope that China could deliver what Western firms, in Iraqi eyes, had not. 

‘Everyday dependence’ leads to lasting ties

These elite choices reflect deeper social and economic shifts. Iraq’s 2024 population census revealed that the country is urbanizing rapidly: More than 70 percent of Iraqis now live in cities. Urban households demand appliances, cars, electronics, and clothing, but face limited purchasing power. Chinese products—cheaper and increasingly familiar—meet these households’ needs. Over time, this has created a form of everyday dependence on Chinese goods that reinforces the broader geopolitical relationship. Affordability has gradually translated into acceptance, and acceptance into trust. 

These economic dynamics intersect with a changing political discourse. Recent election cycles in Iraq have seen a sharp decline in the prominence of democratic norms—rule of law, human rights, institutional accountability—in party narratives. As Western states also appear less committed to these values, Iraqi elites increasingly feel less pressure and elevate other priorities. Concepts linked to China’s development model—service provision over rights, infrastructure over institutions, efficiency over process—have gained traction across the political spectrum. 

China did not originate these trends, but its model resonates with and, in some cases, strengthens them. Beijing offers investment without political conditions, engagement without democratization requirements, and diplomatic rhetoric emphasizing non-interference in domestic politics—particularly in places such as Iraq. For many Iraqi leaders, this combination is appealing. And for many Iraqi consumers, China’s presence is already embedded in daily economic life.

Together, these forces—historical narratives, wartime ties, debt diplomacy, energy cooperation, and structural shifts in Iraq’s society and political culture—have produced a relationship that is both durable and expanding. While Iraq’s future trajectory will depend on broader regional and global dynamics, China’s position in the country is now anchored in multiple layers of the Iraqi state and society, making it a long-term feature of Iraq’s economic and geopolitical landscape. 

Where China is most active in Iraq

China has established an expansive and multisectoral presence in Iraq, spanning energy, telecommunications, consumer markets, and education. Its strategy appears aimed at deepening Iraq’s economic reliance on China across vital sectors, thereby embedding Beijing’s influence within Iraq’s long-term development trajectory. Bilateral trade between the two countries amounted to $54 billion in 2024, and China is the major source of foreign direct investment in Iraq, contributing $34 billion in 2023. 

Energy dominance 

For decades, China’s interest in Iraq has centered primarily on its vast energy resources. This manifests in purchasing Iraqi oil and developing Iraq’s energy infrastructure—both of which are vital to China’s energy security and geopolitical ambitions. In 2024, China imported slightly more than 1 million barrels per day (bpd) from Iraq, or 10 percent of its total crude imports. 

Chinese state-owned firms dominate the oil sector in Iraq, which is the second-largest producer in the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) after Saudi Arabia and home to the world’s fifth-largest reserves. Reports suggest Chinese companies manage about one-third of Iraq’s 145 billion barrels of proven reserves and hold direct shares in roughly 24 billion barrels. They produce two-thirds to three-quarters of Iraq’s output of slightly more than 4 million bpd, with CNPC alone accounting for half of total production

Initially limited to state firms, Chinese investment has recently expanded to include private energy companies attracted by Baghdad’s favorable contract terms. These firms were licensed in August 2025 to develop several new fields and plan to add 500,000 bpd to Iraq’s production by 2030, as Baghdad targets 6-million-bpd capacity. 

While Beijing’s role secures its energy interests, it also deepens Iraq’s tilt toward the East—an orientation encouraged by Shia political factions allied with Iran. These groups promote stronger ties with China (and, to a lesser degree, Russia) as a means of reducing dependence on Washington and circumventing US pressure. 

Mindful of the optics of deepening ties with China, Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al-Sudani sought to reengage US energy firms. During his April 2024 visit to the United States, he met oil executives in Houston and urged them to renew investment. The effort appeared to bear some fruit. In October 2025, Exxon Mobil signed an agreement to re-enter the Iraqi market and operate the Majnoon field in Basra, after its full exit from Iraq in January 2024 and subsequently handing over of the West Qurna 1 field to PetroChina. 

Telecommunications and digital infrastructure 

China’s involvement in Iraq’s telecom sector predates Hussein’s fall. Chinese company Zhongxing Telecom Co. first entered Iraq in 1999, when the country remained under international sanctions. Around the same time, Huawei began clandestinely building a fiber-optic network for Iraq’s military, which was later bombed during a 2001 US-UK air raid—an episode that led to Washington’s view of Huawei as a national security threat. 

In 2003, following the overthrow of the Baath regime by the United States and its allies, Huawei returned to Iraq’s emerging telecom market via Asiacell, the country’s leading carrier. In 2011, Robert C. Fonow, a US State Department adviser to Iraq’s Telecommunication Ministry, told the Washington Times that Huawei effectively “owned” Iraq’s telecom sector, alleging the firm had received more than six hundred contracts worth billions of dollars—some indirectly financed by US reconstruction funds.  

Today, Chinese technology firms remain central to Iraq’s digital expansion. In June 2025, Asiacell and China Mobile International (CMI) signed a memorandum of understanding (MoU) to expand enterprise-level digital services, billed as accelerating Iraq’s digital transformation through CMI’s global expertise. Huawei also partnered with Iraq’s Communication and Media Commission, Iraq’s top regulatory body in the field, to train personnel in cybersecurity. Iraqi officials have publicly encouraged deeper Chinese investment in telecommunications, signaling a sustained partnership in digital infrastructure. 

Consumer markets and renewable energy 

China’s commercial reach extends to Iraq’s consumer markets—from electronics to vehicles to solar energy. In the first half of 2025, Iraq imported eighteen thousand Chinese cars worth $639 million, a 30-percent increase over the same period in the previous year. The Kurdistan region accounted for the largest share, as consumers favored affordable yet feature-rich Chinese vehicles. For example, a 2025 MG GT sedan sells for about $8,850, compared with around $20,000 for comparable Asian or Western models. Similarly, a BYD hybrid sport utility vehicle (SUV) retails for $24,300, well below competitors’ SUVs. Local dealers report that “buyers who once paid more for American cars from Dubai now prefer Chinese cars with leather interiors, large screens, and panoramic roofs at a fraction of the cost.” 

Chinese solar panels have also surged. According to the Washington-based Attaqa Energy Research Group, Iraq ranked third in 2025 among Arab-majority states for Chinese solar imports. In the year’s first half, Iraq imported 0.9 gigawatts of solar panels—a nearly 600-percent increase in terms of solar generation capacity from 2024—driven by state-backed projects to install solar systems in homes, schools, and public buildings. 

Education, media, and cultural outreach 

Alongside its economic footprint, China has ramped up soft-power efforts to win Iraqi hearts and minds. Keen to counter critical media coverage of China, Chinese diplomats at times engage with Iraqi media—particularly to push back against criticism on issues such as the Uyghur crisis in Xinjiang. 

Chinese universities are offering around eighty scholarships to Iraqi students for the 2025–2026 academic year. The Chinese consulate in Erbil has backed the 2019 establishment of a Chinese language program at Salahaddin University in Erbil—one of only two such programs in the Middle East. It also helped create a China Studies Center at Sulaimaniyah University, which publishes a Kurdish-language magazine introducing China and supports translation of Chinese books.  

While Washington’s retreat from democratization and aid has eroded its image, China’s cultural outreach, development model, and messaging resonate with many Iraqis. 

China’s exchange programs regularly bring Iraqi civil servants and professionals to Chinese institutions for technical training. The Chinese consulate in Erbil now plans to establish the Great Wall organization to strengthen bilateral relations by bringing together Iraqi Kurds who have visited China through various Beijing-sponsored exchange programs. Beijing has further expanded scientific cooperation by signing an agreement with Iraq in 2025 to develop a “peaceful nuclear technology program,” including construction of Iraq’s first nuclear training reactor for academic use in nuclear physics and radiological sciences. The initiative, led by Minister of Higher Education Na’im al-Abboudi—a senior member of the Iran-backed Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq movement—has drawn scrutiny in Washington for its potential geopolitical implications. 

Beijing has a distinct approach to Kurdistan 

China’s relationship with the Kurdistan Region of Iraq (KRI) differs in tone and texture from its engagement with federal Iraq, yet both align with Beijing’s broader strategy. Energy remains the core of China-Iraq relations, and China’s activities in the KRI ultimately reinforce that foundation. However, the China-Kurdistan relationship appears more diverse, shaped by the autonomous region’s social openness and China’s preference for a low-risk, apolitical presence. 

Historically, the relationship has two main strands. The first dates to Talabani’s 1955 visit to Beijing and his fascination with Maoism, which shaped aspects of his political worldview and indirectly influenced the early identity of his party, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK). After 2003, the PUK became essential for rebuilding China-Iraq ties, and it is no coincidence that every Iraqi ambassador to China since 2003 has been from the PUK, reflecting both personal networks and political continuity. 

Another key moment in the relationship was China’s opening of its consulate in Erbil in 2014. At the ceremony, then Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) Prime Minister Nechirvan Barzani described it as “the first step toward building a new phase in bilateral relations,” signaling opportunities in politics, culture, infrastructure, and commerce. As the KRG’s former foreign relations chief, Falah Mustafa, put it, China’s permanent seat on the UN Security Council gives its presence in Erbil symbolic and practical weight. Yet Beijing has remained cautious in its political engagement with Kurdish authorities, consistent with its 1991 abstention on UN Resolution 688 condemning Hussein’s repression of the Kurds. 

Despite this reticence, China has built a wide-ranging network of relationships. The Chinese consulate in Erbil regularly invites Kurdish political parties, universities, media outlets, and government ministries to short study programs in China. This resembles earlier US public diplomacy programs but is more ideologically neutral. Beijing makes a point of engaging all political currents, including leftist, nationalist, and Islamist parties. As a former KRG adviser noted in an interview with one of the authors, “During a trip to China, I met a member of the Kurdistan Communist Party and a cadre of an Islamic party attending the same course.” Kurdish officials appear increasingly attentive to China’s rise and its willingness to support development in Iraq and Kurdistan. This was reflected in comments by Sulaimaniyah Governor Haval Abubakr, who recently described China as “the America of the East.” 

China’s expanding activity in the KRI also intersects with the US-KRG relationship. As the United States has constructed a massive new consulate complex in Erbil, intended as a physical symbol of long-term commitment, China has also signaled interest in building a new consulate of its own. However, while the KRI has deep diplomatic and security ties with the United States, its relationship with China remains overwhelmingly concentrated in trade and cultural domains. Indeed, this is a deliberate choice on Beijing’s part. By avoiding security and identity questions, China cultivates what might be described as a “decaf” relationship—active and useful, yet stripped of political commitments. 

Kurdistan’s openness to the world enables this strategy. Travel is highly valued socially, and China’s invitations arrive at times when economic hardship—such as salary delays by Baghdad—limits mobility. “I managed to have a trip in a time of salary crises,” a Sulaymaniyah lecturer interviewed for this report noted after joining a Chinese study program. This openness has provided fertile ground for Beijing’s soft-power outreach. 

China’s public diplomacy is more developed in the KRI than in the rest of Iraq. It promotes familiarity with Chinese institutions, culture, and political narratives through sustained engagement. This has shifted public perceptions and increased interest among Kurdish students and professionals. As noted earlier, Beijing has supported institutions such as China in Kurdish, the China Studies Center in Sulaimaniyah, and the Chinese Department at Salahaddin University, with plans for additional language programs. Events like Chinese Film Week and commemorations of the “80th Anniversary of the Victory of the Chinese People’s War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression” give China cultural visibility and institutional depth. Collectively, these centers make cultural programming and exchanges smoother and more consistent. 

Over the past two decades, China’s expanding presence has begun to shape Iraq’s economic future, regional role, and relations with the United States.

This network also supports China’s commercial aims. The long-standing Asiacell-Huawei partnership is illustrative. Asiacell, headquartered in Sulaymaniyah, is Iraq’s largest telecom company, and its relationship with Huawei began on the eve of the 2003 US invasion. In February 2003—anticipating conflict—Huawei scouted opportunities in Kurdistan. When Washington issued its ultimatum to Hussein in March, Huawei moved Asiacell staff to Shenzhen for emergency training. In 2023, the two firms celebrated the twentieth anniversary of their “precious partnership,” outlining plans to integrate artificial intelligence into Iraq’s telecom services. Today, Huawei is the primary equipment provider to all major Iraqi telecom operators, a position rooted partly in its early foothold in the KRI. 

China’s presence also shapes Kurdistan’s sociopolitical landscape. Chinese goods—from household items to solar panels to electric vehicles—dominate local markets. As a Sulaymaniyah trader interviewed for this paper explained, “You cannot produce anything in Kurdistan, as the Chinese make it cheaper, even if it’s a pillow cover.” This economic dependency affects local production and, over time, influences political imagination. Concepts associated with China’s governance model—especially centralized party control and the importance of family connections—mirror existing patterns and appeal of China in Kurdistan and federal Iraq. 

It is important to note that when it comes to strategic economic sectors, the KRG is not linked to China in the same way the federal government and the areas under its control are. For example, while the federal government’s energy sector is dominated by Chinese firms, there is only one Chinese-owned company—Addax Petroleum, owned by Sinopec—operating in the Kurdistan region’s oil sector.

How this growing closeness affects US policy  

As China prioritizes securing new markets abroad and ensuring energy security at home, Iraq has become integral to Beijing’s geoeconomic ambitions and economic statecraft in the Middle East region. Over the past two decades, China’s expanding presence has begun to shape Iraq’s economic future, regional role, and relations with the United States. Baghdad now faces the delicate task of balancing ties with both powers to avoid alienating either side. There is an economic and geographical logic driving Iraq’s relationship with China. China is the world’s largest energy importer, and Iraq—one of the world’s top oil producers—naturally falls within Beijing’s orbit of interest. Iraq’s infrastructure gaps and development needs also make Chinese capital and expertise attractive, if not indispensable, while Chinese consumer goods remain affordable for most Iraqis. 

However, the broader implications of this relationship cannot be understood solely through economics. China’s increasing footprint unfolds against the backdrop of intensifying US-China rivalry and the global drift toward multipolarity. Iraq is gradually emerging as a site of subtle competition between these two powers—particularly in areas such as infrastructure (especially energy), digital networks, and potential land-based transit corridors. Yet, given the deeply interconnected nature of today’s global economy and Iraq’s heavy reliance on external actors for technology, investment, consumer products, and security, it is unrealistic to expect Iraq to de-link from either China or the United States. 

Beyond economic logic, Iraq’s deepening engagement with China reflects political calculations and rationale at the domestic, regional, and global levels. Globally, China’s ascent since the mid-2010s has offered states like Iraq an alternative pole through which to diversify partnerships and reduce dependence on the West. Engagement with Beijing thus forms part of Baghdad’s broader hedging strategy—maintaining ties with multiple global actors to avoid overreliance on any single one. 

Domestically, this orientation intensified as Shia parties consolidated unprecedented control of the Iraqi state, particularly after the war against the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) and the weakening of Kurdish autonomy and political influence in Iraqi politics after the unsuccessful Kurdish independence bid in 2017. Many among Iraq’s new Iran-backed power brokers view China as a politically neutral strategic partner—one that provides investment without demanding reforms or pressing governance conditions. At the elite level, China appears to have the upper hand in the soft-power contest with Washington concerning the appeal of the two countries and their approaches to Iraq. While Washington’s retreat from democratization and aid has eroded its image, China’s cultural outreach, development model, and messaging resonate with many Iraqis.  

The Iran factor

Regionally, openness toward China has grown since the early 2010s, amid the rise of the Iran-led Shia axis. Many dominant Iraqi Shia parties maintain deep ties with Tehran, and their affinity for China aligns with Iran’s own pursuit of a closer relationship with Beijing. Aware of the risks of being perceived as leaning too heavily toward China—and also Iran, particularly in the aftermath of the October 7, 2023, conflict between Israel and Gaza and the gradual weakening of the Iranian-led axis—Baghdad has recently sought to rebalance its approach by inviting more US investment in its energy sector. 

Iraq’s recent deals with US energy companies such as ExxonMobil, Chevron, and others reflect the recognition among the dominant Shia political class that excessive dependence on China risks political backlash and economic vulnerability, particularly as Washington intensifies efforts to contain Beijing’s global influence. This dynamic highlights the limits of hedging for resource-rich countries like Iraq that lack the structural leverage to shape regional outcomes or reduce dependence on the United States. 

It remains unclear whether Iraq’s renewed outreach to US companies signals a genuine attempt at balanced relations or a tactical effort to ease US pressure determined to squeeze Iraq as part of its maximum pressure campaign against Iran. What is clear is that China’s expanding economic role in Iraq is a growing concern for Washington. Greater Chinese market share means shrinking space for US businesses and, more broadly, a potent erosion of US influence that is more than symbolic. Given that the post-2003 Iraqi order was created through US intervention—and later saved from ISIS’s existential threat through a massive US-led coalition—China’s growing role in Iraq reflects a deeper transformation in the landscape of external influence shaping the country. 

Beijing’s digital infrastructure deals, including telecommunications and cybersecurity, could create new vulnerabilities for US-Iraq security cooperation not unlike Huawei’s engagement with Iraq under Hussein. The use of Chinese companies in strategic sectors—ports, refineries, and data networks—risks limiting the space for US and Western governments and companies’ engagement with Iraq. Crucially, Iraq’s ambitious Development Road Project (DRP) connecting the Gulf to Turkey and Europe could also intersect with China’s BRI, particularly its sea route portion, and diversify Beijing’s options for trade with the Middle East and from there to Europe. Despite a cool initial reception, Beijing now appears open to supporting the Iraqi DRP, perhaps recognizing its value in shortening overland trade routes with Europe. This all fits into China’s geoeconomic strategy, expanding trade, increasing access to critical energy resources, and creating new markets for Chinese companies. 

However, this is not the entire story. Iraq appears to follow a compartmentalized approach to relations with both the United States and China, whereby Baghdad has cultivated deeper ties with China in trade, energy, and telecommunications while remaining heavily dependent on the United States in finance, security, and diplomacy. Revenue from Iraq’s oil exports flows into the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, from which the Central Bank of Iraq withdraws regularly. Iraq’s monetary and financial systems thus remain deeply tethered to the US financial system and Washington’s oversight. Any disruption in this relationship—such as sanctions or delayed clearances—could trigger liquidity crises in Iraq’s fragile economy. 

Iraq’s security dependence on Washington also remains quite firm for now. The Iraqi security forces rely on US intelligence, equipment, and training for operations against ISIS and for broader defense needs. Advanced systems such as F-16s and Abrams tanks further anchor this relationship. Iraq sits at the intersection of three core US priorities: countering Iranian influence, stabilizing global energy markets, and—after the transformations set off by October 7, 2023—rebuilding a regional order friendly to Washington. As part of this broader regional reality security links remain important for both sides, particularly as Iraq’s Shia ruling class feel threatened by the developments over the past couple of years.  

Diplomatic asymmetry is even deeper: Iraqi prime ministers routinely seek White House invitations as symbols of legitimacy and international recognition. Since 2003, Iraqi leaders at the presidential, prime-ministerial, and foreign-ministerial levels have visited Beijing on numerous occasions, yet the only senior Chinese official of comparable rank to visit Iraq during that period was Foreign Minister Wang Yi in February 2014. Iraq invests in the relationship far more than China does. 

This produces a paradox: Iraq remains reliant on US protection but is increasingly integrated into China’s commercial ecosystem. Unless the United States expands its economic engagement, its influence will continue to erode. For much of the Shia elite, China—not the United States—is the preferred long-term partner. Yet Iraq cannot function without engagement with both in some form. Historically, Iraqi attempts to shift too far toward one camp produced destabilization, including coups during the Cold War. The country’s social, economic, and security needs, along with its geopolitical position, require a diversified and compartmentalized approach to major global powers—though not one that entails equal reliance across all sectors. 

Energy is a key arena. China is a major importer of Iraqi oil while increasingly serving as Iraq’s primary supplier of solar panels and renewable technologies. At the same time, China’s domestic energy consumption is shifting. The International Energy Agency (IEA) notes that China’s use of gasoline, jet fuel, and diesel—totaling 8.1 million bpd—declined slightly in 2024 and stood 2.5 percent below 2021 levels. As global oil demand plateaus and buyers gain greater leverage, Iraq has become increasingly anxious not to lose China as a primary customer. 

Demographic and economic trends inside Iraq are particularly important as they further push the country toward China. Rapid urbanization, high birth rates, and low incomes make Iraqi households dependent on inexpensive imported goods. China is often the only viable supplier. As Iraqi society and consumption patterns evolve, so will its economic and political tilt toward Beijing. By contrast, the United States has lost most of its non-military leverage—aside from sanctions and coercive tools—partly due to years of inconsistent engagement. Moreover, the nature of Iraq’s rentier economy, and its governance model built on patron-client relations and the informal patronage networks that sustain it, requires the rapid development of oil resources as the main pillar supporting this system. For the reasons outlined above, Chinese firms represent a more reliable option for Iraq to ensure the continued expansion of its oil sector and the conversion of those revenues into political power. 

Against this backdrop, Iraq’s trajectory suggests an ongoing use of hedging as its primary policy, albeit an uneasy one. Hedging is a strategic behavior through which a state avoids clearly aligning vis-à-vis two powerful actors, maintaining instead an in-between, ambiguous, flexible position. Over the past couple of years, the Shia Coordination Framework-led government under Sudani has noticeably embraced this posture. Yet Iraq’s hedging exercise remains constrained by internal and external pressures, particularly Iran’s influence. Tehran’s networks—militias, political allies, and economic ties—limit Baghdad’s freedom of maneuver. Other constraints include anti-normalization legislation in the Iraqi Parliament targeting Israel, which prevents Iraq from joining the Abraham Accords and expanding ties with US allies. The outcome of recent Iraqi parliamentary elections will likely reinforce this dynamic. Although Sudani’s coalition performed strongly, Iran-aligned militias and parties performed far better, ensuring that hedging will continue—but in a narrow and contested space at least for the foreseeable future. 

About the authors

Sardar Aziz, PhD, is a researcher, columnist, and adviser, and a nonresidential affiliate at the IRIS center at the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani. He is a former senior adviser to the Kurdistan Parliament in Iraq. He has worked extensively on China and Iraq.

Mohammed A. Salih is a nonresident senior fellow in the Foreign Policy Research Institute’s National Security Program and a researcher and journalist based in the United States. He holds a PhD from the University of Pennsylvania and has written extensively for more than two decades on Iraq, Kurdish, and regional affairs.

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The Iraq Initiative is driving policy-oriented programs and analysis that advance Iraq’s stability and sovereignty, regional integration, and democratic and economic development. It also aims to promote a strengthened US-Iraq partnership.

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Countering Russian escalation in space https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/countering-russian-escalation-in-space/ Wed, 21 Jan 2026 13:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=900056 Current US space policy and acquisitions are inadequate to address the growing threats from Russia in space. The United States needs a more resilient space architecture, able to withstand major-power conflict—and Russia’s designs to place a nuclear weapon in orbit. Here are fifteen recommendations to make that happen.

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Executive summary

This report’s findings are meant to guide policymakers in making important decisions about safety, security, and sustainability in the space domain, as well as to better inform the public on these issues. The report explains why current US space policy, Department of Defense (DOD) acquisition programs, and commercial integration strategies by themselves are inadequate to address the growing threats from Russia in space. The report makes the case for the development of policies, practical strategies, and more effective acquisition programs to better address a range of potential futures, considering possible space-related actions by Russia’s political leadership.

Beyond recommending changes to US declaratory policy, this report details why the United States needs a more resilient space architecture. It examines how Russia’s nuclear threat—specifically, its designs to place a nuclear weapon in orbit, in clear violation of its obligations under international law—could alter the rationale for pursuing proliferated low-Earth orbit (LEO) constellations. This report also explores the kind of space architecture the United States would need during a conflict against a major power, and how the United States can further integrate the private sector and allies in pursuit of its national security objectives. Each of these issues carries significant near-term policy and acquisition implications.

This report explains why some US policymakers might be reluctant to take the necessary coercive action to compel acquiescence by Russian political and military leaders. This reluctance is driven by a Western sense of morality and “rightness,” an inherent right of self-defense mentality, and current conceptions of international humanitarian law. US anticipatory actions seeking to deter Russian malicious actions might prove unreliable because any anticipatory action will be a political decision based upon a Western mindset and worldview. This observation underscores that deterrence by denial of benefit—including resilience and active defense—should play a substantial role in military strategies, one even more substantial than cost-imposition efforts. Additionally, assurance and reassurance efforts directed toward Chinese and Indian leadership could help dissuade potential Russian aggressive behavior and deescalate crises.

This report’s analysis illuminates important defense and force planning considerations. Its three scenarios span a catastrophic nuclear detonation (NUDET) in LEO to debris-generating anti-satellite (ASAT) weapons to less aggressive action against commercial satellites. A qualitative assessment using a detailed framework highlights the relative importance of the methods used to dissuade potential aggression while also prevailing in conflict. In priority order, the relative importance of affecting Russian leadership’s decision calculus is: deterrence by denial of benefit; assurance and reassurance; and deterrence by cost imposition.

Finally, this report provides fifteen actionable policy and defense acquisition recommendations for advancing a comprehensive and practical framework to counter potential Russian aggression and escalation in space. Should dissuasion efforts fail and conflict in space occur, it is necessary that the United States, its allies, and commercial partners fight through Russia’s irresponsible and aggressive actions in space, while working to deescalate any crisis and seek a lasting peace.

Read the full report

About the authors

John J. Klein, PhD, is a nonresident senior fellow in the Forward Defense program of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. Klein is a subject matter expert on space strategy and also instructs space policy and strategy courses at the undergraduate, graduate, and doctorate levels at several universities around Washington, DC. He routinely writes on space strategy, deterrence, and the law of armed conflict. He is the author of the books Space Warfare: Strategy, Principles and Policy, 2nd Edition (2024), Understanding Space Strategy: The Art of War in Space (2019), and Fight for the Final Frontier: Irregular Warfare in Space (2023), along with a score of other book chapters and articles.

Klein is also a retired United States Navy commander, receiving his commission through the Navy Reserve Officer Training Corps program at Georgia Tech. He served for twenty-two years as a naval flight officer, primarily flying in the S-3B Viking carrier based aircraft. Klein supported combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. His tours included service as the executive officer of Sea Control Squadron Twenty-Four and the final commanding officer of the Sea Control Weapons School.

Clementine Starling-Daniels is a vice president at Beacon Global Strategies, the former director of the Atlantic Council’s Forward Defense program, and a nonresident senior fellow at the Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. At Beacon, she advises at the intersection of national security and technology policy, helping clients navigate evolving defense, intelligence, and technology landscapes. As a national security expert, her research explores how emerging technologies and operational innovation enhance US and allied deterrence, defense, and joint warfighter capabilities amid strategic competition with China and Russia. Her work particularly focuses on space strategy and policy, and on the role of special operations and unconventional warfare in modern deterrence and conflict.

As founding director of Forward Defense, Starling-Daniels led a team advancing research and thought leadership on the future of warfare. She spearheaded bipartisan commissions on Defense Innovation Adoption and Software-Defined Warfare, developing approaches to leverage technologies—including AI, hypersonics, autonomy, and space systems—to solve complex defense challenges. Earlier in her career, she served as deputy director of the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, guiding task forces on NATO force posture, military mobility, contested logistics, and Arctic security. She also supported NATO’s Public Diplomacy Division during key summits and gained extensive experience in NATO and EU defense policy and industrial cooperation.

Acknowledgements

This report was produced in accord with the Atlantic Council’s policy on intellectual independence, which states that the Atlantic Council and its staff, fellows, and directors generate their own ideas and programming, consistent with the Council’s mission, their related body of work, and the independent records of the participating team members. The Council as an organization does not adopt or advocate positions on particular matters. The Council’s publications always represent the views of the author(s) rather than those of the institution.

The Atlantic Council maintains strict intellectual independence for all of its projects and publications. Council staff, fellows, and directors and those who the Council engages to work on specific projects, are responsible for generating and communicating intellectual content resulting from Council projects. The Council requires all donors to agree to the Council maintaining independent control of the content and conclusions of any products resulting from sponsored projects. The Council also discloses sources of financial support in its annual reports to ensure transparency.

This report does not necessarily reflect the views of the US Department of Defense, the US Department of the Air Force, or any other institution with which either of the co-authors or any of the contributors are now, or have in the past been, affiliated.

The co-authors acknowledge with gratitude the sponsorship of the Smith Richardson Foundation for this project.

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A three-billion-person challenge: The rising global market for financial leaders https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/a-three-billion-person-challenge-the-rising-global-market-for-financial-leaders/ Wed, 14 Jan 2026 14:30:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=897244 Financial-sector policymakers and financial service providers are facing both a real challenge and unique opportunity to drive economic inclusion for about three billion people and spur growth toward the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

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Executive summary

Financial-sector policymakers and financial service providers are facing both a real challenge and unique opportunity to drive economic inclusion for about three billion people and spur growth toward the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

The good news from the World Bank’s Global Findex Database 2025 is that 79 percent of adults globally and 75 percent in low- and middle-income economies (LMIEs) now have a financial account of some kind. Mobile phones are even more ubiquitous, with 86 percent of adults globally and 84 percent in LMIEs having one, which in most contexts can be used to access financial services. This means about four out of every five people have the potential to save safely and borrow prudently to meet their financial needs and the potential to pay and be paid digitally. This is good news for the individuals, their families, and for these economies because, as the IMF has found,
financial inclusion serves as a catalyst for both economic participation and inclusive growth.

However, the majority of adults in LMIEs that have a financial account do not yet fully engage with the formal financial sector. Only 40 percent of adults in LMIEs (on average) saved formally and only 24 percent of adults in LMIEs (on average) borrowed from a formal financial service provider in the last year and even they do not necessarily have the type of credit they need.1 There are, therefore, about three billion people who could actively engage in the formal financial sector, and they present both a challenge for financial sector leaders and an opportunity for accelerating inclusive growth.

The main reasons adults in LMIEs do not use formal digital financial services are affordability, lack of trust in service providers, and lack of products to meet their needs. Rapid advances in digital public infrastructure (DPI) and artificial intelligence (AI) have the potential to directly tackle these challenges. Together they can reduce costs, increase trust, and tailor products for individuals, thereby improving lives and driving growth:

  • DPI has been endorsed by the Group of Twenty since India’s presidency in 2023.2 Ninety-seven countries now have DPI-like digital payments; sixty-four countries have digital IDs, and 103 have data exchange—together reducing costs and increasing trust.3
  • AI, by cheaply analyzing massive data sets, is turbocharging cost reduction and product tailoring, which translates into greater affordability and access for people on lower incomes.4

Yet, there are potentially problematic aspects to these exciting innovations. DPI has the potential for loss of data privacy (if privacy by design is not embedded), for rent extraction (if not an open-source platform), and for government surveillance (if DPI safeguards are not central).5 AI has the potential to turbocharge fraud, scams, and identity theft and compromise trust.6

Therefore, government financial-sector regulators and policymakers have urgent and important decisions to make about how to enact and enforce responsible guardrails in the financial ecosystem. These guardrails are essential so new customers have affordable, appropriate products, can trust their money and data are safe, and have effective recourse mechanisms if problems occur. National coordination at the highest level is essential, regional approaches including policy harmonization can be cost-effective, and urgency is imperative. Financial-service leaders also have key decisions to make about how to design affordable and responsible financial products that build trust, enable resilience, and foster financial well-being and economic growth. There is now a unique opportunity for financial-sector leaders to unleash economic potential for three billion people and accelerate inclusive growth.

Read the full report

About the author

Ruth Goodwin-Groen is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s GeoEconomics Center. Goodwin-Groen brings thirty years of strategic and technical leadership in financial-sector development and financial inclusion in emerging markets to her current consulting practice, Goodwin-Groen Consulting. Her focus is on responsible digital financial inclusion and equality in financial services for women.

Goodwin-Groen is best known as the founding managing director of the United Nations-hosted Better Than Cash Alliance, which created a global movement from cash to responsible digital payments to achieve the Sustainable Development Goals. Alliance members and partners include over 113 governments, 229 companies, and most of the UN—accounting for over 90 percent of global gross domestic product.

Goodwin-Groen has a PhD in financial-sector development from the University of Bath, an MBA with distinction from Harvard Business School, and a Bachelor of Science with Honors from the University of Western Australia.

Acknowledgements

The author extends special thanks to those providing expert input on this paper: Isabelle Carboni, Expert Consultant; Eric Duflos, CGAP; Nicole Goldin, United Nations University-Centre for Policy Research & Atlantic Council; Leora Klapper, World Bank; David Porteous, Integral: Governance solutions; and Camilo Tellez-Merchan, Gates Foundation. She also deeply appreciates the input of Atlantic Council colleagues Josh Lipsky, Sophia Busch, and Juliet Lancey as well as those who contributed to the findings and recommendations of this report through their participation in two roundtable discussions at the Atlantic Council in April and October of 2025. See the Appendix for a list of the participants. This report was made possible in part by a grant from Tala.

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1    Klapper et al., The Global Findex Database 2025, xxxiii, 152, 154, 218.
3    “The Digital Public Infrastructure Map,” DPI Mapping Project, https://dpimap.org/.
4    Sophie Sirtaine, “AI’s Promise: A New Era for Financial Inclusion,” CGAP Leadership Essay Series blog, CGAP, April 4, 2025, https://www.cgap.org/blog/ais-promise-new-era-for-financial-inclusion.
5    Zoran Jordanoski, “Safeguarding Digital Public Infrastructure: A Global Imperative for Sustainable Development,” United Nations
University Operating Unit on Policy-Driven Electronic Governance, July 9, 2025, https://unu.edu/egov/article/safeguarding-digital-public-infrastructure-global-imperative-sustainable-development.
6    Eric Duflos, “AI and Responsible Finance: A Double-Edged Sword,” AI and the Future of Financial Inclusion blog series, CGAP,
April 29, 2025, https://www.cgap.org/blog/ai-and-responsible-finance-double-edged-sword.

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Digital sovereignty: Europe’s declaration of independence? https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/digital-sovereignty-europes-declaration-of-independence/ Wed, 14 Jan 2026 14:27:11 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=896219 In Brussels, "digital sovereignty" may be the new "strategic autonomy": a push for Europe to go its own way and depend less on the United States. As US tech companies and EU regulators clash, catch up on a policy debate with consequences playing out online and in the halls of power.

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Bottom lines up front

  • In 2025, the Trump administration’s open hostility to the EU and close connections with tech CEOs brought long-simmering transatlantic tensions over how to regulate Big Tech to a boil. 
  • The effect so far has been to accelerate the EU’s quest to break its dependence on Silicon Valley and China.
  • Washington’s combative posture toward EU tech regulation sets the stage for more conflict that could imperil the $1.5-trillion trading relationship.

Table of contents

Introduction

Over the past several years, the concept of digital sovereignty has become ever more central to European notions of competitiveness and economic resilience. Formerly a niche idea within the digital policy community, it has now gone mainstream with major European leaders, from European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen to former head of the European Central Bank Mario Draghi, calling for the European Union to achieve digital sovereignty.1 It has also become integral to European debates about technological sovereignty and strategic autonomy, and even to trade policy. And as digital sovereignty has become more prominent in European discussions, it has shifted from being a vague aspiration to a concept that EU policymakers increasingly seek to put into operation—raising the possibility of future EU restrictions on procurement from companies outside Europe, as well as other regulatory measures.

Yet, despite its growing centrality in European digital debates, digital sovereignty still does not have a clear definition.2 At times, it seems to have been encompassed by the broader term of tech sovereignty, which reflects the EU’s desire to boost its industrial capabilities—not only in the digital space, but also in renewables and other green and future technologies. European policymakers also regularly refer to data sovereignty and cloud sovereignty, which can be seen as focused on particular aspects of digital sovereignty.

What all these definitions share, however, is the notion that Europe and its economy should be less dependent on others and more capable of protecting its own interests, including its interests in the digital sphere. That leads to the key unresolved questions at the heart of digital sovereignty. Does sovereignty require an economic approach that is exclusively European or, at minimum, favors European companies? Is ownership or effective control over key companies important, or is a risk-based system more appropriate? Is it desirable to limit sovereign requirements to certain sectors of the economy? Can Europe achieve a measure of sovereignty as part of a common enterprise among international partners? And if the partnership model is acceptable, who are the partners?

The transatlantic relationship is, in turn, entangled with Europe’s internal debate about digital sovereignty. Until recently, this has been an evenly divided contest, with some European experts calling for Europe to strategically decouple from the dominance of US companies, while others—including most member-state governments—have noted the lack of local alternatives and hesitated to discriminate against US and other non-EU companies.

But the Trump administration’s initial open hostility to the EU and continuing general unpredictability have caused even the most transatlantic of EU leaders to question the reliability of the United States. The July 2025 US-EU trade deal provided some temporary clarity and predictability in transatlantic commercial relations, although digital issues were addressed in only limited ways. President Donald Trump’s Truth Social post a few weeks later, threatening additional tariffs on countries with “Digital Taxes, Digital Services Legislation, and Digital Markets regulations [that] are all designed to harm, or discriminate against American Technology,” was immediately criticized by the European Commission, France, Germany, and others as a violation of Europe’s sovereignty.3 Nevertheless, during a November 2025 visit to Brussels, Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick directly linked the removal of EU digital regulation with a potential US-EU agreement on steel and aluminum tariffs.4

Given Trump’s close connections with leading tech executives, the US administration’s combative posture toward European tech regulation is likely to continue being a point of transatlantic friction. Whether a continued focus by the Trump administration on Europe’s digital rules will create an even stronger push in Europe for an exclusive form of digital sovereignty is not yet evident. What is clear is that without some guidelines, such as those offered in the conclusions to this report, the European Union and United States might find that their differences regarding digital sovereignty and digital rules make creating and maintaining an open transatlantic digital marketplace much more challenging.

Defining the terms of the debate

One reason why digital sovereignty has become an increasingly inflammatory label across the Atlantic is that the lack of a clear definition allows everyone to define it in ways that support their own arguments. Its rise has also coincided with the European embrace of strategic autonomy in foreign and security policy—a notion that has predictably ruffled some US feathers, especially in the defense community. Further confusion has developed as similar terms (i.e., tech sovereignty, cloud sovereignty) have emerged in related areas. To introduce some clarity into this discussion, it can be useful to categorize these different notions.

  • Strategic autonomy: First arising in the context of foreign and security policy, strategic autonomy refers primarily to Europe developing defense and foreign policy capabilities that would allow the EU to play a more independent geopolitical role. Aside from a few defense funding efforts, the idea has not yet inspired major legislative initiatives. To indicate that partnership and autonomy were not contradictory, the EU later adopted the related idea of open strategic autonomy in trade policy. More recently, the EU has begun to embrace the concept of regulatory autonomy—the idea that “the Union’s values, interests, and regulatory autonomy underpin EU action, including in the digital sphere.”5 In these notions, autonomy is a more ambiguous and flexible concept than sovereignty, which implies a legal order backed by legislative initiatives.
  • Technological sovereignty: While the first European Commission headed by von der Leyen focused largely on legislation related to the online world, the importance of technologies—and Europe’s reliance on Chinese and US technologies—had come to the fore by the end of that mandate. This was not only about the digital world, but crucially about the European Green Deal. While the commission argued that carbon reduction would be key to the future EU economy, it became woefully clear that Europe remained dependent on others for many essential technologies: solar panels, wind turbines, semiconductors, electric vehicle batteries, etc.

    Thus, in the second von der Leyen commission, the position of executive vice president for tech sovereignty, security, and democracy was created to oversee the development of EU capabilities to support the digital agenda. Others in the commission, including Executive Vice Presidents Teresa Ribera and Stéphane Séjourné, were tasked with strengthening EU technological capabilities across the Green Deal and industrial strategy generally. In June 2025, a key European Parliament committee defined tech sovereignty as “the ability to build capacity, resilience and security by reducing strategic dependencies, preventing reliance on foreign actors and single service providers, and safeguarding critical technologies and infrastructure.”6 Unlike strategic autonomy, however, tech sovereignty underlies significant legislative initiatives, from the Net Zero Industry Act and the Critical Raw Materials Act to the Public Procurement Directives. It also entails a strong focus on industrial policy, including state aid, competition policy, and other means of boosting key tech-related industries.
  • Digital sovereignty: While often used interchangeably with tech sovereignty, digital sovereignty focuses primarily on the online world. Legislation such as the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), Digital Services Act (DSA), Digital Markets Act (DMA), and Artificial Intelligence Act (AIA) have sought to establish a comprehensive system of governance for the online world, especially by regulating corporate behavior vis-à-vis individual or business users. With the exception of semiconductors and the EU Chips Act, much less attention has been paid to the technologies that enable the online world. However, recent proposals for a Eurostack—a European capacity to provide all elements of digital infrastructure, from cables to cloud—are indications of growing European concern about both governance and technologies.7
  • Data sovereignty: This subset of digital sovereignty—one of the earliest variants—initially focused primarily on protection of personal data under the GDPR. However, with the Data Act and other initiatives, increased attention is now paid to the re-use of industrial data that are either sensitive or commercially valuable, and to safeguarding the capacity of EU businesses and governments to exploit data generated in Europe.
  • Cloud sovereignty: The proliferation of data requires enhanced storage capabilities and increased focus on cloud storage and the security of data stored in the cloud. An increasingly sharp debate has centered on whether Europeans’ data should be stored exclusively within the EU, or whether they can be stored outside the EU by non-EU providers considered trustworthy and secure. This discussion has accelerated with the growth of artificial intelligence (AI) and its enormous requirements for cloud services and data centers. Cloud sovereignty also poses questions about how Europeans’ data can be accessed by foreign law enforcement and intelligence agencies.
  • Sovereignty over speech: Users of online services today confront a wide array of illegal or undesirable content, from child sexual abuse material to advertisements for illegal products to political disinformation. EU efforts to regulate platforms’ responsibility for illegal content and systemic risks have recently sparked criticism from the Trump administration, which regards aspects of these efforts as violations of free speech.8 Who has the right to determine allowable speech available online in a jurisdiction other than where it was produced?
  • Cybersecurity: Given the ever-growing number of cyberattacks, both in Europe and globally, the protection of the online world has become a growing element in digital sovereignty. In the past, cybersecurity had not been central to the debate about digital sovereignty, but since the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 there has been a rapidly growing understanding that resilience against such attacks is an essential part of sovereignty. Europe in particular has faced numerous attacks from Russia and related online actors. The EU effort to establish standards for cybersecurity has already led to US-EU tensions, but there will likely be even more attention paid to cyber-proofing as the EU operationalizes its concept of sovereignty.

An increasingly sharp debate has centered on whether Europeans’ data should be stored exclusively within the EU.

As part of the growing effort to operationalize digital sovereignty, both EU institutions and member states have initiated efforts to elaborate the meaning of this elusive concept. The European Council, in formal conclusions to its October 23 meeting, declared, “It is crucial to advance Europe’s digital transformation, reinforce its sovereignty, and strengthen its own open digital ecosystem,” adding that “this requires reinforced international partnerships and close collaboration with trusted partner countries.”9

On November 18, 2025, the French and German governments convened a Summit on European Digital Sovereignty. The summit identified several areas for building digital sovereignty, including AI, data, and public infrastructure, and launched a joint task force on European digital sovereignty to report in 2026.10 Its final declaration underscored the EU member states’ “shared ambition to strengthen Europe’s digital sovereignty in an open manner as a cornerstone of our economic resilience, social prosperity, competitiveness and security.”11

The European Commission, for its part, issued a Cloud Sovereignty Framework in September 2025 that identifies eight types of sovereignty-related objectives to be considered in the government procurement context. In a stab at precision, the framework encourages contracting authorities to assign each objective a sovereignty effective assurance level (SEAL). The results of that assessment should provide a mathematically derived sovereignty score.12 But as EU discussions on this topic progress, there are still key differences among the member states about the choice between strict autonomy or international partnerships, and whether the model should be based on exclusive EU control or on risk management.

European officials at the Summit on European Digital Sovereignty in Berlin, November 18, 2025. REUTERS/Nadja Wohlleben.
The EU’S Cloud Security Framework, published in October 2025, lays out eight “sovereignty objectives” for procurement authorities to score as they decide what cloud services and products to buy. Source: Cloud Security Framework, European Commission.

Europe’s missing Silicon Valley

While many non-European observers would say that the EU’s regulatory power already gives it significant influence domestically and externally, the EU’s sovereignty in the European digital arena is vulnerable at best. Despite its role as a regulatory superpower, Europe finds itself reliant on non-EU companies for many essential elements of the digital world. A European Parliament report estimates that “the EU relies on non-EU countries for over 80% of digital products, services, infrastructure, and intellectual property.”13 This perception of dependency is at the heart of the EU push for digital sovereignty.

The EU has failed to develop a tech sector with either the vibrancy of Silicon Valley or the growing capabilities of China’s industry. In particular, Europe has not seen the emergence of world-leading new companies based on digital technologies. Indeed, while the US industry has created six companies with a market capitalization of €1 trillion or more, the EU has created none.14 In 2021, three US cloud companies supplied 65 percent of the EU cloud market, while EU-headquartered companies had less than 16 percent.15 As a consequence, European consumers and businesses must rely on non-EU companies—mostly US and some Chinese enterprises—for basic digital services. Initially, this largely applied to software, social media, search engines, and a wide array of shopping services. More recently, the importance of cloud, encryption, and AI, along with the prospective emergence of super-fast quantum computing, has made Europeans realize that this dependence on others has significant and potentially long-lasting effects on their own industries and economies, including those far beyond the tech sector. 

Despite its role as a regulatory superpower, Europe finds itself reliant on non-EU companies for many essential elements of the digital world.

Of course, a few European companies are exceptions to these trends. Nokia and Ericsson were already leaders in the cables and fiber optics that are key to connectivity. They became even stronger in the market as concerns rose about the security of Chinese components. The Dutch company ASML has been a leader in the machines required to make the semiconductors that guide and manage so much of the digital world. SAP is the world’s largest vendor of enterprise resource planning software. But these European companies are not in the same league as their US equivalents in terms of market capitalization. For example, ASML has a market capitalization of $376 billion, while Nvidia is at $4.3 trillion and Microsoft is at $3.8 trillion.16

One consequence of Europe’s struggle in the digital marketplace has been the emergence of an EU-wide debate on competitiveness, as represented most prominently by the reports by former Italian Prime Minister Enrico Letta and former head of the European Central Bank Mario Draghi.17 Draghi specifically underlined the importance of Europe’s failure to develop an innovative tech sector by noting the increasing productivity gap between the EU and the United States, with European labor productivity falling to 80 percent of US productivity. He concluded that this was mainly due to “Europe’s failure to capitalise on the first digital revolution led by the internet—both in terms of generating new tech companies and diffusing digital tech into the economy.”18

The competitiveness debate has also sought to identify the causes of Europe’s lack of digital champions. Europe has a vibrant startup community, as demonstrated by the growing role of venture capital.19 But many of these innovative enterprises end up moving to the United States or elsewhere, while others fail to commercialize entirely. The most popular rationale for this failure to scale—cited by US and European analysts, including Draghi—is overregulation.20 Other suggested reasons include a chronic lack of indigenous capital, overly strict bankruptcy laws, and a culture that fears failure.21 Whatever the reason, Europe’s inability to provide the resources and capabilities for its innovative companies to become continental champions, let alone world leaders, means it must rely on companies from elsewhere.

US Ambassador to the EU Andrew Puzder discusses disparities between major companies founded in the United States and the EU at the 2025 Transatlantic Forum on GeoEconomics, in Brussels, on September 30, 2025. Nicolas Lobet, PRYZM photography.
European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen holds former head of the European Central Bank Mario Draghi’s report on EU competitiveness at a September 2024 press conference in Brussels. Draghi’s report concluded that Europe failed to capitalize on the emergence of the internet to increase productivity. REUTERS/Yves Herman.

This was already the case in 2018, when the GDPR—the first major piece of EU digital legislation—came into force. During the next five years of von der Leyen’s first term as commission president, the EU passed several other pieces of digital legislation, most notably the DSA, DMA, and AIA. These measures made progress in harmonizing diverse member-state laws, both existing and anticipated. But while EU leaders saw this body of legislation as protecting their citizens from the excesses of data collection and illegal social media content, many outside the EU, especially in the US tech community, viewed these laws as overly burdensome at best and discriminatory at worst. Some EU policymakers, such as Member of the European Parliament (MEP) Andreas Schwab, early on were open about their desire to counter the dominance of US firms.22 Others, however, saw Europe as offering a positive alternative to the lightly regulated environment tech companies faced elsewhere. EU rules inevitably had the most impact on US companies, which provided the overwhelming majority of digital services in the EU market. Chinese companies also came to feel the impact of EU regulations as their market share grew over time, especially in shopping and social media.

Throughout this period of intense legislative activity, there were clear voices calling for greater digital sovereignty in Europe. The body of legislation passed in the first von der Leyen commission can certainly be viewed as an effort to place limits on the US companies that dominate Europe’s digital space—and as a way for Europe to regain some control, or sovereignty, over that market. But as competitiveness emerged as a top EU priority in 2023, the discussion about digital sovereignty became part of a much broader discussion about innovation and economic security.

Geopolitics and the rise of tech sovereignty

The earliest indication of a geopolitical element to EU digital sovereignty came during the first Trump administration, when the United States protested the use of Huawei components in European digital networks. Reluctantly at first, Europeans came to understand the risk of a Chinese capability to disrupt those networks and developed the EU Toolbox for 5G Security, a list of best practices released in January 2020. The toolbox identified states and state-backed actors as the most serious threats. It also set out criteria for identifying trusted versus untrusted vendors, including closeness to a foreign government, lack of democratic accountability in that government, lack of a data protection agreement with the EU, and ability of the third country to exercise pressure on the EU.23

The toolbox was the first real effort to identify foreign companies and governments that might threaten Europe’s digital sovereignty and those that might not. There was clearly a focus on China and Chinese companies, as demonstrated by the criteria for vendors. But it should be noted that the toolbox is primarily voluntary guidance developed by the member states for themselves, with progress tracked by regular EU Commission reporting.

In 2019, the EU identified China as both an economic competitor and a “systemic rival,” but initially with little consequence, especially in terms of economic relations.24 Over the next few years, the EU would increasingly focus on China and the dangers posed by its investments in the European economy, especially in critical European infrastructure. By March 2023, when von der Leyen called for de-risking Europe from China,25 commission officials had identified a number of EU dependencies on China—including in critical raw materials, solar panels, and batteries—that had the power to disrupt European industry.26 In June 2023, the commission reported that it considered Huawei and ZTE “materially higher risks” than other fifth-generation (5G) suppliers.27

The EU also initiated a few measures to address those vulnerabilities: heightened screening of inward foreign investment, primarily at the member-state level; enactment of the European Chips Act, providing funding for advanced semiconductor manufacturing in Europe; adoption of the Critical Raw Materials Act, which established goals for EU production of key materials; and passage of the Net Zero Industry Act, which sought to build EU manufacturing capacity in clean technologies such as solar, batteries, and hydrogen. While these measures were not aimed only at China, concerns about that country’s ambitious global plans were a main motivation. Moreover, they had the effect of broadening the initially limited discussion of digital sovereignty beyond the realm of digital governance to include both digital and green technologies, resulting in a broader focus on technological sovereignty.

This European debate regarding the geopolitical dimensions of sovereignty—both digital and tech—intensified significantly following the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Along with a focus on territorial security, as seen in the increased defense spending of most EU member states, the EU realized that it needed to address other vulnerabilities. Most urgently, the invasion led to a swift and drastic shift in Europe’s energy supply, as Russia went from providing 45 percent of Europe’s oil and gas in 2021 to 19 percent in 2024.28 But the digital arena was also vulnerable: Russian cyberattacks and apparent sabotage against undersea cables demonstrated the dangers facing Europe’s digital infrastructure, while Russian-origin disinformation flooded European social media.

Perhaps the most important consequence of the Russian invasion, however, was the realization that Europe was vulnerable and that preserving its sovereignty—digital and otherwise—would require concrete actions. Many of the green technology initiatives mentioned above were still in the legislative process when the invasion began but moved to enactment by mid-2023 as the commission’s term began to close and as Europeans became even more conscious of those vulnerabilities. Competitiveness, resilience, and sovereignty became linked together in the concept of economic security as the EU sought to reduce its external dependencies, especially on Russia and China.

By the end of 2024, the tech sovereignty impulse in Europe had become a key policy priority, as demonstrated by the appointment of Henna Virkkunen to the new position of European Commission executive vice president for tech sovereignty, security, and democracy. But before the second von der Leyen commission could get its program under way—or make progress in implementing the Draghi report—Trump’s reelection as US president pushed the impulse toward European digital sovereignty into hyperdrive.

Trump actions spur renewed calls for greater independence

European suspicions about US intentions and capabilities in the digital world have existed since 2013, when Edward Snowden revealed the extent of US National Security Agency interception of Europeans’ communications. Nevertheless, the United States and EU enjoyed relatively open trade in digital services. The advent of the second Trump administration, however, has energized the transatlantic debate over digital sovereignty. While Trump’s focus during the 2024 campaign was on the EU’s trade in goods surplus with the United States, once back in office he frequently criticized the EU’s digital regulations as a whole, despite the US surplus in services trade driven by the success of US tech companies.

Only a month after Trump’s January 2025 inauguration, the White House issued a memorandum on “Defending American Companies and Innovators from Overseas Extortion and Unfair Fines and Penalties,” calling for tariffs and other responses in cases “where a foreign government, through its tax or regulatory structure, imposes a fine, penalty, tax, or other burden that is discriminatory, disproportionate, or designed to transfer significant funds or intellectual property.”29 The memo specifically highlighted “regulations imposed on United States companies by foreign governments that could inhibit the growth or intended operation of United States companies.”30 It also called for the US trade representative to determine whether to renew Section 301 investigations of several digital service taxes (DSTs), including those adopted in France, Austria, Italy, and Spain. The fact sheet accompanying the memo made clear that the target was the European Union and specifically “regulations that dictate how American companies interact with consumers in the European Union, like the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act, will face scrutiny from the Administration.”31

Such an aggressive approach brought the issue of digital sovereignty to the fore, as it seemed to disregard the EU’s right to regulate its own market. As the United States and EU pursued a trade agreement, there were conflicting reports as to whether the DSA and DMA (as well as other EU regulations) were on the negotiating table.32 In the end, the joint statement published on August 21, 2025, did not mention either regulation or the DSTs adopted by several EU member states.

But the joint statement was hardly the last word. On August 25, Trump posted on Truth Social: “As the President of the United States, I will stand up to Countries that attack our incredible American Tech Companies. Digital Taxes, Digital Services Legislation, and Digital Markets Regulations are all designed to harm, or discriminate against, American Technology.”33 Meanwhile von der Leyen, in her September 2025 State of the Union speech, defended the trade deal but also stated: “Whether on environmental or digital regulation, we set our own standards. We set our own regulations. Europe will always decide for itself.”34

The Trump administration has continued criticizing EU digital regulation. For example, on December 16, US Trade Representative Jamieson Greer posted on X (formerly Twitter) that the EU had “persisted in a continuing course of discriminatory and harassing lawsuits, taxes, fines, and directives against U.S. service providers,” and suggested that the United States would retaliate.35 It would be relatively easy for the administration to renew the Section 301 investigations of DSTs. The US government might also look for a mechanism to counter the impact of the DSA and DMA, especially if US companies are fined significantly under those laws. On April 23, 2025, the European Commission fined Apple and Meta €500 million and €200 million, respectively, for noncompliance with the DMA.36 In September, Google was fined €2.95 billion for “distorting competition in the advertising technology industry,” although this case was pursued under the European Commission’s long-time competition authorities rather than under the DMA.37

The commission is also investigating X as well as Meta’s Facebook and Instagram for alleged violations of the DSA, along with separate probes of the Chinese firms AliExpress, Temu, and Tiktok, and several European-based online pornography platforms. On December 5, 2025, the Commission fined X €120 million under the DSA for issues related to its blue checkmarks and advertising repository.38 Beyond these specific cases, the growing criticism of Europe from the US executive branch and parts of Congress, which claim it is censoring “free speech,” is an indication that an influential segment of the Republican Party in the United States will continue to push for action against European efforts to moderate digital content. The EU has been a key target, as has the United Kingdom with its Online Safety Act.

US Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick and US Trade Representative Jamieson Greer speak after a meeting with the EU Trade Ministers Council in Brussels on November 24, 2025. Lutnick suggested that the EU “reconsider” some digital regulations if the bloc wanted the United States to reduce tariffs on EU steel and aluminum. REUTERS/Piroschka van de Wouw.

At the same time, the European Commission has embarked on a process of simplifying some regulations as part of an effort to make the EU economy more competitive. A digital omnibus—a legislative package designed to amend several regulations across a sector simultaneously—was presented on November 19, 2025.39 As with other commission proposals for simplifying regulations, the digital omnibus focuses on reducing requirements for small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), along with streamlining reporting in cases of cybersecurity incidents. It also proposes delaying implementation of AIA requirements for high-risk systems until relevant guidance has been issued and calls for “targeted amendments” to the GDPR to boost innovation, including that related to AI training.40 While simplification is likely to reduce the regulatory burden on tech companies in Europe—including large US companies—it has not yet addressed issues related to digital sovereignty.

Apart from potential revisions to existing legislation, the commission plans to move forward on two tracks. First, the second von der Leyen commission anticipates deploying more financial resources to support research on emerging technologies such as AI and quantum. Early in 2025, von der Leyen announced InvestAI, an initiative to raise €200 billion in investment capital.41 The EU also plans, through the 2025 EU Startup and ScaleUp Strategy, to support startups in their search for the funding that will allow them to grow.42 While these funds should be viewed with some caution—it is unclear whether sufficient private funds will join this public-private effort—they demonstrate the EU’s commitment to building its own capabilities.

Second, the commission has made clear that it will continue to pursue new rules governing activities and companies in the digital arena. The Financial Data Access (FiDA) regulation, now in the final stage of negotiations, is intended to allow greater sharing of financial data among financial institutions in order to develop new digital financial products for consumers. European legacy banks have launched an effort to exclude those companies designated as gatekeepers under the Digital Markets Act from participation in FiDA; this effort will primarily affect US tech companies.43

The EU Cloud and AI Development Act (CADA) will attempt to address the EU’s shortcomings in cloud and AI capacity by encouraging the permitting of new data centers and other infrastructure, and by providing greater computational capacity and resources to startups, especially those focused on AI. But it is also expected to establish EU-wide eligibility requirements for cloud service providers, along with harmonized procurement processes, in ways that could restrict participation by non-EU companies. It is not clear yet whether CADA will address concerns through risk-based assurance models or ownership restrictions. It has reportedly been delayed until the first quarter of 2026 as the commission considers the concept of European effective control as a way of supporting EU digital sovereignty.44

The Digital Fairness Act, expected to be introduced in mid-2026, will be the EU’s flagship legislation for business-to-consumer relations and will address protection of minors online, transparent online pricing, the abuses of manipulative and addictive design, and marketing by influencers—all of which are likely to be of significant interest to US platforms. Other initiatives expected to be launched in the next eighteen months include the ICT Supply Chain Toolbox, the Quantum Europe Strategy, and the Digital Networks Act. Finally, the European Data Union Strategy, released on November 19 along with the digital omnibus, establishes the ambition of “safeguarding the EU’s data sovereignty through a strategic international data policy.”45 It aims to do this by “making fair conditions for data access and cross-border transfer . . . protecting sensitive EU non-personal data . . . and deepening cooperation with trusted partners.”46 While a strategy is not a legislative document, we can expect that it will help guide EU policy on international data flows.

The European Parliament is also active in the digital sovereignty debate. MEP Axel Voss, one of the parliament’s leaders on these issues, wrote in an October 2025 post on LinkedIn: “We need immediate decisions to regain a digitally competitive and sovereign EU. Eurostack, deregulation, venture capital, chips, energy, access to quality data and a flourishing environment for Start Ups and creators are crucial for our sovereignty.47 He proposes a number of measures, from digital special economic zones to using only EU programs within EU institutions to integrating “buy and deploy European tech” in public procurement.48

These initiatives will undoubtedly continue to have an impact on the transatlantic relationship, as they will affect the major actors in the market, most of them American. Even with the best of intentions—and no ambition to exclude those companies—EU adoption and implementation of such rules will likely raise questions about the openness of its future market and the participation of non-EU firms.

The next section explores how the United States and EU have wrestled with the competing pressures of sovereignty and open markets, as presented by a set of key issues relating to government access to data.

Snowden’s relevations and the ‘kill switch

More than a decade has passed since the Snowden revelations, but the topic continues to shadow transatlantic digital relations. Many in Europe hailed Snowden as a hero for revealing Europe’s vulnerability to US signals intelligence, and the European Parliament invited him to appear and speak at a plenary meeting. The Obama administration, which charged Snowden under the Espionage Act, objected vehemently to the invitation and, in the end, Snowden addressed the parliament only by video link.49 Now, however, US domestic sentiment regarding Snowden’s actions has begun to shift, at least in Republican circles, as several of Trump’s advisers have called for him to be pardoned.50

Snowden’s disclosures started a chain of legal proceedings in Europe that generated substantial uncertainty among companies about the legality of their indispensable transfers of personal data to the United States. The Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) twice invalidated EU-US international transfer arrangements, judging them insufficient to protect Europeans’ fundamental rights. In 2015, the court struck down the EU-US Safe Harbor Framework, and a successor arrangement, the Privacy Shield, met the same fate in 2020.51 Meta, the object of the litigation both times, took the issue seriously enough that it publicly conceded to US securities regulators that it might need to withdraw Facebook and Instagram from Europe if it could not legally transfer data to the United States.52

A third arrangement, the EU-US Data Privacy Framework (DPF), concluded in 2023, put significant additional safeguards in place for Europeans’ personal data when they are transferred to the United States. It has stabilized the situation, at least for the time being. On September 3, 2025, the EU General Court rejected a challenge to the DPF brought by Philippe Latombe, a French parliamentarian.53 The case tested the sufficiency of US legal reforms made to overcome the CJEU’s 2020 judgment on the Privacy Shield. The court rejected claims that a redress mechanism created by the agreement lacked independence within the US legal system. It also validated the sufficiency of US safeguards relating to the collection of bulk data for intelligence purposes. Latombe has appealed the General Court verdict to the Court of Justice, however, so a definitive verdict on the fate of DPF has yet to be issued.54

The European privacy advocacy organization None of Your Business (NOYB)—headed by well-known Austrian privacy activist Max Schrems, who brought the 2015 and 2020 CJEU cases—reacted with disbelief to the Latombe ruling. Schrems drew attention to Trump administration actions against the independence of the US Privacy and Civil Liberties Oversight Board (PCLOB) and the Federal Trade Commission (FTC). He also said that he is mulling bringing a second challenge to the DPF in EU courts.55

US cloud service providers, including Amazon Web Services and Microsoft, have responded to European unease over data transfers to the United States by introducing service features that allow enterprise customers to store certain types of data exclusively on servers located on the continent.56 Offering to localize data in this fashion can reassure European customers concerned about the long arm of US government’s potential access to their data.

However, the Trump administration exacerbated European anxiety over data flows to and from the United States by briefly cutting off Ukraine from US intelligence sharing in early 2025.57 The specter of a US government kill switch—in the form of an order to US cloud providers to stop commercial data transfers to Europe—has spurred further efforts by US cloud providers to reassure their European customers. Brad Smith, Microsoft’s vice chair and president, went so far as to issue a public statement in April that, “In the unlikely event we are ever ordered by any government anywhere in the world to suspend or cease cloud operations in Europe, we are committing that Microsoft will promptly and vigorously contest such a measure using all legal avenues available, including by pursuing litigation in court.”58

In the unlikely event we are ever ordered by any government anywhere in the world to suspend or cease cloud operations in Europe, we are committing that Microsoft will promptly and vigorously contest such a measure using all legal avenues available, including by pursuing litigation in court.

Brad Smith, “Microsoft Announces New European Digital Commitments,” Microsoft, April 30, 2025, https://blogs.microsoft.com/on-the-issues/2025/04/30/european-digital-commitments.

In response, some European companies have spied a business opportunity. For example, the German company Ecosia and its French counterpart Qwant announced their intention to build a European web index called European Search Perspective (ESP) to compete with Google’s search engine.59 Ecosia’s chief executive officer (CEO) cited concern about the political winds blowing in the United States: “With the US election turning out as it has, I think there is an increased fear that the future US president will do things that we as Europeans don’t like very much . . . We, as a European community, just need to make sure that nobody can blackmail us.” He also emphasized Europe’s current dependence on Google’s services: “If the US turned off access to search results tomorrow, we would have to go back to phone books.”60

The European dream of regaining data sovereignty by generating companies that can compete with the US cloud giants has a long history of failure. Our 2022 report chronicled the ambitious Franco-German effort to develop GAIA-X, a federated data and cloud ecosystem.61 In the years since, the vision of an interoperable network of trusted European cloud providers has had limited success. Its major output is a series of standards, specifications, and labels for European cloud providers, rather than a transformation of the commercial landscape.62

Draghi’s 2024 report on the single market effectively conceded defeat in this area of endeavor. “It is too late for the EU to . . . develop systematic challengers to the major US cloud providers,” Draghi wrote.63 Nonetheless, European anxiety over the possibility, however small, that dominant US platform services could withdraw from the continent, be blocked from serving it by the US government, or be a mechanism for channeling EU data to the US government, will continue to power a push for European sovereign alternatives.

A second continuing impetus is an awareness in Europe—thanks to Snowden—that the dominance of US digital services in Europe offers US intelligence agencies a strategic advantage. The Biden administration even boasted of this during the 2023 congressional debate to reauthorize Section 702 of the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA), a principal authority for collecting intelligence information on non-Americans. The pervasiveness of US digital service providers worldwide, the administration noted, allows US intelligence agencies to “leverage this national advantage to collect foreign intelligence information . . . in order to protect America from its adversaries.”64

US intelligence collection in Europe is not the only challenge to data sovereignty that the EU sees emanating from the United States. Another is the Clarifying Lawful Overseas Use of Data Act (CLOUD Act), a 2018 US law. This statute confirmed that US law enforcement can unilaterally order cloud service providers with a presence in the United States to turn over personal data they host on servers in Europe and other foreign locations for criminal investigations and prosecutions. Although several EU countries, including Belgium, give their law enforcement authorities similar extraterritorial criminal evidentiary powers, this part of the CLOUD Act is seen in Europe as singularly intrusive. When EU legislators call for companies to be immune to foreign law, they are often referring to the CLOUD Act.

However, the CLOUD Act also contains a conciliatory dimension. Part II of the act authorizes the US Department of Justice to negotiate binding international agreements under which criminal investigators and prosecutors can obtain foreign-located electronic evidence directly from providers. Because CLOUD Act agreements are consensual, they do not violate a foreign state’s judicial sovereignty by commanding that a legal measure be taken on its territory. Instead, they remove legal obstacles that companies otherwise face in voluntarily assisting foreign law enforcement. This new type of international agreement can substantially reduce reliance on mutual legal assistance treaties (MLATs), which can be too slow and cumbersome for obtaining e-evidence in fast-moving investigations.

The United States has concluded CLOUD Act agreements with the United Kingdom (UK) and Australia, and negotiations are under way with Canada, all of which are members of the Five Eyes intelligence collective.65 The UK agreement, the first to be concluded, has had a positive effect for that country’s law enforcement agencies.66 According to the US Department of Justice, UK agencies have already made more than twenty thousand direct requests to companies holding electronic evidence in the United States, including many for real-time interception of communications.67 The results “provided UK Law Enforcement and Intelligence Agencies with critical data to tackle the most serious crimes facing UK citizens including terrorism; child sexual exploitation; drug trafficking; and organised crime,” a UK government minister said in late 2023.68

Prosecutors from EU member states have looked across the channel jealously as their UK counterparts have made use of this powerful new investigative tool. In 2019, the EU authorized negotiation of an e-evidence agreement with the United States.69 Talks began in earnest after the EU finalized its controversial counterpart to the CLOUD Act, the 2023 E-Evidence Regulation.70 Progress has been slow and painstaking. In June 2024, senior EU and US home affairs and justice officials issued an optimistic joint statement welcoming “further progress” in the negotiations and looking “forward to advancing and completing” them.71

Source: US Department of Justice

The Trump administration has paused EU-US negotiations without explanation. It might have concluded that CLOUD Act agreements operate overwhelmingly to the advantage of foreign partners—the inevitable consequence of most relevant data being housed on servers located in the United States. As the Trump administration has demonstrated in trade negotiations with foreign countries, it is singularly focused on agreements that it can present as bringing more benefits for the United States. However, such a narrow focus overlooks other benefits of CLOUD Act agreements—sparing cloud providers conflicts of law, deterring data localization measures, and reducing the burden on the mutual legal assistance process.

The EU-US Data Privacy Framework and an e-evidence agreement would neutralize much of the political tension that has prevailed in these realms for more than a decade.

In mid-2025, the UK government added an element of controversy to the use of CLOUD agreements by allegedly serving a request to Apple that it globally disable security features on its products.72 If the UK successfully required Apple to remove security from a product (for example, by building in a backdoor to data that would otherwise be end-to-end encrypted), it could then use the CLOUD Act agreement to request the now-vulnerable data directly from the company. Apple challenged the request in a UK administrative court proceeding and issued a public statement warning customers about the measure’s impact.73 In addition, the White House and Congress sharply criticized the reported UK measure.74 In August, the UK government withdrew its demand for access to Apple US customers’ encrypted data, effectively conceding to the US objection.75 It recently confirmed that the order had been reissued to apply only to UK users.76 The US government could well demand that any EU e-evidence agreement include a similar commitment safeguarding US persons’ data from surveillance by member states’ authorities.

A US-EU e-evidence agreement would be an important advance in calming Europe’s sovereign sensitivities about how US law enforcement authorities collect foreign-located evidence, just as the Data Privacy Framework has at least temporarily allayed Europe’s concerns about US national security agencies’ collection practices. Taken together, the two agreements would neutralize much of the political tension that has prevailed in these realms for more than a decade.

The US u-turn on data flows

After decades of the United States propounding unrestricted international commercial data flows—and bemoaning Europe’s privacy impediments to them—the Biden administration made a dramatic course correction in late 2023.77 Through parallel legislation (the Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act) and executive action, it imposed controls on certain categories of data exports to China, Russia, and other “foreign adversaries” citing national security reasons.78 Subsequently, the Department of Justice issued a final rule and guidance to companies on compliance and enforcement.79 Both the legislation and regulatory actions were spurred by reports that data brokers were collecting publicly available bulk data on US persons and selling them to foreign governments, which could enable them to—among other things—track the location of US military personnel.80

In addition to enacting domestic measures to limit certain international commercial data flows, the United States reversed course internationally. In the fall of 2023, the Office of the US Trade Representative withdrew its proposal to include in the Joint Statement Initiative on Electronic Commerce (JSI)—a World Trade Organization negotiation—a guarantee of the free flow of data across borders.81 The final text of the JSI, announced in July 2024, not only lacks such an obligation but allows parties essentially unlimited scope to restrict data flows for data protection reasons, precisely as the EU had sought.82 Even with these changes, the United States declined to join the JSI because it regarded the agreement’s national security exception as insufficiently flexible, a move that some European Commission officials found puzzling.83

In contrast to the United States—and despite its long history of controlling data exports through the GDPR—the EU has moved slowly to evaluate the risks of data transfers to authoritarian states such as China and Russia. In 2021, the European Data Protection Board commissioned an outside report from academics that confirmed both countries’ governments have access to individuals’ personal information without commensurate rule-of-law protections, but it took no further action.84 Even Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has not served to entirely staunch the flow of European data to Russia. The Finnish and Dutch data protection authorities investigated data transfers by Yango, a subsidiary of the Russian search engine Yandex, but have not yet imposed restrictions.85

The data dynamics are a microcosm of Europe’s larger dilemma with China—deep commercial dependency, but also a recognition that a degree of sovereign control is needed.

The past year, however, has seen a gradual shift in European regulators’ thinking regarding data transfers to China. In May 2025, the Irish Data Protection Commission (DPC) fined TikTok €530 million after discovering it was transferring data to China without requisite data protection safeguards.86 In July, the DPC broadened its TikTok inquiry into whether the Chinese government could access such data when they are stored in China.87 The Finnish data protection authority began a separate investigation into possible Chinese government access to health data that a Finnish university had shared with a Chinese genetic analysis company.88

Even Schrems, who has long challenged European data transfers to the United States, has turned his attention to China. Early in 2025, he filed complaints with European data protection authorities against six major Chinese consumer companies, including Shein, Temu, and WeChat, alleging government access to Europeans’ personal data by an “authoritarian surveillance state.89

Recent moves by European data protection authorities to question whether China’s government has impermissible access to Europeans’ personal information mirror the rise in geopolitical tensions between Brussels and Beijing. Ireland’s inquiry into TikTok data transfers, for example, can be read as asserting European data sovereignty against a geopolitical rival. The data dynamics are, in effect, a microcosm of Europe’s larger dilemma with China—deep commercial dependency, but also a recognition that a degree of sovereign control is needed.

A single European data market

Brussels has recently expanded its laws promoting the secondary use of data for commercial, research, and government purposes, in hopes that these innovative legal measures will give homegrown companies a much-needed advantage in competing with data-rich foreign tech giants. However, the transfer of such data to non-EU companies has raised concerns about potentially protectionist restrictions. The Data Governance Act, the Data Act, and the European Health Data Space regulation—all enacted during the first von der Leyen commission—seek to stimulate a market for the secondary use of European data for commercial purposes.90 These measures are based on the recognition that data collected by—and locked within—governmental or commercial organizations can have societal and economic benefits if made available for reuse by other entities.

The 2022 Data Governance Act grew out of a post-pandemic recognition of the potential for reuse of government-held data. It facilitates reuse by the private sector, for both commercial and non-commercial purposes, of government-held data (G2B), including data originally collected by public health, environmental, and transport authorities. Then Commissioner Thierry Breton hailed it as a step toward “an open yet sovereign European Single Market for data.”91

The Data Governance Act was followed a year later by the even more ambitious Data Act, which concentrated on expanding business-to-business sharing of non-personal data, such as the industrial data generated by connected devices. The Data Act sought to ease legal issues that arise with reuse by third parties, such as intellectual property protection and trade secret rules. Both laws insisted upon additional safeguards for transferring data to companies in third countries, such as the United States, where that data could become subject to governmental access. The European Commission further envisaged a series of sector-specific European data spaces, each requiring separate legislation.92 They would cover sectors—from agriculture to energy to transportation—that generate large amounts of industrial data ripe for reuse. The European Health Data Space regulation is the first of this series to be enacted.

At the start of the current commission mandate, von der Leyen’s mission letter to Virkkunen instructed her to deepen focus on the reuse of data. She was asked to “present a European Data Union Strategy drawing on existing data rules to ensure a simplified, clear and coherent legal framework for businesses and administrations to share data seamlessly and at scale, while respecting high privacy and security standards.”93 The commission duly launched a public consultation process, articulating as its aim “expanding the availability and use of data to support AI development.”94 Published on November 19, 2025, the Data Union Strategy seeks to safeguard the EU’s data sovereignty by ensuring fair conditions for cross border flows of non-personal data; “linking EU data ecosystems with those of like-minded partners;” and “boosting the EU voice in global data governance.”95 This is intended to build a comprehensive legal regime for secondary data access that will enable European industry to catch up with the US tech giants that already enjoy access to vast pools of proprietary data.

EU content moderation and free speech

One of the EU’s proudest recent legislative accomplishments is the 2023 Digital Services Act, a sprawling and complex framework regulating online platforms’ accountability for illegal content, including illegal hate speech.96 It imposes the most onerous requirements on very large online platforms, half of which are US companies. The Trump administration and the Republican-led Congress have sharply criticized the DSA, viewing it as a tool for the suppression of right-wing populist political speech.97 On the contrary, the EU views certain DSA provisions, such as transparency tools and safeguards against arbitrary content moderation, as intended to protect free speech.

Trump singled out the DSA for criticism in the February 2025 official memorandum on preventing the “Unfair Exploitation of American Innovation,” while the Republican chair of the Federal Communications Commission called it “incompatible with both our free speech tradition in America and the commitments that these technology companies have made to a diversity of opinions.”98 The US State Department began a diplomatic campaign, alleging, “In Europe, thousands are being convicted for the crime of criticizing their own governments.”99 A leaked August 2025 cable to European posts directed US diplomats to advocate for a narrowing of the DSA’s definition of illegal content, among other ambitions. The European Commission firmly pushed back, describing the censorship allegations as “completely unfounded” and insisting that its digital legislation “will not be changed.”100

The Republican majority on the House of Representatives Judiciary Committee also weighed in with a strongly worded staff report describing the DSA as an “anti-speech, Big Brother law.”101

The report identified a handful of examples of how the act could function to restrict speech extraterritorially. For example, in an August 2024 letter, then Commissioner Breton warned Elon Musk’s X platform that the effects of a campaign interview it hosted with Trump could spill over into the EU and spur commission retaliatory measures under the DSA.102 The committee also cited a request to X by the French national police that the platform remove a post originating from a US-based account suggesting France’s immigration and citizenship policies were to blame for a 2023 terrorist attack a Syrian refugee committed in that country.103

Reform UK party leader Nigel Farage before a House Judiciary Committee hearing entitled “Europe’s threats to American speech and innovation” in Washington, DC, September 3, 2025. REUTERS/Nathan Howard.

The chairman of the US FTC launched a further salvo in August, warning US companies that their very compliance with the EU’s DSA, or with the UK’s similar Online Services Act or its surveillance authorities, could constitute a violation of the FTC Act, which prohibits unfair or deceptive commercial acts or practices. FTC Chairman Andrew N. Ferguson suggested, “It might be an unfair practice to subject American consumers to censorship by a foreign power by applying foreign legal requirements, demands, or expected demands to consumers outside of that foreign jurisdiction.”104

This transatlantic dispute over the DSA and similar content moderation laws reflects differing US and European historical traditions on speech regulation.105 The US Supreme Court has identified only speech creating a “clear and present danger” of inciting violence or other illegal conduct as suitable for restriction. Many European judiciaries, informed by their countries’ twentieth century histories of hate speech, take a more cautious view. For example, Germany bans speech glorifying or denying the Holocaust, while Denmark makes it illegal to burn the Quran. The DSA is the EU’s attempt to ensure that platforms remove content deemed illegal, both offline and online, but the act’s lack of definitions leaves a door open to abuse.

On December 23, 2025, the Trump administration raised the stakes in its free speech campaign against European content moderation laws. Secretary of State Marco Rubio issued determinations under the Immigration and Nationality Act barring from entry into the United States five Europeans associated with content moderation.106 The headliner was Thierry Breton, an architect of the DSA; the others hail from European non-governmental organizations that track hate speech and disinformation on the internet. The European Commission quickly issued a statement that it “strongly condemns” the US actions, reiterating its “sovereign right to regulate economic activity in line with our democratic values.”107 As the Trump administration continues its ideological campaign against the DSA, the transatlantic dispute over free speech seems bound to escalate.

Cybersecurity and cloud services

In 2022, the European Union Agency for Cybersecurity (ENISA) began an effort to harmonize member-state cybersecurity requirements for government data processing contracts. The European Commission averred that cloud services were a “strategic dependency” on a handful of large providers headquartered in the United States.108 Several EU member states, led by France, argued for including sovereignty requirements in the envisaged EU Cybersecurity Scheme (EUCS).

A leaked 2023 ENISA draft proposed that the EU impose sovereignty requirements similar to those in France’s domestic security certification and labeling program, SecNumCloud, for contracts involving the most sensitive government data. SecNumCloud has an announced goal that, in order to obtain a trust certificate, cloud service providers must be “immune to any extra-EU regulation.”109 ENISA proposed incorporating this requirement into EU law as well, adding restrictions on foreign ownership and insisting on localization of cloud services operations and data within the EU.

EU member states divided over whether to adopt such cybersecurity requirements, which could have the effect of disqualifying large foreign cloud service providers from sensitive government data processing contracts. In addition, some European companies, especially in the financial sector, argued that the foreign providers offered greater cybersecurity as well as a superior technical product.110 The Office of the US Trade Representative formally questioned whether the potential EUCS restrictions were consistent with the EU’s obligations under the World Trade Organization’s Government Procurement Agreement (GPA).111

In 2024, the Belgian EU presidency put forward a compromise proposal that discarded the foreign ownership restrictions in favor of data labeling and localization requirements.112 French authorities and technology companies expressed dismay at the prospect of EU-level cybersecurity certification rules weaker than France’s own.113 ENISA has yet to issue the final implementing measure, and this debate could well reemerge in the context of the anticipated CADA.

Looking ahead: Transatlantic tension will persist

The European debate over digital sovereignty—now firmly linked to the wider debate over technological sovereignty—is likely to be a continuing point of tension in the US-EU relationship. For many years, this has been a rhetorical exercise with few real consequences for non-EU firms, especially US companies. But the shift in geopolitics and the increasing drive to support EU industries to build a more competitive economy have led many European policymakers to conclude that now is the time to act. Moreover, the geopolitics are not just about Russia’s aggression or China’s export domination. They are also about the shifts and inconsistencies in US policy that have made many in Europe believe that it must now begin to fend for itself, in terms of both defense and the economy. 

As a result, the debate over digital sovereignty has moved from a discussion of whether there should be limits on non-EU companies to a discussion of how many restrictions there will be, and of what type and in what sectors of the economy. That discussion is likely to be pursued through several key legislative initiatives planned for late 2025 and 2026. CADA is already expected to identify requirements—including sovereign requirements—for cloud services.

The geopolitics are not just about Russia’s aggression or China’s export domination. They are also about the shifts and inconsistencies in US policy that have made many in Europe believe that it must now begin to fend for itself.

Perhaps most relevant, the public procurement directives are already under internal review, with a proposal for revision expected from the commission in 2026.114 Because much of the debate is about who can sell which products and services to whom (including to governments), procurement policy will be a key instrument in imposing sovereign requirements. EU and member-state procurement rules currently privilege price as the key selection criteria but, in the Net Zero Industry Act and other new measures, other considerations have been introduced into the procurement calculation.

As the EU pursues these initiatives, it will face a dilemma: To what degree does sovereignty require autarky? Or does the EU require partnerships, despite the risk of dependencies, because of the current lack of key capabilities? Some in Europe have argued that the right way forward is to develop end-to-end EU capabilities in the form of a Eurostack.115 From fiber-optic networks and computing hardware to software development and cybersecurity capabilities, all would be provided by EU companies.116 Others have pointed to the difficulties with this, asking whether the lack of EU-owned capabilities in cloud, AI, search, and other key functions would doom such an effort to be inferior and thus push Europe farther behind in the race to innovate essential digital technologies for the future. They also fear that European companies will not be able to compete internationally if they are cushioned by sovereign requirements.117 Some see no contradiction between sovereignty and being open to non-EU firms; indeed, they see access to the most innovative global companies as essential, especially given Europe’s competitiveness challenge.118 For others, the key element is timing. The EU tech sector currently lags in innovation but, with proper support and time, it should be fully capable of growing world-leading firms and technologies.119 Indeed, the EU’s International Digital Strategy emphasizes the importance of partners in boosting EU competitiveness and innovation, and the EU’s ambitions in global governance for data can hardly be accomplished without cooperative partners.120

But in all these versions of digital sovereignty, as well as in the larger arena of tech sovereignty, there is a central question: who owns the companies involved, and does it matter if they are not EU firms as long as they abide by EU laws and regulations? The recent negotiations over an EU-wide cloud certification system stalled on exactly this point (see the above discussion of EUCS). The Toolbox for 5G Cybersecurity put forward the concept of a “high-risk supplier” to warn against non-EU companies that were insufficiently independent of their home governments. While this was aimed at Chinese companies—especially Huawei—concerns have more recently focused on the United States and its companies.

The EU’s concerns are not only about the dominant position of US platforms in the European digital market, but also the potential actions of the US government—especially the Trump administration. The administration’s inconsistency on Ukraine, highlighted by its threats in July 2025 to cease sending weapons and other military supplies to Ukraine (reversed shortly after), alarmed many in Europe.121 Reports that the Trump administration threatened to block Ukraine’s access to the vital communications network Starlink during negotiations over critical minerals also raised European concerns.122 While these instances were primarily about defense, not the digital arena, they have created a heightened sense of insecurity in Europe. Coupled with the experience of the trade negotiations, they put into question the reliability of the United States as a partner in any undertaking.

In this environment, the EU will need to make choices about how best to ensure it has sufficient sovereignty over its digital market. Will the answer be found in more restrictions on non-EU companies, or with a more open arrangement that also boosts European economic growth and competitiveness?

Seven recommendations for Brussels and Washington

Given the economic stakes involved for both parties, the EU should engage the United States as it moves forward, and should keep the following guidelines in mind.

Competitiveness is key to innovation and economic success.

Throughout the coming debates over sovereign requirements, the EU must balance the need for security and for its own industrial and digital capabilities with the efficiencies and productivity required for a globally competitive economy. Settling for a more expensive and less capable product or service because it is European owned is not the way to grow the economy. There are times when it is necessary, but these instances should be rare and well considered, not routine.123

Heated rhetoric on either side does not help the economy.

As the EU moves forward with legislation, both Washington and Brussels should seek to lower the temperature. While some US executive orders and statements from top officials have seemed to decry any EU regulation that impedes US companies, the reality is that Europe has the right to regulate as it sees fit in its own market, as does the United States. At the same time, European threats of broad sovereign restrictions do not encourage needed investment. It should not be forgotten that the US-EU trade and investment relationship is the largest such partnership in the world, worth around $1.5 trillion in goods and services trade in 2024, and with mutual investment worth several times that.124 As both parties establish regulatory or investment requirements intended to boost domestic capabilities and add resilience to their economies, there will inevitably be tensions and misunderstandings. Creating barriers to trade and investment is sometimes necessary in limited circumstances, but careful consultations can ameliorate their impact.

A proposal that the trusted circle of cybersecurity providers be based on NATO membership might be appropriate.

As the discussion of data policy demonstrates, the transatlantic economy is not just about products and services, but also the data generated by them. Sharing those data—and being able to use them to generate revenues—is key to success in the digital economy. Of course, those transferring and using data must comply with local laws, including the GDPR. But the US and EU regulatory regimes collide at times, offering inconsistent or even conflicting requirements. Negotiated arrangements, such as the US-EU Data Privacy Framework, can overcome those differences and provide a stable context for business. A US–EU agreement on law enforcement access to data likewise could provide the protections and access both parties need. Similarly, an agreement that facilitates transfers of non-personal data might be useful in response to the Data Act and Data Union Strategy. Now is the time to make sure the United States and EU are developing compatible regimes.

Ringfencing can be a valuable strategy, as can trusted vendors.

Not all suppliers and customers are equal. Arrangements among allies and partners can lessen risks while preserving as much of the open, prosperous economy as possible, even in sensitive sectors. It makes no sense for Europeans to focus more on the transfer of data to the United States than to Russia or China. Using criteria such as those in the EU Toolbox for 5G Cybersecurity to identify foreign companies that can partner in key sectors will provide clarity and ease transactions. Similarly, a proposal floated in the EUCS negotiations that the trusted circle of cybersecurity providers be based on NATO membership might be appropriate. The Group of Seven (G7) could also offer a starting point for developing a set of compatible, interacting regulatory regimes in the digital economy, as it has done to some degree through its discussion of data free flow with trust and the AI principles and code of conduct.125

Certain sectors of the economy are more sensitive than others.

Digital sovereignty requirements should not be imposed on broad swaths of the economy. There are two main reasons for such requirements: national security and creating an indigenous capability in those areas where national economic resiliency is required. Policymakers should carefully identify the areas of the economy where these two reasons apply. Cybersecurity for essential government operations and protecting critical infrastructure are good examples. Management of more prosaic, but still sensitive government data—including where they are stored and who has access—might not need such stringent requirements. Because digital elements—data, cloud, software, and increasingly AI—exist across the economy, it might be more helpful to think about specific functions and make a risk-based assessment of the consequences of failure. Sovereign requirements should be limited to those areas in which a failure or breach will have consequences across society and the economy.

The type of sovereign requirement can vary with the economic sector and even particular conditions.

Among European policymakers, the sovereign requirements currently under discussion can be divided into two types: those that require a supplier to adhere to specific rules and those that involve restrictions relating to the ownership of the company supplying a particular service or product. The first might involve data localization or restricting access to data or use of a particular technology, such as AI. The second, which has been applied in the French SecNumCloud, is far more restrictive and affects the ability of any US-based company to provide the service in question. In some cases, an ownership restriction might exclude companies with the best capabilities from providing the service, and could even expose those using the service to more risk. Thus, ownership restrictions are unlikely to be worthwhile except in rare cases. In the United States, these exist in areas of defense contracting, in which companies dealing with US classified material must set up a US company with US governance and employees. But most government digital contracts, both in the United States and in Europe, are not defense related and would not require such far-reaching ownership rules.

Instead, for those functions in which a breach or disruption would cause significant harm, creating a category of trusted vendors might be appropriate. This could apply to sensitive government functions, as well as to critical infrastructure provided by private-sector enterprises. A system based on trusted vendors could balance the desire to boost local providers while also securing access to top-quality services from non-EU companies. The EU might consider whether there are lessons to be learned from the US government’s FedRAMP system, which certifies companies (including non-US companies) to provide cloud services to different government customers. Companies need to meet criteria that become more restrictive and complex through the three levels of certification (low, moderate, and high).126 While FedRAMP applies across most of the US government, individual agencies have the ability to impose their own requirements, allowing national security and intelligence agencies to impose further restrictions on those involved in classified functions. Despite these exceptions, FedRAMP’s graduated approach—matching certification level to sensitivity of the data—is much more tailored than some European proposals in matching certification requirements to the risk level of the cloud service required.127

Sovereign requirements should be implemented in a consistent manner, including at the member-state level.

One of the persistent challenges of EU policy is ensuring that implementation is the same throughout the union. Both the Draghi and Letta reports cited differences in member-state requirements for businesses (or implementation of those requirements) as a key factor slowing EU competitiveness. The US trade representative has cited as trade barriers numerous instances of different requirements among EU member states, meaning that companies must follow multiple sets of rules even within the single market.128 The European Commission recognized this problem when it decided that, under the DSA, very large online platforms (VLOPs) should be regulated at the EU level, not by member-state authorities. As the EU develops sovereign requirements in the digital sphere, it should be alert to efforts by member states to toughen criteria in ways that add unwarranted restrictions.

While the EU certainly has the right to decide on its own digital sovereignty requirements, those measures will undoubtedly affect access of non-EU companies to the market as well as the capabilities that are accessible to the EU and its member states. There will be costs for the EU, especially as it tries to build a more competitive economy. For that reason, any restrictions should be focused on those circumstances in which risks are high and security is necessary. This exercise should not be about denying access to non-EU companies, but instead about building a secure digital environment and resilient European capabilities. The EU should engage with its partners—not only the United States, but also Japan, South Korea, the UK, and others—to ensure that the fewest possible frictions arise. This will be a test for the transatlantic relationship, but one that can lead to greater cooperation rather than continued angst. 

About the authors

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank James Batchik, Emma Nix, and Jack Muldoon for their tireless support on the report’s editing, research, and data visualization.

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1    See, for example: “Von der Leyen Puts Digital Sovereignty at the Heart of EU’s 2025 Agenda,” Council of European Informatics Societies, September 16, 2025, https://cepis.org/von-der-leyen-puts-digital-sovereignty-at-the-heart-of-eus-2025-agenda/.
2    See the earlier work of the authors: Frances G. Burwell and Kenneth Propp, “The European Union and the Search for Digital Sovereignty: Building ‘Fortress Europe’ or Preparing for a New World?”Atlantic Council, June 2020, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/The-European-Union-and-the-Search-for-Digital-Sovereignty-Building-Fortress-Europe-or-Preparing-for-a-New-World.pdf; Frances Burwell and Kenneth Propp, “Digital Sovereignty in Practice: The EU’s Push to Shape the New Global Economy,” Atlantic Council, November 2, 2022, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/digital-sovereignty-in-practice-the-eus-push-to-shape-the-new-global-economy/.
3    Donald J. Trump, Truth Social post, August 25, 2025, https://truthsocial.com/@realDonaldTrump/posts/115092243259973570; Elena Giordano, “EU Resists Trump: Tech Regulation Is Our ‘Sovereign Right,” Politico,August 26, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/eu-resists-trump-tech-regulation-is-our-sovereign-right/.
4    “Lutnick Talks EU Tech Rules, Nvidia H200 Chips, SCOTUS Tariff,” Bloomberg, November 24, 2025, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/videos/2025-11-24/lutnick-talks-eu-tech-rules-nvidia-h200-chips-tariffs-video.
5    “European Council Meeting (23 October 2025) Conclusions,” European Council, October 23, 2025, https://www.consilium.europa.eu/media/d2nhnqso/20251023-european-council-conclusions-en.pdf.
6    Sarah Knafo, “Report on European Technological Sovereignty and Digital Infrastructure,” European Parliament, Committee on Industry, Research and Energy, June 11, 2025, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/doceo/document/A-10-2025-0107_EN.html.
7    Cristina Caffarra, et al., “Deploying the Eurostack: What’s Needed Now,” Eurostack Initiative, May 19, 2025, https://eurostack.eu/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/eurostack-white-paper-final-19-05-25-3.pdf.
8    Kenneth Propp, “Talking Past Each Other: Why the US-EU Dispute over ‘Free Speech’ Is Set to Escalate,” Atlantic Council, August 15, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/us-eu-dispute-over-free-speech-is-set-to-escalate/.
9    “European Council Meeting (23 October 2025) Conclusions.”
10    “Summit on European Digital Sovereignty Delivers Landmark Commitments for a More Competitive and Sovereign Europe,” Élysée, November 18, 2025, https://www.elysee.fr/en/emmanuel-macron/2025/11/18/summit-on-european-digital-sovereignty-delivers-landmark-commitments-for-a-more-competitive-and-sovereign-europe.
11    “Declaration for European Digital Sovereignty,” Council of the European Union, December 5, 2025, https://data.consilium.europa.eu/doc/document/ST-15781-2025-INIT/en/pdf.
13    Knafo, “Report on European Technological Sovereignty and Digital Infrastructure.”
14    Mario Draghi, “The Future of European Competitiveness,” European Commission, September 9, 2024, https://commission.europa.eu/topics/eu-competitiveness/draghi-report_en.
15    Ibid.
16    “Largest Tech Companies by Market Cap,” CompaniesMarketCap, last visited September 27, 2025, https://companiesmarketcap.com/tech/largest-tech-companies-by-market-cap/.
17    Enrico Letta, “Much More than a Market,” European Council, April 2024, https://www.consilium.europa.eu/media/ny3j24sm/much-more-than-a-market-report-by-enrico-letta.pdf.
18    Draghi, “The Future of European Competitiveness.
19    Ivan Levingston, “European Start-up Valuations Boom on Investor Frenzy,” Financial Times, September 5, 2025, https://www.ft.com/content/5cd37cea-87e7-4648-b85b-f77091dd4558.
20    Draghi, “The Future of European Competitiveness.
21    Ramsha Jahangir, “What’s Behind Europe’s Push to ‘Simplify’ Tech Regulation?” Tech Policy Press, April 24, 2025, https://www.techpolicy.press/whats-behind-europes-push-to-simplify-tech-regulation/.
22    Javier Espinosa, “EU Should Focus on Top 5 Tech Companies, Says Leading MEP,” Financial Times, May 31, 2021, https://www.ft.com/content/49f3d7f2-30d5-4336-87ad-eea0ee0ecc7b.
23    “Cybersecurity of 5G Networks: EU Toolbox of Risk Mitigation Measures,” European Commission, January 23, 2020, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/library/cybersecurity-5g-networks-eu-toolbox-risk-mitigating-measures.
24    “EU–China—A Strategic Outlook,” European Commission and European External Action Service, March 12, 2019, https://commission.europa.eu/system/files/2019-03/communication-eu-china-a-strategic-outlook.pdf.
25    “Speech by President von der Leyen on EU-China Relations to the Mercator Institute for China Studies and the European Policy Centre,” European Commission,March 29, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/speech_23_2063.
26    “Strategic Dependencies and Capacities,” European Commission, May 5, 2021, https://commission.europa.eu/system/files/2021-05/swd-strategic-dependencies-capacities_en.pdf.
27    “Commission Announces Next Steps on Cybersecurity of 5G Networks in Complement to Latest Progress Report by Member States,” European Commission, press release, June 14, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_3309.
28    “Roadmap Towards Ending Russian Energy Imports,” European Commission, May 12, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:52025DC0440R(01).
29    “Defending American Companies and Innovators from Overseas Extortion and Unfair Fines and Penalties,” White House, February 21, 2025, https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/02/defending-american-companies-and-innovators-from-overseas-extortion-and-unfair-fines-and-penalties/.
30    Ibid.
31    “Fact Sheet: President Donald J. Trump Issues Directive to Prevent the Unfair Exploitation of American Innovation,” White House,February 21, 2025, https://www.whitehouse.gov/fact-sheets/2025/02/fact-sheet-president-donald-j-trump-issues-directive-to-prevent-the-unfair-exploitation-of-american-innovation.
32    Alice Hancock, Paola Tamma, and James Politi, “EU Push to Protect Digital Rules Holds Up Trade Statement with US,” Financial Times, August 17, 2025. https://www.ft.com/content/3f67b6ca-7259-4612-8e51-12b497128552.
33    Truth Social, August 25, 2025.
34    “2025 State of the Union Address by President von der Leyen,” European Commission, September 9, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/ov/SPEECH_25_2053.
35    U.S. Trade Representative, X post, December 16, 2025, https://x.com/USTradeRep/status/2000990028835508258.
36    “Commission Finds Apple and Meta in Breach of the Digital Markets Act,” European Commission, press release, April 23, 2025, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/news/commission-finds-apple-and-meta-breach-digital-markets-act.
37    “Commission Fines Google €2.95 Billion over Abusive Practices in Online Advertising Technology,” European Commission, press release, September 4, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1992.
38    “Commission fines X €120 million under the Digital Services Act,” European Commission, press release, December 5, 2025, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/news/commission-fines-x-eu120-million-under-digital-services-act.
39    Mark MacCarthy and Kenneth Propp, “The European Union Changes Course on Digital Legislation,” Lawfare, December 15, 2025, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/the-european-union-changes-course-on-digital-legislation.
40    “Simpler EU Digital Rules and New Digital Wallets to Save Billions for Businesses and Boost Innovation,” European Commission, press release, November 19, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_2718.
41    “EU Launches InvestAI Initiative to Mobilise €200 Billion of Investment in Artificial Intelligence,” European Commission, press release, February 10, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_467.
42    “Commission Launches Ambitious Strategy to Make Europe a Startup and Scaleup Powerhouse,” European Commission, press release, May 27, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1350.
43    Barbara Moens and Paola Tamma, “EU to Block Big Tech from New Financial Sharing Data System,” Financial Times, September 21, 2025, https://www.ft.com/content/6596876f-c831-482c-878c-78c1499ef543.
44    Luca Bertuzzi, “‘Effective control’ concept for cloud sovereignty eyed by EU Commission,” MLex, September 4, 2025, https://www.mlex.com/mlex/articles/2384011/-effective-control-concept-for-cloud-sovereignty-eyed-by-eu-commission?trk=public_post_comment-text.
45    “European Data Union Strategy,” European Commission,November 19, 2025, 18–20, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/policies/data-union.
46    Ibid.
47    Axel Voss, “Regaining Europe’s Digital Sovereignty: Ten Immediate Actions for 2025,”EPP Group at the European Parliament, October 7, 2025, https://www.axel-voss-europa.de/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/AVoss-10-Steps-Digital-Sovereignty.pdf.
48    Ibid.
49    Peter Finn and Sari Horwitz, “US Charges Snowden with Espionage,” Washington Post, June 21, 2013, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/us-charges-snowden-with-espionage/2013/06/21/507497d8-dab1-11e2-a016-92547bf094cc_story.html; Dave Keating, “European Parliament to Hear Snowden testimony,” Politico, January 9, 2014, https://www.politico.eu/article/european-parliament-to-hear-snowden-testimony/.
50    Michael Scherer, “Trump Advisers Renew Push for Pardon of Edward Snowden,” Washington Post, December 4, 2024, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2024/12/04/trump-pardon-edward-snowden-gaetz/.
51    Schrems v. Data Protection Commissioner, CASE C-362/14 (Court of Justice of the EU 2015), https://curia.europa.eu/juris/document/document.jsf?text=&docid=169195&pageIndex=0&doclang=en&mode=lst&dir=&occ=first&part=1&cid=2522200; Data Protection Commissioner v. Facebook Ireland & Schrems, CASE C-311/18 (Court of Justice of the EU 2020), https://curia.europa.eu/juris/document/document.jsf?text=&docid=228677&pageIndex=0&doclang=EN&mode=lst&dir=&occ=first&part=1&cid=4010715.
52    “Meta Platforms, Inc. Annual Report Pursuant to Section 13 or 15(d) of the Securities Exchange Act of 1933 for the Fiscal Year Ended on December 31, 2022,” US Securities and Exchange Commission, 2022, https://www.sec.gov/Archives/edgar/data/1326801/000132680123000013/meta-20221231.htm.
53    “Data Protection: The General Court Dismisses an Action for Annulment of the New Framework for the Transfer of Personal Data between the European Union and the United States,” Court of Justice of the European Union, press release, September 3, 2025, https://curia.europa.eu/jcms/upload/docs/application/pdf/2025-09/cp250106en.pdf.
54    Claudie Moreau and Théophane Hartmann, “Latombe to Appeal EU-US Data Transfer Court Challenge,” Euractiv, October 29, 2025, https://www.euractiv.com/news/exclusive-latombe-to-appeal-eu-us-data-transfer-court-challenge/.
55    “EU-US Data Transfers: First Reaction on ‘Latombe’ Case,” Noyb, September 3, 2025, https://noyb.eu/en/eu-us-data-transfers-first-reaction-latombe-case.
56    Matt Garman and Max Peterson, “AWS Digital Sovereignty Pledge: Announcing a New, Independent Sovereign Cloud in Europe,” AWS Security Blog, October 24, 2023, https://aws.amazon.com/blogs/security/aws-digital-sovereignty-pledge-announcing-a-new-independent-sovereign-cloud-in-europe/; Julie Brill and Erin Chapple, “Microsoft Announces the Phased Rollout of the EU Data Boundary for the Microsoft Cloud Begins January 1, 2023,” Microsoft EU Policy Blog, December 15, 2022, https://blogs.microsoft.com/eupolicy/2022/12/15/eu-data-boundary-cloud-rollout/.
57    Emily Benson, Max Bergmann, and Federico Steinberg, “The Transatlantic Tech Clash: Will Europe ‘De-Risk’ from the United States?” Center for Strategic and International Studies, May 2, 2025, https://www.csis.org/analysis/transatlantic-tech-clash-will-europe-de-risk-united-states.
58    Brad Smith, “Microsoft Announces New European Digital Commitments,” Microsoft, April 30, 2025, https://blogs.microsoft.com/on-the-issues/2025/04/30/european-digital-commitments.
59    Alex Matthews, “Can Europe Build Itself a Rival to Google?” Deutsche Welle, December 9, 2024, https://www.dw.com/en/european-search-engines-ecosia-and-qwant-to-challenge-google/a-70898027.
60    Ibid.
61    Burwell and Propp, “Digital Sovereignty in Practice.”
62    Mathieu Pollet, “Anatomy of a Franco-German Tech Misfire,” Politico, November 17, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/anatomy-franco-german-tech-misfire-american-dependence/.
63    Draghi, “The Future of European Competitiveness,” 34.
64    “President’s Intelligence Advisory Board (PIAB) and Intelligence Oversight Board (IOB) Review of FISA Section 702 and Recommendations for Reauthorization,” White House, July 2023, 3, https://int.nyt.com/data/documenttools/presidents-intelligence-advisory-board-and-intelligence-oversight-board-review-of-fisa-section-702-and-recommendations-for-reauthorization/4d2d3218303fc702/full.pdf.
65    “Landmark U.S.-UK Data Access Agreement Enters into Force,” US Department of Justice, press release, October 3, 2022, https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/pr/landmark-us-uk-data-access-agreement-enters-force; “United States and Australia Enter CLOUD Act Agreement to Facilitate Investigations of Serious Crime,” US Department of Justice, press release, December 15, 2021, https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/pr/united-states-and-australia-enter-cloud-act-agreement-facilitate-investigations-serious-crime; “United States and Canada Welcome Negotiations of a CLOUD Act Agreement,” US Department of Justice, press release, March 22, 2022, https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/pr/united-states-and-canada-welcome-negotiations-cloud-act-agreement.
66    Robert Deedman and Kenneth Propp, “The U.K.-US Data Access Agreement,” Lawfare, June 20, 2025, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/the-u.k.-u.s.-data-access-agreement.
67    “Report Concerning the Attorney General’s Renewed Determination that the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and the Agreement between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland on Access to Electronic Data for the Purpose of Countering Serious Crime, Satisfy the Requirements of 18 USC. § 2523(B),” US Department of Justice, November 2024, https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/25551978-doj-report-to-congress-on-us-uk-cloud-act-agreement/.
68    Tom Tugendhat, “UK-US Data Access Agreement: First Year of Use,” UK Parliament, December 19, 2023, https://questions-statements.parliament.uk/written-statements/detail/2023-12-19/hcws152?source=email.
69    “Recommendation for a Council Decision Authorizing the Opening of Negotiations in View of an Agreement between the European Union and the United States of America on Cross-Border Access to Electronic Evidence for Judicial Cooperation in Criminal Matters,” European Commission, February 5, 2019, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/resource.html?uri=cellar:b1826bff-2939-11e9-8d04-01aa75ed71a1.0001.02/DOC_1&format=PDF.
70    “Council Adopts EU Laws on Better Access to Electronic Evidence,” Council of the European Union, press release, June 27, 2023, https://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/press-releases/2023/06/27/council-adopts-eu-laws-on-better-access-to-electronic-evidence/.
71    “Joint Press Release Following the EU-US Ministerial on Justice and Home Affairs, 21 June 2024 (Brussels),” US Department of Homeland Security, June 28, 2024, https://www.dhs.gov/archive/news/2024/06/28/joint-press-release-following-eu-us-ministerial-justice-and-home-affairs-21-june.
72    Richard Salgado and Kenneth Propp, “Patching the U.K.’s Zero-Day Security Exploit With the US-U.K. CLOUD Act Agreement,” Lawfare, July 31, 2025, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/patching-the-u.k.-s-zero-day-security-exploit-with-the-u.s.-u.k.-cloud-act-agreement.
73    Zoe Kleinman, “UK Demands Access to Apple Users’ Encrypted Data,” BBC, February 7, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c20g288yldko; “Apple Can No Longer Offer Advanced Data Protection the United Kingdom to New Users,” Apple, September 23, 2025, https://support.apple.com/en-gb/122234.
74    Deedman and Propp, “The U.K.-US Data Access Agreement.”
75    Annabelle Timsit and Joseph Menn, “U.K. Drops ‘Back Door’ Demand for Apple User Data, US Intel Chief Says,” Washington Post, August 19, 2025, https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2025/08/19/uk-apple-backdoor-data-privacy-gabbard.
77    Kenneth Propp, “Transatlantic Digital Trade Protections: From TTIP to ‘Policy Suicide?’” Lawfare, February 16, 2024, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/transatlantic-digital-trade-protections-from-ttip-to-policy-suicide.
78    “Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act,” in emergency supplemental appropriations, Pub. L. No. 118–50, 118th Cong. (2024), https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/house-bill/7520/text; “Executive Order on Preventing Access to Americans’ Bulk Sensitive Personal Data and United States Government-Related Data by Countries of Concern,” White House, February 28, 2024, https://bidenwhitehouse.archives.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2024/02/28/executive-order-on-preventing-access-to-americans-bulk-sensitive-personal-data-and-united-states-government-related-data-by-countries-of-concern/.
79    “Fact Sheet: Justice Department Issues Final Rule to Address Urgent National Security Risks Posed by Access to USU.S. Sensitive Personal and Government-Related Data from Countries of Concern and Covered Persons,” US Department of Justice, December 27, 2024, https://www.justice.gov/archives/opa/media/1382526/dl; “Data Security Program: Compliance Guide,” US Department of Justice, April 11, 2025, https://www.justice.gov/opa/media/1396356/dl.
80    Justin Sherman, et al., “Data Brokers and the Sale of Data on US Military Personnel: Risks to Privacy, Safety, and National Security,” Duke Sanford Tech Policy Program, November 2023, https://techpolicy.sanford.duke.edu/data-brokers-and-the-sale-of-data-on-us-military-personnel/.
81    Propp, “Transatlantic Digital Trade Protections.”
82    “Joint Statement Initiative on Electronic Commerce,” World Trade Organization, July 26, 2024, https://docs.wto.org/dol2fe/Pages/SS/directdoc.aspx?filename=q:/INF/ECOM/87.pdf&Open=True.
83    Kenneth Propp, “Who’s a National Security Risk? The Changing Transatlantic Geopolitics of Data Transfers,” Atlantic Council, May 29, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Whos-a-National-Security-Risk-The-Changing-Transatlantic-Geopolitics-of-Data-Transfers_Final.pdf.
84    Government Access to Data in Third Countries: Final Report,” Milieu Consulting, November 2021, https://www.edpb.europa.eu/system/files/2022-01/legalstudy_on_government_access_0.pdf.
85    “The Data Protection Ombudsman’s Decision Does Not Address the Legality of Data Transfers to Russia—the Matter Remains under Investigation,” Office of the Data Protection Ombudsman, September 27, 2023, https://tietosuoja.fi/en/-/the-data-protection-ombudsman-s-decision-does-not-address-the-legality-of-data-transfers-to-russia-the-matter-remains-under-investigation#:~:text=The%20Office%20of%20the%20Data%20Protection%20Ombudsman%27s%20decision,Protection%.
86    “Irish Data Protection Commission Fines TikTok €530 Million and Orders Corrective Measures Following Inquiry into Transfers of EEA User Data to China,” Data Protection Commission of Ireland, May 2, 2025, https://www.dataprotection.ie/en/news-media/latest-news/irish-data-protection-commission-fines-tiktok-eu530-million-and-orders-corrective-measures-following.
87    “DPC Announces Inquiry into TikTok Technology Limited’s Transfers of EEA Users’ Personal Data to Servers Located in China,” Data Protection Commission of Ireland, July 10, 2025, https://www.dataprotection.ie/en/news-media/press-releases/dpc-announces-inquiry-tiktok-technology-limiteds-transfers-eea-users-personal-data-servers-located.
88    Kristof Van Quathem and Anna Sophia Oberschelp de Meneses, “Finnish Supervisory Authority Investigates Health Data Transfers to China,” Covington, March 19, 2025, https://www.insideprivacy.com/cross-border-transfers/finnish-supervisory-authority-investigates-health-data-transfers-to-china/.
89    “TikTok, AliExpress, SHEIN & Co Surrender Europeans’ Data to Authoritarian China,” Noyb, January 16, 2025, https://noyb.eu/en/tiktok-aliexpress-shein-co-surrender-europeans-data-authoritarian-china.
90    “Regulation (EU) 2022/868 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 30 May 2022 on European Data Governance and Amending Regulation (EU) 2018/1724 (Data Governance Act),” Official Journal of the European Union, May 30, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:32022R0868; “Regulation (EU) 2023/2854 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 13 December 2023 on Harmonised Rules on Fair Access to and Use of Data and Amending Regulation (EU) 2017/2394 and Directive (EU) 2020/1828 (Data Act),” Official Journal of the European Union, December 13, 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=OJ:L_202302854; “Regulation (EU) 2025/327 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 11 February 2025 on the European Health Data Space and Amending Directive 2011/24/EU and Regulation (EU) 2024/2847,” Official Journal of the European Union, February 11, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=OJ:L_202500327.
91    “Commission Proposes Measures to Boost Data Sharing and Support European Data Spaces,” European Commission, press release, November 24, 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_20_2102.
92    “Common European Data Spaces,” European Commission, October 27, 2025, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/policies/data-spaces.
93    “Mission Letter: Henna Virkkunen, Executive Vice-President-Designate for Tech Sovereignty, Security and Democracy,” European Commission, September 17, 2024, https://commission.europa.eu/document/download/3b537594-9264-4249-a912-5b102b7b49a3_en?filename=Mission%20letter%20-%20VIRKKUNEN.pdf.
94    “Public Consultation on the Use of Data to Develop the Future of AI: The European Data Union Strategy,” European Data, June 25, 2025, https://data.europa.eu/en/news-events/news/public-consultation-use-data-develop-future-ai-european-data-union-strategy.
95    “Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament and the Council: Data Union Strategy: Unlocking Data for AI,” European Commission, November 19, 2025. https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/policies/data-union.
96    “Regulation (EU) 2022/2065 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 19 October 2022 on a Single Market for Digital Services and Amending Directive 2000/31/EC (Digital Services Act),” Official Journal of the European Union, October 27, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:32022R2065.
97    Jeanna Smialek and Adam Satariano, “Something Else for Europe and the US to Disagree About: ‘Free Speech,’” New York Times, April 4, 2025, https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/04/world/europe/european-union-free-speech-x-facebook-elon-musk.html.
98    “Fact Sheet: President Donald J. Trump Issues Directive to Prevent the Unfair Exploitation of American Innovation”; Supantha Mukherjee, “US FCC Chair Says EU Digital Services Act Is Threat to Free Speech,” Reuters, March 3, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/technology/eu-content-law-incompatible-with-us-free-speech-tradition-says-fccs-carr-2025-03-03/.
99    Department of State (@StateDept), “In Europe, thousands are being convicted for the crime of criticizing their own governments. This Orwellian message won’t fool the United States. Censorship is not freedom,” X post, July 22, 2025, https://x.com/statedept/status/1947755665520304253.
100    Humeyra Pamuk, “Rubio Orders US Diplomats to Launch Lobbying Blitz against Europe’s Tech Law,” Reuters, August 7, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/sustainability/society-equity/rubio-orders-us-diplomats-launch-lobbying-blitz-against-europes-tech-law-2025-08-07.
101    “The Foreign Censorship Threat: How the European Union’s Digital Services Act Compels Global Censorship and Infringes on American Free Speech,” Committee on the Judiciary of the US House of Representatives, July 25, 2025, https://judiciary.house.gov/sites/evo-subsites/republicans-judiciary.house.gov/files/2025-07/DSA_Report%26Appendix%2807.25.25%29.pdf.
102    Mark Scott, “EU Takes Shot at Musk over Trump Interview—and Misses,” Politico, August 13, 2024, https://www.politico.eu/article/eu-elon-musk-donald-trump-interview-thierry-breton-letter-social-media/.
103    “The Foreign Censorship Threat.”
104    “Model Letter sent to Tech Companies from Chairman Andrew N. Ferguson,” US Federal Trade Commission, August 21, 2025, https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/ftc-unfair-security-letter-ferguson.pdf.
105    Propp, “Talking Past Each Other.”
106    “Announcement of Actions to Combat the Global Censorship-Industrial Complex,” US Department of State, press release, December 23, 2025, https://www.state.gov/releases/office-of-the-spokesperson/2025/12/announcement-of-actions-to-combat-the-global-censorship-industrial-complex/.
107    “Statement by the European Commission on the U.S. Decision to impose travel restrictions on certain EU individuals,” European Commission, press release, December 23, 2025,  https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/statement_25_3160.
108    “EU Strategic Dependencies and Capacities: Second Stage of In-Depth Reviews,” European Commission, February 22, 2022, https://www.wec-italia.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/STRATEGIC-DEPENDENCIES-2022.pdf.
109    “Doctrine ‘Cloud au Centre’ sur l’Usage de l’Informatique en Nuage au Sein de l’État,” Government of the Republic of France, July 5, 2021, https://www.transformation.gouv.fr/files/presse/Circulaire-n6282-SG-5072021-doctrineuutilisation-informatique-en-nuage-Etat.pdf.
110    Laura Kabelka, “Sovereignty Requirements Remain in Cloud Certification Scheme Despite Backlash,” Euractiv, July 16, 2022, https://www.euractiv.com/news/sovereignty-requirements-remain-in-cloud-certification-scheme-despite-backlash.
111    “2024 National Trade Estimate Report on Foreign Trade Barriers,” Office of the US Trade Representative, March 2024, https://ustr.gov/sites/default/files/2024%20NTE%20Report_1.pdf.
112    Floris Hulshoff Pol, “EU Drops Sovereignty Rules for US Cloud Providers,” Techzine, April 4, 2024, https://www.techzine.eu/news/privacy-compliance/118401/eu-drops-sovereignty-rules-for-u-s-cloud-providers/.
113    Reynald Fléchaux, “EUCS, la Certification Cloud Européenne qui Menace de Désarmer SecNumCloud,” CIO, September 12, 2024, https://www.cio-online.com/actualites/lire-eucs-la-certification-cloud-europeenne-qui-menace-de-desarmer-secnumcloud-15856.html.
114    Francesco Nicoli, “Mapping the Road Ahead for EU Public Procurement Reform,” Bruegel, March 21, 2025, https://www.bruegel.org/first-glance/mapping-road-ahead-eu-public-procurement-reform.
115    Théophane Hartmann, “European Industry Big Win: Germany, France Both Support Sovereign EU-Based Tech Infrastructure,” Euractiv, April 10, 2025, https://www.euractiv.com/news/european-industry-big-win-germany-france-both-support-sovereign-eu-based-tech-infrastructure/.
116    Michal Kobosko, “A European Recipe for Tech Sovereignty,” Parliament, July 30, 2025, https://www.theparliamentmagazine.eu/news/article/oped-a-european-recipe-for-tech-sovereignty.
117    For a detailed discussion of the challenges facing Eurostack and the more exclusionary version of EU digital sovereignty, see: Zach Meyers, Can the EU Reconcile Digital Sovereignty and Economic Competitiveness? Centre on Regulation in Europe, September 2025, https://cerre.eu/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/CERRE_Issue-Paper_EU-Competitiveness_Can-the-EU-reconcile-digital-sovereignty-and-economic-competitiveness.pdf.
118    “Clearing the Cloud,” Implement Consulting Group in collaboration with Google,November 2025, https://cms.implementconsultinggroup.com/media/uploads/articles/2025/European-digital-sovereignty/2025-Clearing-the-cloud.pdf.
119    See, for example: “Open Letter: European Industry Calls for Strong Commitment to Sovereign Digital Infrastructure, Euro-Stack, March 14, 2025, https://euro-stackletter.eu/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/EuroStack_Initiative_Letter_14-March-.pdf. The letter, signed by numerous European companies, argues for increased support to European industry to build a Eurostack, while not restricting access by non-EU companies.
120    “Joint Communication on an International Digital Strategy for the EU,”European Commission and EU High Representative for Foreign and Security Policy, June 5, 2025, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/library/joint-communication-international-digital-strategy-eu.
121    Amy Mackinnon, Jamie Dettmer, and Paul McLeary, “Europe Scrambles to Aid Ukraine after US Intelligence Cutoff,” Politico, March 8, 2025, https://www.politico.com/news/2025/03/08/europe-scrambles-to-aid-ukraine-after-us-intelligence-cutoff-00219678.
122    Andrea Shalal and Joey Roulette, “US Could Cut Ukraine’s Access to Starlink Internet Services over Minerals, Say Sources,” Reuters, February 22, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/us-could-cut-ukraines-access-starlink-internet-services-over-minerals-say-2025-02-22/.
123    For a discussion of the relationship between digital sovereignty and competitiveness, see: Christian Klein, “The Boss of SAP on Europe’s Botched Approach to Digital Sovereignty: It’s Time to Prioritise Code over Concrete,” Economist, August 25, 2025, https://www.economist.com/by-invitation/2025/08/25/the-boss-of-sap-on-europes-botched-approach-to-digital-sovereignty
124    “European Union,” Office of the United States Trade Representative, last visited December 11, 2025, https://ustr.gov/countries-regions/europe-middle-east/europe/european-union.
125    “G7 Roadmap for Cooperation on Data Free Flow with Trust,” Group of Seven, 2021, https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/609cf5e18fa8f56a3c162a43/Annex_2__Roadmap_for_cooperation_on_Data_Free_Flow_with_Trust.pdf;“G7 Leaders’ Statement on the Hiroshima AI Process,” Group of Seven,October 30, 2023, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/library/g7-leaders-statement-hiroshima-ai-process.
126    For details on the FedRAMP program, see: “FedRAMP Provides a Standardized, Reusable Approach to Security Assessment and Authorization for Cloud Service Offerings,” FedRAMP, last visited December 11, 2025, https://www.fedramp.gov.
127    For a discussion of the differences between FedRAMP and EUCS, see: Kenneth Propp, “Oceans Apart: The EU and US Cybersecurity Certification Standards for Cloud Services,” Cross Border Data Forum, June 27, 2023, https://www.crossborderdataforum.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Oceans-Apart-The-EU-and-US-Cybersecurity-Certification-Standards-for-Cloud-Services.pdf.
128    “2025 National Trade Estimate Report on Foreign Trade Barriers,” Office of the US Trade Representative, 2025, https://ustr.gov/sites/default/files/files/Press/Reports/2025NTE.pdf.

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Transatlantic cooperation on protecting minors online https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/transatlantic-cooperation-on-protecting-minors-online/ Wed, 14 Jan 2026 05:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=897128 There is widespread agreement among US and EU officials on the need to protect children online. US-EU dialogue on areas of commonality could facilitate a more efficient rollout of services and technologies to protect users.

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Bottom lines up front

  • While US and EU policies differ in their approaches to the regulation of the internet, recent policy roundtables made clear that there is agreement on the need to protect children online.
  • Areas of commonality include the use of primary legislation, an emphasis on platform design rather than censoring content, and the need to balance protection of children with other fundamental rights.
  • Further dialogue between the United States and the EU on these questions could help facilitate faster and more efficient rollout of services and technologies to protect users.

Executive summary

While US and European Union (EU) policies differ in their approaches to online safety and the regulation of the internet, there is agreement about the need to protect children online. That is one high-level takeaway from a recent round of US-EU dialogue hosted by the Centre on Regulation in Europe (CERRE) and the Atlantic Council.

Such dialogue helps to identify common policy approaches for the protection of minors and common approaches to enforcing rules. Ultimately, it can also help facilitate faster and more efficient rollout of technologies to protect users. Dialogue will also help global platforms develop services to comply with rules and expectations on both sides of the Atlantic.

At the recent roundtable hosted by CERRE and the Atlantic Council, the synergies and differences in regulatory approaches and philosophies on both sides of the Atlantic centred on four themes. For each theme, some common threads seemed ripe for further discussion and cooperation.

  • New legislation and approaches to enforcement: In terms of the overall governance landscape, legislation has a key role to play in Europe and in the United States, where long-standing federal rules have been supported by an increasing number of state laws.The bulk of legislation in the EU—such as the Digital Services Act (DSA)—is adopted at the EU level, while some member states are adopting supplementary rules. In the United States, most legislation is now being adopted at the state level. Public enforcement by regulators plays a big role in the EU and the United Kingdom (UK). In the United States, state attorneys general are taking action to enforce rules, with powers similar to those of regulators in Europe. More alignment and cooperation on enforcement would be beneficial. Private enforcement through courts is also possible but, while this is already widespread in the United States, it is just emerging in Europe.
  • The harms from which children should be protected: On both sides of the Atlantic, there is a large degree of alignment on the harms from which children need to be protected. A strong commonality is that rules in Europe and the US both require compliance by design to avoid particularly harmful conduct, such as unwanted contact by unknown adults. Other common design elements include data minimization, which is a central component of the European Commission’s guidelines on protecting minors under Article 28 of the DSA and in the UK Office of Communication’s (Ofcom) age-appropriate design code and guidance under the Online Safety Act (OSA).
  • Balancing rights: To balance the protection of fundamental rights (in particular, privacy and freedom of expression) against the need to protect children, there is widespread agreement that everyone—not just children—deserves protections online. The EU, UK, and United States are all cautious about dictating which content is acceptable online and are instead converging on approaches that require platforms to use processes and systems to ensure safety by design. Ensuring the protection of fundamental rights is a common concern and, ultimately, a matter of balance, including at the enforcement level.
  • Age verification: Current debates about banning access to social media and about age verification are critical in Europe and in the United States, both in general and in relation to certain types of platforms (particularly those that host pornographic content). There is no agreement on a single type of technology that should be used, but there are prototypes and guidance on the high-level principles that the technologies should reflect. There are similar discussions on both sides of the Atlantic about how to attribute responsibility for age assurance across the supply chain—i.e., where in the supply chain age verification should take place—and how the division of responsibilities between players in supply chains could work in practice.

Introduction

The EU has put in place important legal building blocks to protect children online. These include the DSA and the European Commission’s guidelines on Article 28 of the DSA, which require providers of platforms accessible to minors to “put in place appropriate and proportionate measures to ensure a high level of privacy, safety, and security of minors.”1 They also include the Audiovisual Media Services Directive (AVMSD), which contains rules to safeguard minors’ personal data and to protect children online, and the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), which provides rules on collection and processing of minors’ data. Other proposals yet to be finalized include the pending Digital Fairness Act (DFA) proposal and the Regulation on Child Sexual Abuse Material (CSAM).2 Member states retain certain powers to enact national laws to protect minors online.3

In the United States, the protection of minors online is an important consideration at both the federal and state levels. At the federal level, the Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA) proposal, the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act (COPPA) and the COPPA 2.0 proposal all seek to address certain aspects of children’s safety online (in particular, privacy, advertising, and CSAM).4 At the state level, California’s Age-Appropriate Design Code (CAADCA) has been challenged in court on First Amendment grounds.5 Other states, including Nebraska and Vermont, have recently adopted similar codes that they hope will withstand First Amendment scrutiny.6 Utah has also recently enacted a law to protect content-creating minors from financial exploitation and privacy violations.7

News headlines focus on apparent differences between US and European policies, which are spiraling into growing transatlantic tension. However, there is a large degree of alignment on the need to protect children online while also safeguarding fundamental rights such as privacy and freedom of expression.

The overall governance landscape

The European and US approaches are fairly aligned on some governance aspects of regulating child protection online. Since the adoption of its rules for video sharing platforms in 2018, the EU has embraced a legislative path to protect minors online.8 This legislative framework was strengthened in 2022 with the adoption of the DSA. Both the video sharing platform rules and the DSA are largely principle based and rely on a form of collaboration with the industry,placing the onus on the platforms themselves to decide what constitutes an appropriate and proportionate level of protection for minors. The UK has also adopted a legislative path with the OSA and the detailed guidance produced by Ofcom.9 Like the DSA, the OSA adopts a risk-based approach, with the larger and riskier platforms subject to stricter measures. The UK regulator, Ofcom, has supplemented the legislation with detailed guidance.

The European Commission recently adopted guidelines to help online platforms understand and comply with their obligations under Article 28 of the DSA, including setting out a list of recommendations for platforms, but these are nonbinding. Safety by design is at the heart of the guidelines. The EU’s legislative approach focuses on ensuring platforms put in place systems and processes, while steering away from regulating the type of content that should be outlawed.

So far, the EU’s legislative framework has not led to a full harmonization of approaches to protect minors, and some member states have adopted more restrictive approaches. For example, France, Germany, Ireland, and Italy have adopted supplementary legislation to protect minors from harmful content such as online pornography.10

In the United States, the federal government has adopted legislation such as the COPPA to tackle some problematic areas such as the need to protect minors’ personal data.11 Despite heightened partisanship in Congress, leaders of both the Republican and Democratic Parties have expressed interest in supporting additional bipartisan legislation to protect children online.12 Although there is less appetite for federal legislation with binding obligations on platforms in terms of platform liability, there is appetite at the state level to embrace the legislative path, and safety by design is the cornerstone of many of these initiatives.13 That being said, the Kids Online Safety Act (a federal initiative) received the support of sixty co-sponsors at the federal level, which shows that this is an area with some bipartisan support. The EU and the United States are also converging on some important aspects: more obligations are placed on larger platforms; there is an emphasis on protection and safety by design; and there is no “one size fits all” solution.

There is broad consensus among experts that, irrespective of geopolitical tensions, there has never been so much space for alignment at the policy level between different jurisdictions—and between Europe and the United States in particular. This is partly because Europe (with the DSA at the EU level and the OSA in the UK) takes a systemic risk approach and does not focus on moderating individual pieces of content. That places responsibility on the platforms to have processes and systems in place to design safe spaces at the outset.

There are also similarities in public and private enforcement of norms. In the EU and the UK, regulators play an important role in making sure that industry complies with the DSA, the AVMSD, and the OSA. In the United States, even if new federal laws are adopted, the creation of a dedicated federal regulator to publicly enforce the legislation is unlikely, though existing agencies such as the US Federal Trade Commission already have a remit over some of these issues. At the state level, attorneys general are empowered to enforce COPPA via civil actions despite it being a federal law. State attorneys general have many enforcement tools at their disposal, including the power to undertake industry-wide investigations. These are broadly in line with the enforcement powers of national competent authorities and the European Commission under the DSA (and Ofcom under the OSA). On both sides of the Atlantic, private enforcement through courts is also set to play an important role, though, to date, it has been more common in the United States than in either the EU or UK.

Harms against which children should be protected

In the EU, the harms against which children should be protected are potentially very wide and are not specifically defined in the DSA, which refers only to protecting minors’ “privacy, safety and security.”14 Furthermore, member states are free to set their own rules provided they are in the line with EU legislation.

Some harms are outlawed at the EU level, such as the sharing of child sexual abuse material, dark patterns (i.e., deceptive techniques used by online platforms to manipulate users’ behavior), the processing of minors’ personal data without the consent of parents, and the sending of targeted advertising to children based on profiling.15 US policy initiatives at the state and federal levels also identify these harms as targets for regulation. The dissemination of child sexual abuse material, for example, is already a criminal offense.

A strong focus of legislation to protect minors on both sides of the Atlantic is to make sure that children cannot be contacted on platforms by unknown adults. At the state level (Vermont in particular) lawmakers frame these as safety bills to avoid framing them as content regulation, which could bring challenges on First Amendment grounds. These design architecture elements, such as default settings that prevent children being findable, are also central in the European Commission’s guidelines on Article 28 of the DSA in the UK Information Commissioner’s Office’s age-appropriate design code and in Ofcom guidance under the OSA.16

Data minimization (meaning only a minimum amount of data can be gathered and processed) is seen as critical to mitigating harms in general, because there is a strong correlation between collecting vast amounts of data about children’s behavior online and using the data to target minors with harmful content. Also, data minimization could lead to stronger protection for all users. While enforcing data minimization principles is a challenge, it can be done. In the UK, for example, Ofcom is required to work closely with the data protection authority. Operational coherence and cooperation between regulators are crucial in this area.

Balancing fundamental rights

The debate about balancing the need to protect children against the protection of certain fundamental rights (especially privacy, freedom of expression, and the rights of the child) is critical in the United States and in Europe. Initiatives in Europe and the United States tend to focus on tools and processes to protect minors, but steer away from regulating content on the platforms. Despite this, there is mounting debate regarding whether laws are creating a form of censorship or unlawfully constraining free speech, limiting users’ choices, or infringing on the rights of children. The question is wider than the need to protect children online, in the sense that some content can be inherently dangerous for some individuals whereas that same content might not be harmful for another person (minor or adult). This need to protect users from harmful (but legal) content is the most difficult to reconcile with the need to protect freedom of speech and the need for data minimization.

In the United States, the question is being argued in court. Some federal courts have ruled that laws requiring age verification are unconstitutional because they undermine the US Constitution’s First Amendment and threaten privacy rights.17 Age verification laws are being challenged by NetChoice (a coalition of tech companies) and by free speech coalitions. The Supreme Court recently ruled that the age verification law in Texas does not violate the First Amendment because it only requires proof of age to access content that is obscene to minors; it does not directly regulate adults’ speech.18 In both the EU and the United States, a considerable amount of policy work and research is being conducted on how to balance safety and privacy, especially in the context of age assurance requirements.19

At the EU level, the debate about balancing rights was not prominent while the DSA and the AVMSD were being adopted, probably because the rules were principles based and did not mention bans or age verification per se. Furthermore, the DSA contains safeguards to protect fundamental rights, such as giving users’ the right to challenge content moderation decisions (such as removals of posts, demotions of content, and account suspensions). The central article on the protection of minors in the DSA (Article 28) assumes that there cannot be safety for minors unless other rights, such as privacy, are protected as well.

Now that the DSA is being enforced, the protection of minors has become an enforcement priority for the European Commission, and some member states are calling for bans on children accessing social media platforms, some political parties are questioning the legislation and the push for age verification solutions on free speech grounds. This debate is particularly intense in the context of the regulation on the fight against CSAM, which the European Parliament and the Council of the EU are amending in an attempt to reduce the impacts of CSAM detection mechanisms on privacy, particularly in the context of end-to-end encryption.

The ultimate goal should be to protect everyone online, not just minors. This would avoid the need to put in place age assurance and age verification.

The debates on getting the balance right on the need to protect minors online and the need to protect some fundamental rights are crystallizing on age verification and on proposals for an outright ban on access to social media for children.

To date, there is no outright ban at the EU level on children accessing social media. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen had pledged to examine the questionwith the help of a panel of experts originally scheduled to be set up before the end of 2025.20 Some member states are also discussing the option of a social media ban for children.21 There is a strong call in the commission’s recently adopted guidelines under the DSA for certain platforms (such as adult content platforms) to prevent children from accessing them. Also, the Danish presidency of the EU and ministers from twenty-five member states recently adopted the Jutland Declaration, which welcomed “assessments” of a digital majority age.22 This assessment could help to determine the age at which minors should be allowed access to social media and other digital services—“giving them more time to enjoy life without an invasive online presence.”23 This question is also high on the agenda in the United States, with some states requiring social media to ban minors from accessing them (or requiring parental consent for a minor to have an account).24

On age verification, there is no mandatory technology at the EU level, but the EU guidelines on the protection of minors adopted under the DSA set out principles that age verification technology used by online platforms should meet.25 In particular, the systems should be based on the “double anonymity” principle. According to this principle, the platform knows the age of users without identifying them, whereas an external site—which carries out the age verification by issuing a token—does not know which site the user will visit. The EU is also about to launch an EU mini-wallet as a temporary solution, pending the adoption of national solutions.26 Some member states have also set requirements on age verification that are enforced by national regulators.

In the UK, the OSA has just entered into force, and the biggest and most popular adult platforms such as Pornhub must now deploy age checks for users based in the UK. Other platforms—including Bluesky, Discord, Reddit, and X—have also announced that they will deploy age assurance in the UK as a result of the act. This has led to a surge in virtual private network (VPN) downloads, which shows the importance of global alignment where possible.

In the United States, as noted above, state legislation imposing age verification is subject to frequent court challenges.27 As in Europe, there is little agreement among the states on the methods and tools to use when verifying the age of online users. Also, like in Europe, states seem to recognize that age assurance alone is not the solution.

On both sides of the Atlantic, the debates are similar in practice, including debates regarding how to attribute responsibility for age assurance across the supply chain (i.e., at what level age verification should take place, whether at the app store layer or by individual applications or websites). Questions about where verification happens raise additional questions about the extent to which other players in the chain can rely on this, or whether relying on a single point of verification could undermine safety by discouraging applications and websites from making their own assessments.

About the author

Michèle Ledger is a researcher at the Research Centre in Information, Law and Society (CRIDS) of the University of Namur where she also lectures on the regulatory aspects of online platforms at the postmaster degree course. She has been working for more than twenty years at Cullen International and leads the company’s Media regulatory intelligence service.

This issue brief benefits from the insights of discussants at an online roundtable on EU-US regulatory co-operation hosted jointly by CERRE and the Atlantic Council. However, the contents of this brief are attributable only to the author.

About CERRE

Providing high-quality studies and dissemination activities, the Centre on Regulation in Europe (CERRE) is a not-for-profit think tank. It promotes robust and consistent regulation in Europe’s network, digital industry, and service sectors. CERRE’s members are regulatory authorities and companies operating in these sectors, as well as universities.

CERRE’s added value is based on

  • its original, multidisciplinary, and cross-sector approach covering a variety of markets (e.g., energy, mobility, sustainability, technology, media, and telecommunications);
  • the widely acknowledged academic credentials and policy experience of its research team and associated staff members;
  • its scientific independence and impartiality; and
  • the direct relevance and timeliness of its contributions to the policy and regulatory development process impacting network industry players and the markets for their goods and services.

CERRE’s activities include contributions to the development of norms, standards, and policy recommendations related to the regulation of service providers, to the specification of market rules, and to improvements in the management of infrastructure in a changing political, economic, technological, and social environment. CERRE’s work also aims to clarify the respective roles of market operators, governments, and regulatory authorities, as well as contribute to the enhancement of those organizations’ expertise in addressing regulatory issues of relevance to their activities.

About the Atlantic Council

The Atlantic Council promotes constructive leadership and engagement in international affairs based on the Atlantic community’s central role in meeting global challenges. The council provides an essential forum for navigating the dramatic economic and political changes defining the twenty-first century by informing and galvanizing its uniquely influential network of global leaders. The Atlantic Council—through the papers it publishes, the ideas it generates, the future leaders it develops, and the communities it builds—shapes policy choices and strategies to create a more free, secure, and prosperous world.

The Atlantic Council’s Europe Center conducts research and uses real-time analysis to inform the actions and strategies of key transatlantic decision-makers in the face of great-power competition and a geopolitical rewiring of Europe. The center convenes US and European leaders to promote dialogue and make the case for the US-EU partnership as a key asset for the United States and Europe alike. The center’s Transatlantic Digital Marketplace Initiative seeks to foster greater US-EU understanding and collaboration on digital policy matters and makes recommendations for building cooperation and ameliorating differences in this fast-growing area of the transatlantic economy.

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1    “Regulation (EU) 2022/2065 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 19 October 2022 on a Single Market for Digital Services and Amending Directive 2000/31/EC,” European Union, October 19, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2022/2065/oj; “Communication from the Commission—Guidelines on Measures to Ensure a High Level of Privacy, Safety and Security for Minors Online, Pursuant to Article 28(4) of Regulation (EU) 2022/2065,” European Union, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=OJ:C_202505519.
2    “Proposal for a Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council Laying Down Rules to Prevent and Combat Child Sexual Abuse,” European Union, May 11, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=celex:52022PC0209; “Digital Fairness Act,” European Commission, last visited December 22, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/info/law/better-regulation/have-your-say/initiatives/14622-Digital-Fairness-Act_en.
3    Miriam Buiten, Michèle Ledger, and Christoph Busch, “DSA Implementation Forum: Protection of Minors,” Centre on Regulation in Europe, March 25, 2025, https://cerre.eu/publications/dsa-implementation-forum-protection-of-minors/.
4    A new version of the KOSA has been introduced in Congress with changes in an attempt to clarify that KOSA does not censor, limit, or remove content from the internet. “Blumenthal, Blackburn, Thune & Schumer Introduce the Kids Online Safety Act,” Office of Senator Richard Blumenthal, press release, May 14, 2025, https://www.blumenthal.senate.gov/newsroom/press/release/blumenthal-blackburn-thune-and-schumer-introduce-the-kids-online-safety-act; “Children’s Online Privacy Protection Rule,” Federal Trade Commission, April 22, 2025, https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2025/04/22/2025-05904/childrens-online-privacy-protection-rule; “S.1418—Children and Teens’ Online Privacy Protection Act,” US Congress, July 27, 2023, https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/1418/text.
5    “AB-2273: The California Age-Appropriate Design Code Act,” California Legislative Information, November 18, 2022, https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billCompareClient.xhtml?bill_id=202120220AB2273&showamends=false; “NetChoice v. Rob Bonta, Attorney General of the State of California, D.C. No. 5:22-cv-08861- BLF,” US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, August 16, 2024, https://cdn.ca9.uscourts.gov/datastore/opinions/2024/08/16/23-2969.pdf.
6    For a comparison between both initiatives see: Bailey Sanchez, “Vermont and Nebraska: Diverging Experiments in State Age-Appropriate Design Codes,” Future of Privacy Forum, June 4, 2025, https://fpf.org/blog/vermont-and-nebraska-diverging-experiments-in-state-age-appropriate-design-codes.
7    “Child Actor Regulation,” State of Utah, 2025, https://le.utah.gov/Session/2025/bills/enrolled/HB0322.pdf.
8    “Directive (EU) 2018/1808 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 14 November 2018 Amending Directive 2010/13/EU on the Coordination of Certain Provisions Laid Down by Law, Regulation or Administrative Action in Member States Concerning the Provision of Audiovisual Media Services (Audiovisual Media Services Directive) in View of Changing Market Realities,” Article 28b, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/dir/2018/1808/oj/eng.
9    “Online Safety Regulatory Documents and Guidance,” Ofcom, last updated December 15, 2025, https://www.ofcom.org.uk/online-safety/online-safety-regulatory-documents.
10    Michèle Ledger, “Protection of Minors: Age Assurance,” Centre on Regulation in Europe, March 2025, https://cerre.eu/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/CERRE-DSA-Forum-Age-Assurance.pdf.
11    “Part 312—Children’s Online Privacy Protection Rule (COPPA Rule),” Code of Federal Regulations, last updated April 22, 2025, https://www.ecfr.gov/current/title-16/chapter-I/subchapter-C/part-312.
12    “Chairmen Guthrie and Bilirakis Announce Legislative Hearing on Protecting Children and Teens Online,” Office of Energy and Commerce Chairman Brett Guthrie, press release, November 25, 2025, https://energycommerce.house.gov/posts/chairmen-guthrie-and-bilirakis-announce-legislative-hearing-on-protections-for-children-and-teens-online.
13    “Public Interest Privacy Center Releases Updated State Law Maps,” Public Interest Privacy Center, press release, May 29, 2025, https://publicinterestprivacy.org/state-law-maps.
14    “Article 71 Commitments—the Digital Services Act,” European Union, last visited January 3, 2025, https://www.eu-digital-services-act.com/Digital_Services_Act_Article_71.html.
15    The European Commission defines dark patterns as unfair commercial practices deployed through the structure, design, or functionalities of digital interfaces or system architecture that can influence consumers to take decisions they would not have taken otherwise. “Questions and Answers on the Digital Fairness Fitness Check,” European Commission, October 2, 2024, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/fi/qanda_24_4909.
16    “Age Appropriate Design: A Code of Practice for Online Services,” Information Commissioner’s Office, last visited December 22, 2025, https://ico.org.uk/for-organisations/uk-gdpr-guidance-and-resources/childrens-information/childrens-code-guidance-and-resources/age-appropriate-design-a-code-of-practice-for-online-services/.
17    Ibid.
18    Texas Legislature, Relating to the publication or distribution of sexual material harmful to minors on an Internet website; providing a civil penalty, HB 1181, Passed June 12, 2023, https://capitol.texas.gov/billlookup/History.aspx?LegSess=88R&Bill=HB1181; “Free Speech Coalition, Inc., et al. v. Paxton, Attorney General of Texas,” US Supreme Court, June 17, 2025, https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/24pdf/23-1122_3e04.pdf.
19    Stephen Balkam and Andrew Zack, “Balancing Safety and Privacy: A Proportionate Age Assurance Approach,” Family Online Safety Institute, October 10, 2025, https://fosi.org/policy/balancing-safety-and-privacy-a-proportionate-age-assurance-approach/.
20    “2025 State of the Union Address by President von der Leyen,” European Commission, September 9, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/ov/SPEECH_25_2053.
21    In particular, these states include Denmark, Greece, France, Spain, Italy, Ireland, and Poland.
22    “The Jutland Declaration: Shaping a Safe Online World for Minors,” Danish Presidency, Council of the European Union, October 10, 2025, https://www.digmin.dk/Media/638956829775203140/DIGMIN_The%20Jutland%20Declaration%20Shaping%20a%20Safe%20Online%20World%20for%20Minors%20101025.pdf.
23    Ibid., 2.
24    These states include Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Ohio, and Utah.
25    These principles concern accuracy, reliability, robustness, privacy and data protection safeguards, and non-discrimination.
26    “Communication from the Commission.”
27    “Age Assurance & Age Verification Laws in the United States,” Centre for Information Policy Leadership, September 2024, https://www.informationpolicycentre.com/uploads/5/7/1/0/57104281/cipl_age_assurance_in_the_us_sept24.pdf.

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Singapore must shift from state-led expansion to productivity-led growth https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/singapore-must-shift-from-state-led-expansion-to-productivity-led-growth/ Fri, 09 Jan 2026 14:44:37 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=896983 Singapore’s GDP has tripled since the 1990s. Now the city-state needs a new social compact that matches its high-income status. Creating space for productivity, entrepreneurship, and open debate will decide whether Singapore’s prosperity benefits more Singaporeans—or becomes increasingly fragile.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The “Singapore model” of a market economy under heavy government direction has led to strong headline numbers that obscure signs of significant stress.
  • High land and housing costs, extreme inequality, and a very low fertility rate suggest that everyday life feels precarious for many in one of the world’s richest cities.
  • Singapore needs a new playbook—otherwise the model may start to look more like a warning.

This is the fourth chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas. The Atlas analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

Singapore’s post-independence development strategy was clear and, for a long time, well suited to the country’s advantages and constraints. A free port under British colonial rule since 1819, Singapore separated from Malaysia in 1965, which made continued outward orientation an existential necessity for the city-state’s survival. Developed-country trade liberalization encouraged offshore sourcing by multinationals, enabling Singapore’s government to build an export-oriented economy anchored in foreign direct investment. It prioritized manufacturing, later adding high-end services, and used targeted industrial policy to achieve its priorities. The strategy was reinforced by disciplined macroeconomic management, public investment in world-class infrastructure, and efficient public administration.

But what made the approach distinctive was not just openness to trade and investment—it was also the degree to which the state integrated regulatory, proprietorial, and allocative power. The government planned land use, owned most of the land base, channeled compulsory savings, and exercised strategic ownership through sovereign wealth funds and government-linked companies. This tight coupling of state and market produced order and speed and made full use of a global economic environment that favored openness. At the same time, however, it embedded government discretion at the center of daily life.

The economic engine was an extensive growth model, which expanded output by adding capital and labor to a fixed land base, rather than by sustained gains in total factor productivity. Singapore incentivized multinationals to produce in the country, scaled public investment, and—critically—liberalized foreign labor inflows to keep costs predictable. That choice made sense when the priority was to build a platform economy quickly. It is less convincing as a path to future prosperity. Heavy reliance on lower-wage foreign workers depresses incentives to automate, redesign jobs, and raise productivity. At the same time, large inflows of higher-skilled foreigners add to demand for scarce urban resources and amenities, especially housing, putting pressure on prices and widening social distance. Such social distance is seen where differences in income, opportunities, and daily living conditions deepen divides between groups. In such a system, the state can point to impressive aggregate outcomes while households at the lower end experience stagnant real wages and rising costs.


Households at the lower end experience stagnant real wages and rising costs.

Institutionally, Singapore has combined strong commercial rule of law and administrative capability with persistently narrow political competition. Elections are regular and cleanly administered, but contestation is constrained. The playing field is shaped by districting changes implemented shortly before each election; official campaign periods that last just nine days; and a long tradition of filing defamation actions against critics, including for statements made during the hustings. Mainstream media is not fully independent—there is substantive state ownership and oversight—and online speech is governed by broad statutes that give the executive sweeping, fast-acting powers. Passage of POFMA (Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act) in 2019 and FICA (Foreign Interference [Countermeasures] Act) in 2021 was justified by the government as defenses against misinformation and foreign interference, but the measures have also generated uncertainty about what is out of bounds. In practice, the fear and reality of punishment lead risk-averse citizens and institutions to overcomply. The effect is anticipatory discipline, more than visible coercion, engendering a climate in which people self-censor and where policy debate narrows.

The legal environment reinforces this equilibrium. Singapore courts are efficient, free from corruption, and commercially reliable—central reasons investors locate there. But the same state that regulates also owns land, large companies, and the largest pools of domestic savings. Political appointments, the use of civil defamation in political contexts, and the fusion of political and administrative authority create ambiguity for anyone engaged in contentious public speech or organizing. For most commercial actors, rules are clear and enforcement swift; for citizens considering robust political contestation, the boundaries are less legible and the costs potentially high. That asymmetry lowers the expected return on civic initiative and removes information the state needs for timely course correction.

The tight state-economy nexus is particularly visible in land, housing, savings, and capital allocation. Because the government owns nearly all the land and leases public housing on 99-year terms, “market prices” are necessarily shaped by policy. The Central Provident Fund (CPF) holds employees’ mandatory savings (currently amounting to 37 percent of employee compensation) and links a very large share of it to housing purchases and other government-defined uses. The sovereign wealth funds Temasek and GIC intermediate large public assets and maintain strategic holdings in major enterprises, while government-linked companies dominate substantial portions of the corporate landscape. This architecture has delivered order, speed, and scale. It has also raised economy-wide prices, encouraged rent extraction through asset inflation, and tilted returns toward capital and land rather than labor. When the state is everywhere—as de facto landlord, employer, investor, banker, business partner, regulator, customer, supplier, and even competitor in the provision of goods and services beyond public goods—experimentation by private enterprise narrows, not by prohibition but by crowding out, and by the rational impulse to align with official priorities, especially when reliant on the state for incentives or sales.

These facts sit awkwardly with conventional measures of “economic freedom,” such as those produced by the Fraser Institute or Heritage Foundation, which reward contract enforcement, low tariffs, and investment openness, have historically placed Singapore at top positions in their indexes. The economic pillar of the Freedom Index, mainly based on these same external sources, consequently ranks Singapore as the eighth most economically free country among the 164 nations covered. Those measures capture real policy strengths, but rankings such as these cannot capture how a directed ecosystem works on the ground when the state chooses where investment is most desired, sets the volume and terms of labor inflows, prices land it largely controls, and deploys large public capital to back favored sectors. Under such conditions, entrepreneurship is not forbidden, but it is less central to the model than in economies where the state is smaller and competition wider. A rules-based marketplace can coexist with discretionary steering from above. The visible results—macro stability, fast approvals, coordination in areas the state prioritizes—are valuable. But hidden costs—muted productivity incentives, lower household consumption, and limited diffusion of capability—accrue slowly and become apparent only when the external environment turns unfriendly.

Some might argue that Singapore’s example indicates that political freedom is unnecessary for economic development. After gaining independence, the government justified expanded restrictions on labor, media, and freedom of association as necessary to ensure political stability and attract foreign direct investment (FDI). But these restrictions remain in place even as South Korea and Taiwan, formerly authoritarian regimes, showed that political liberalization and a more participatory system could reinforce and enhance, not undermine, stability as economies mature (see Figure 1). In Singapore, constraints on expression—including in academia—reduce the diversity and depth of policy discussions. When dissent is costly and information selectively released, the system hears less from those who see problems first: low-wage workers, squeezed middle-class families, independent researchers, and small firms facing rising costs. This is not an abstract normative concern but rather a practical handicap in a complex, rapidly changing economy.

Figure 1. Political liberalization did not slow economic growth in South Korea or Taiwan

Gross domestic product per capita (purchasing power parity-adjusted, in 2021 constant international dollars) was obtained from the IMF data portal. The Political Rights component has been extended back to 1980 using V-Dem data and the same methodology as in the Freedom and Prosperity Indexes.

Evolution of prosperity

Singapore’s achievements on headline income are undeniable. Gross domestic product per capita has tripled since 1990, placing the country among the richest in the world. The Prosperity Index also records the country’s high levels of life expectancy and educational attainment. Singapore joined the world’s most developed countries several decades ago. These are the peers with which it should be compared, not its lower-income regional neighbors, particularly since the Singapore model of growth is clearly distinct from that of other high-income nations. An extensive growth model powered by factor accumulation leaves characteristic fingerprints. Singapore runs large current-account surpluses (over 20 percent of GDP annually since 2005) and builds fiscal buffers (persistent large budget surpluses); public investment is high; private consumption is low by advanced-economy standards; and productivity growth has been episodic outside a few frontier activities. This is the logic by which the system operates: Singapore prioritizes external competitiveness, recycles surpluses into foreign assets, and leans on a managed exchange-rate regime to hold down imported inflation and to maintain credibility. The main questions behind the numbers are how broadly they translate to all social strata and whether the current model is sustainable in the long run.


When dissent is costly and information selectively released, the system hears less from those who see problems first: low-wage workers, squeezed middle-class families, independent researchers, and small firms facing rising costs.

The inequality component of the Prosperity Index gives a visual answer to the first question. Compared to the Nordic European countries, Singapore has a much higher level of income inequality (see Figure 2). Other distributional measures, such as an estimated 0.7 Gini coefficient in terms of wealth inequality, point to the same conclusion. What’s more, these numbers most likely underestimate the actual level of inequality in Singapore. Most OECD countries include all legal immigrants (permanent and temporary residents) when estimating inequality, but Singapore excludes non-permanent immigrants, though they account for 39 percent of the labor force and are concentrated at the lower end of the income distribution. The country’s official measures of inequality (a 2024 Gini coefficient of 0.435 before and 0.364 after taxes and transfers) also exclude non-labor income, more than half the total. The real inequality gap in Singapore, compared with other developed countries, is probably much wider than estimated, while Singaporeans’ share of national income has almost certainly shrunk since 2014, the last time this number was released. Socioeconomic inequality is a direct product of the Singapore model, which generates costs borne by households through higher local-currency prices, crowding out of small and medium enterprises, thin wage growth at the base, and a muted share of national income going to labor and citizens.

Figure 2. Income inequality is higher in Singapore than in Scandinavian countries

Labor-market design is central to these outcomes. Liberal foreign-worker inflows have long been used to match demand cycles, contain wage pressures, and deliver what has been referred to as “labor peace.” Over time, this has reduced the incentive for employers to automate or redesign low-productivity work. A dual structure persists. At one end, a sizeable segment of the economy depends on low-paying, physically demanding and risky jobs that do not lead to productivity ladders for residents. At the other end, inflows of professionals and executives meet genuine skills needs but also fuel demand for scarce urban resources and amenities, especially housing, raising costs and intensifying competition for positional goods and elite educational tracks. The structure widens the gap between those at the lower and upper ends of the economy without building domestic capability commensurate with the country’s income level.


The real inequality gap in Singapore, compared with other developed countries, is probably much wider than estimated
.

Housing and savings amplify the distributional effects. Singapore links a very large share of forced savings to Housing and Development Board (HDB) purchases on 99-year leases, with 76 percent of the population (down from 85 percent) housed in these government-run properties. When home values rise, owners enjoy wealth effects; when leases age and policy signals shift, uncertainty grows for households that cannot easily diversify. Land prices—set in a market the state effectively controls—ripple through business costs and wages. The expectation of continuing asset inflation encourages rent-seeking over entrepreneurship and leads families to shoulder significant leverage. A model that relies on rising asset prices to sustain consumption in a city of high living costs is one that exposes households to policy-driven valuation risk. It also depresses fertility (the 0.97 total fertility rate is among the world’s lowest) by increasing the cost of raising children in an expensive, dense, competitive urban environment.

Singapore’s 37 percent labor share of national income has been low relative to its peers, while gross operating surplus and property-related incomes loom large, at 54 percent. Government-linked firms and multinationals dominate many input and output markets, crowding out smaller domestic enterprises. Private consumption’s share of GDP (36 percent in 2024, down from 49 percent in 2001) is strikingly low for an advanced economy. These features set Singapore apart from the most prosperous and inclusive societies, where thicker wage floors, broader diffusion of capability, and less reliance on asset inflation anchor the social contract.

Education and health present a complex picture. Attainment is high and standardized test scores in math and science rank among the world’s best. But in a relentlessly competitive school system, there are concerns that heavy reliance on private tuition (70 percent of students) contributes to unequal educational outcomes and diminished social mobility by giving an advantage to those whose families can afford the extra expenditure. Additionally, translating education into broad-based opportunity is uneven since the economic structure does not generate enough high-productivity, middle-income jobs for residents outside elite tracks. Without stronger productivity growth at the firm level—driven by job redesign, automation, and diffusion of best practice—credentials do not guarantee commensurate wages. On the health front, a technocratic system achieves strong population outcomes (in terms of average life expectancy) at relatively low public cost, but it deliberately shifts financial risk to households through compulsory savings and copayments. In a city with high living costs and thin wage growth at the base, that risk burden is felt keenly even when headline indicators look strong.

Externalities are increasingly salient. Sustaining growth through population increases and construction intensifies congestion and environmental stress in a tropical, high-density city increasingly beset by climate change (high temperatures, frequent floods, rising sea level). Industry clusters that anchor the export platform—energy-intensive manufacturing, petrochemicals, aviation-related services, data centers—carry emissions and transition risks that will be costlier to manage as climate policy tightens globally. Meanwhile, the shift to attracting family offices and private wealth poses reputational and security risks—from money-laundering and accusations of “Singapore-washing” (intermediating funds through Singapore to disguise their origin or destination) to international criminal syndicates and scammers who use Singapore as a hub for their illicit activities. The result of this shift is to concentrate purchasing power in neighborhoods and assets where residents already feel priced out, with only modest spillovers to domestic capability building and financial-market depth.

When the cost of dissent is high and data releases are selective, independent journalists, researchers, and civic groups struggle to map distributional outcomes in real time. That deprives policymakers of useful feedback, early warnings, and good ideas from outside the official complex. It also erodes trust. Citizens are more likely to accept difficult adjustments when they believe the system listens to their concerns and shares risk fairly. Today, too much downside is borne by households, which face rising prices and policy-shaped asset risks while being told that government largesse through periodic non-entitlement transfers will cushion the blow. Such discretionary transfers—conditional, temporary, inadequate, and uncertain—are inferior to market wages that rise with productivity and distort political preferences by making the citizenry beholden to the governing party. 

The path forward

Singapore will not succeed in the next decade by doing more of what worked in the last half-century. The world has changed. Globalization is retrenching, the international tolerance for mercantilist policies is narrowing, and great-power rivalry is intensifying with increased willingness to use economic pressure to exact political concessions. Regional competitors—from China to Vietnam and Indonesia—combine improving infrastructure and skills with labor costs Singapore cannot match. Subsidy races in major economies are reshaping value chains and contesting investment decisions with tools Singapore cannot or should not emulate at scale. The uncertain impact of technological disruption by artificial intelligence makes investment decisions difficult and complicates long-term planning. In this environment, doubling down on a model optimized for inflows of foreign labor and capital will yield diminishing returns and increasing vulnerabilities, while wasting scarce resources.

The first imperative is to move decisively from extensive to intensive growth. That means closely linking firm survival to productivity improvement. A credible path would temper reliance on lower-wage foreign labor in ways that raise the payoff from automation, process innovation, and job redesign—especially in service sectors where productivity lags and resident employment is concentrated. It will close some firms and raise costs for others in the short run, but without this shift, wages at the base will remain thin and inequality will worsen, no matter how many transfers the government can deploy. Complementary reforms should ensure that inflows of higher-skilled foreigners are aligned with building domestic capability rather than simply satisfying short-term demand and bidding up urban resource costs.


The political-legal setting must evolve in tandem with the economy.

Second, the scale and use of surpluses and reserves should be revisited, especially as the sovereign wealth funds which invest reserves have underperformed. A stronger exchange rate and slower reserve accumulation would lower imported inflation and relieve cost-of-living pressures. A larger share of fiscal resources can be redirected from broad corporate inducements and opaque industrial bets toward social spending that reduces household risk without dulling work and investment incentives. None of this implies fiscal profligacy or acting imprudently. It reflects a recognition that the opportunity cost of very large buffers, in a rich and aging society, includes foregone domestic investment in human capital, diffusion of capability, and life-cycle security.

Third, land and housing policy must be reoriented to lower systemic costs and reduce dependence on asset inflation. More retirement savings should be decoupled from housing, the long-term treatment of aging leases clarified, and the state’s control of land used to dampen, not amplify, economy-wide price pressures. Greater transparency around land pricing and HDB cost structures would improve trust and policy effectiveness, and enable better planning of investment decisions by households and businesses. Lower land costs would cascade through wages and prices, reduce the attraction of rent-seeking, and shift capital toward productive enterprise. It would also promote family formation by lowering the cost and uncertainty associated with housing, childcare, and eldercare.

Fourth, the growth playbook should move from picking winners at scale to catalyzing broad-based experimentation by private actors. Singapore has spent heavily, over decades, on research parks and sectoral “bets” that delivered mixed results. In a world where value is increasingly created in ideas, services, and intangibles, the priority should be to lower entry barriers, democratize access to data and infrastructure, and crowd in private risk-taking outside state-linked incumbents. Public capital can be powerful when it is allocated with discipline: to back competitive markets, not sustained rents; to fund diffusion of capability, not trophy projects; and to hold itself accountable to transparent criteria and sunset clauses.

Fifth, the political-legal setting must evolve in tandem with the economy. Removing the conflation of government and ruling party interest with the public interest, strengthening checks and balances on the executive’s exercise of powers, normalizing robust debate, and making distributional data routinely available would lower the implicit tax on civic initiative and improve policy through better feedback. Complex societies govern better when they listen widely and when the rules are clear and contestable—as evidenced by other Asian countries that have shown that political liberalization can coexist with order and strengthen legitimacy. Confidence in performance should reduce, not increase, the state’s reliance on ambiguity and speed in controlling speech and association.


Building institutions that allow competition in markets and ideas and that trust and empower ordinary citizens … is the surest way to keep Singapore exceptional.

Geopolitics adds urgency. Singapore cannot count indefinitely on frictionless access to foreign capital, technology, and markets. Practices once tolerated may be penalized. If the country continues to rely primarily on incentive-led FDI and imported labor in a city with high costs and rising environmental constraints, it will confront sharper trade-offs: either slower growth with rising inequality and social tension, or continued growth with greater external exposure and domestic fragility. Neither is an optimal strategy for the future.

The better alternative is a new “social compact” that matches the high-income status Singapore has achieved. It would place productivity and diffusion of capability at the center of economic strategy; align immigration and industrial policy with those goals; share risk more fairly with households; and widen the channels through which citizens can speak, organize, and help solve problems. It would move society from discretionary benevolence toward institutionalized confidence that rules are predictable and fair. It would sustain high income without leaning on ever-rising asset prices, grow wages at the base faster than the cost of essentials, and ease the pressures that make everyday life feel precarious to many in one of the world’s richest cities.

Singapore possesses the administrative capacity, fiscal resources, and human talent to make this transition. The PAP government, which has ruled for 66 years, faces no short- or even medium-term threat to its overwhelming hegemony. It recognizes the external and domestic challenges the economy faces, expresses concern about social mobility and social cohesion amid a “foreign-local divide,” and is attempting to “listen more” (albeit through channels and processes it controls). The government has even acknowledged that the model that got the country to where it is today is not the model that will take it further, because the world will not arrange itself to suit the old playbook. What it has not done is change the playbook. Instead, it is ratcheting up growth acceleration by placing bigger bets on “industries of the future” while holding on to established ones as a hub for “leading global firms.” Recognizing that “not everything will succeed,” the government argues that “if just one or two do, they can transform our economy and carry Singapore to the next level.” It is not moving toward political and intellectual liberalization, insisting instead that maintaining “social harmony”—given economic openness, racial and religious diversity, divisive social media and geopolitical tensions—requires holding fast to the tight rules of the past.

If Singapore changes its playbook, its freedom profile will become less lopsided—still strong on commercial rule of law and execution but balanced by more open contestation and clearer legal protections for speech. Its prosperity will be more inclusive and sustainable. Without the change, the headline numbers may stay impressive for a while, but the trade-offs will sharpen, and the miracle will appear less as a model to emulate and more as a cautionary warning. In the long run, a city-state’s greatest asset is the capability and confidence of its people. Building institutions that allow competition in markets and ideas and that trust and empower ordinary citizens, rather than domestic and foreign elites, is the surest way to keep Singapore exceptional.

about the author

Linda Y.C. Lim, professor emerita of corporate strategy and international business at the Stephen M. Ross School of Business, University of Michigan, has studied the Singapore economy for 50 years, and published other research on international trade and investment, women in the labor force, and overseas Chinese business in Southeast Asia. She co-edits AcademiaSG, an academic blog promoting scholarship “of/for/by Singapore.” 

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Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

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The evolution of Latvia’s defense and security policy in resilience building https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/the-evolution-of-latvias-defense-and-security-policy-in-resilience-building/ Fri, 02 Jan 2026 21:35:29 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895832 Latvia has embraced a broader concept of national resilience encompassing not only military strength but also the resilience of its society, the continuity of government and essential services during crises, the protection of critical infrastructure, and the cultivation of psychological defense among its populace.

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Table of contents

Executive summary

Latvia has significantly evolved its defense and security policy, focusing on national resilience as a cornerstone of its statehood, as analyzed in LVARes: The Evolution of Latvia’s Defense and Security Policy in Resilience Building, a project of the Centre for East European Policy Studies and the Atlantic Council. This transformation is anchored in Latvia’s Comprehensive National Defense (CND) framework, a whole-of-society strategy that integrates civilian, military, and private-sector efforts to deter aggression and manage crises. Key to this approach are legal underpinnings from evolving state defense concepts and amendments to foundational laws like the National Security Law.

Pillars of this resilience include ensuring the continuity of essential services and critical infrastructure, with a shift from mere asset protection to guaranteeing operational functionality through public-private partnerships and an enhanced role for municipalities. Regular exercises like Namejs and Pilskalns test these preparations.

To counter hybrid threats, Latvia formally recognizes the information space as a defense domain, implementing multilayered strategies that combine government-led strategic communications, support for independent media, civil-society engagement against disinformation, and international cooperation, notably through hosting the NATO Strategic Communications Center of Excellence. Societal resilience is further boosted by public-preparedness campaigns like “72 Hours: What to do in case of a crisis,” media literacy programs, and integrating national defense education, including psychological defense and nonviolent civil resistance, into curricula.

Significant reforms are modernizing Latvia’s crisis management, with the planned National Crisis Management Center (CMC) under the prime minister, centralizing coordination and decision-making. Civil-protection measures are strengthening as well, with new legislation for public shelters and updates to the State Civil Protection Plan.

International cooperation is indispensable, with NATO providing collective defense, the EU offering funding and policy coordination, and robust bilateral ties with the United States and regional cooperation with Baltic and Nordic partners. The LVARes project itself exemplifies Latvia’s proactive international engagement in studying national capabilities, raising awareness, and sharing best practices.

Challenges persist, including resource constraints, interagency coordination complexities, evolving threats, and the need to bolster societal cohesion. Future imperatives involve fully operationalizing the CMC, implementing the shelter program, sustained investment in capabilities, and deeper public engagement in CND. Strategic recommendations for policymakers emphasize CMC effectiveness, civil-protection investments, public-private partnerships, psychological resilience, volunteer engagement, and integrating nonviolent resistance. For international partners, continued support for Latvian capability development, amplifying LVARes findings, facilitating resilience benchmarking, and supporting cross-border exercises are crucial. Through these efforts, Latvia fortifies its security and contributes valuable lessons to the Euro-Atlantic community.

Introduction

The contemporary security environment is characterized by an array of complex and interconnected threats. These range from the potential for conventional military aggression to the more pervasive and persistent challenges of hybrid warfare, sophisticated information operations, and malicious cyber activities. Russia’s aggressive foreign policy and its full-scale war against Ukraine have significantly amplified these threats, underscoring the vulnerability of states in the region and the urgent need for robust national preparedness. Latvia’s position as a frontline state of both the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the European Union (EU), sharing a direct border with the Russian Federation, has inherently shaped its national security posture and necessitated a continuous adaptation of its defense strategies, pushing for an essential shift in Latvia’s defense thinking.

The traditional focus on military defense, while still fundamental, is increasingly understood as insufficient on its own. Consequently, Latvia has progressively embraced a broader concept of national resilience encompassing not only military strength but also the resilience of its society, the continuity of government and essential services during crises, the protection of critical infrastructure, and the cultivation of psychological defense among its populace. This evolution reflects a growing understanding that national security in the twenty-first century is a whole-of-society endeavor.

Latvia’s pursuit of national resilience is not confined to a single strategy but is realized through a multifaceted approach that addresses various dimensions of security. These include ensuring the operational continuity of essential services and the resilience of critical infrastructure, actively countering hybrid threats in the information and cyber domains, fostering broad societal resilience through public preparedness and education, and acknowledging the potential role of nonviolent civil resistance. The aim of this report is to systematically analyze the evolution in Latvia’s defense and security policy, particularly its implementation of a comprehensive national defense framework, and to share the insights and lessons learned with allies, partners, and the broader public to enhance collective security in the Euro-Atlantic region.

A comprehensive approach to defense and resilience

Latvia’s approach to national defense has undergone a significant evolution, moving from a primary focus on conventional military capabilities and professional military service orientation toward a more encompassing strategy known as Comprehensive National Defense (CND). Adopted in 2018, the CND system is designed to ensure security and crisis preparedness across all sectors of the state and society, thereby enhancing Latvia’s overall deterrence posture and its resilience against armed conflicts or a wide spectrum of potential crises. The overarching aims of CND are the following:

  • Preparing the Latvian population to actively participate in the defense of their country. 
  • Facilitating efficient and effective crisis management at the national level. 
  • Ensuring the continuity and support of critical state functions, including government operations, energy supply, healthcare, and logistics, even under duress. 

A fundamental and defining characteristic of Latvia’s CND is its “whole-of-society” approach, which recognizes that national defense and resilience are not the sole responsibility of the armed forces or government ministries but require the active involvement and cooperation of every element of society. This comprehensive vision entails the systematic integration of municipalities, the owners and managers of both public and private critical infrastructure (spanning sectors such as energy, communications, finance, and healthcare), nongovernmental organizations, the broader business community, and individual citizens into national defense planning and preparedness efforts. 

A significant emphasis within this approach is placed on building and nurturing mutual trust and robust partnerships between public authorities at all levels and private-sector entities. These collaborative efforts are seen as essential for creating a networked civil and military defense system where each component is prepared and able to work in sync. The success of the CND model hinges on the ability to overcome traditional challenges and foster a shared sense of responsibility for national security.

The whole-of-society approach is further strengthened through the way the CND is managed and its legal basis, both of which are designed as a multitiered framework to ensure a whole-of-government and -societal approach to national resilience. The management structure (detailed in Annex 1) integrates political leadership, ministerial responsibilities, operational agencies, local governments, and societal actors to prepare for and respond effectively to a diverse spectrum of threats, ranging from military aggression to civil emergencies. Whereas the framework of strategic concepts, national plans, legal acts, and supporting regulations (a detailed list provided in Annex 2) ensure that CND is not merely a theoretical construct but a systematically planned and implemented national effort. Strategic concepts like the National Security Concept and the State Defense Concept, both approved by the parliament, articulate Latvia’s high-level strategic assessments, goals, and priorities in response to the evolving security environment, providing the overarching vision and direction for the development of the CND.

This approach also aligns with the direction set by NATO at its 2016 Warsaw Summit, where the Alliance adopted seven baseline requirements for national resilience. For the first time, NATO established clear conditions that member states’ civilian institutions must meet to support Article 4 and 5 military operations. These requirements include: continuity of government and critical services; resilient energy, food, and water supplies; the ability to manage uncontrolled population movements; resilient civil communication and transportation systems; and the capacity to handle mass casualties. In this regard, Latvia’s CND system goes beyond these NATO requirements by also incorporating societal resilience and the involvement of the private sector in defense operations and other aspects.

Alongside NATO’s framework, relevant EU-level initiatives provide significant complementary support for resilience. These include the EU’s crisis-management framework, particularly its Civil Protection Mechanism, and the Military Mobility initiative, which supports development of civilian infrastructure to facilitate the rapid movement of military forces across Europe. These efforts directly reinforce both NATO and national resilience objectives, providing practical tools and funding to enhance collective defense.

Beyond multilateral alliances, Latvia cultivates strong bilateral partnerships and engages actively in regional cooperation formats to enhance its security and resilience. The 2020 State Defense Concept emphasizes the strong military cooperation between Latvia and the United States, highlighting the long-standing and highly valued partnership between the Latvian National Armed Forces and the Michigan National Guard. The United States is widely regarded as a major strategic partner for Latvia’s security and independence.

The three Baltic states also work closely together to develop their collective security and defense capabilities. This cooperation includes joint efforts to strengthen their external borders, deepen collaboration in civil protection and crisis management, combat disinformation through shared intelligence and strategies, and enhance overall societal resilience. Joint military exercises are also a regular feature of this trilateral cooperation.

Nordic-Baltic cooperation provides another layer of security collaboration. Latvia’s comprehensive defense approach shares many similarities with the strategies adopted by Nordic countries, facilitating mutual learning and coordinated efforts. The Nordic and Baltic countries have also demonstrated solidarity through joint statements and coordinated actions, for example, in reaffirming their support for Ukraine.

Latvia’s multifaceted international engagement—spanning NATO, the EU, key bilateral relationships such as with the United States, and intensive regional cooperation—is not merely about receiving security assistance or aligning with external frameworks. It increasingly reflects a strategy of proactive contribution. As a frontline state that has rapidly developed its resilience concepts and capabilities in response to direct and evolving threats, Latvia is well-positioned to share valuable expertise and lessons learned.

Key pillars of Latvian resilience

Since the adoption of CND, Latvia has pursued a comprehensive approach to defense based on an understanding that every element of the government and population plays a part in creating a networked civil and military defense system—and recent lessons from Ukraine’s resistance to Russian aggression have further reinforced this understanding. This approach grew out of necessity: Latvia, a small country with limited strategic depth, neighbors Russia, a large, aggressive military power that has attacked countries in its so-called near abroad. Latvia’s approach, like those of its fellow Nordic-Baltic countries, is built on a straightforward idea that the country’s civil and military defense systems can achieve a greater deterrence and defense impact if they collaborate and if each part is prepared. Meanwhile, Latvia’s pursuit of national resilience is not confined to a single strategy but is realized through a multifaceted approach that addresses various dimensions of security. 

While the CND concept encompasses eight dimensions, ranging from military development to psychological resilience, our report examines it through four perspectives: military, civil, societal, and governmental resilience. This approach allows for a cohesive, strategic evaluation of the dimensions of readiness without sacrificing the scope of the original concept.

Military resilience

Latvia’s military resilience is a central aspect of its national defense, resting on the fundamental pillars of domestic responsibility for developing its own capabilities and a robust collective defense provided by its allies.

Lessons learned from Russia’s aggression in Ukraine since 2014 have driven initiatives to ensure that Latvian institutions and society can respond effectively to any unconventional or hybrid threat scenarios. Changes to the National Security Law have empowered the National Armed Forces (NAF), from the lowest level up, with the authority to respond to any military threat, conventional or unconventional, even without immediate orders from the political leadership. The law explicitly states that armed resistance may not be prohibited in times of war or occupation and affirms that every citizen has the right to take up arms to resist an aggressor. This legal framework solidifies the principle of total defense, ensuring that the entire nation is prepared and authorized to contribute to the defense of the country.

To maintain this posture, Latvia has steadily increased its defense budget. By 2018, Latvia had met the NATO defense spending goal of 2 percent of gross domestic product (GDP), which has significantly contributed to the development of military capabilities, including within the National Guard. Military resolve is evident in the budget’s rapid growth, which is projected to reach approximately 3.65 percent of GDP in 2025, with announcements indicating a further increase to 5 percent by 2026. This funding is crucial for keeping military modernization on track through the strategic procurement of advanced weapon systems. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Latvia has significantly increased investment in conventional war-fighting capabilities to enhance its deterrence posture. The commitment to acquiring advanced systems—such as High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS) launchers, IRIS-T air defense systems, and coastal defense missiles—sends a vital message that the country is serious about bolstering its defense. National resilience also necessitates forging a cohesive fighting force from diverse sources of manpower. Latvia is proactively addressing manpower challenges, most notably through the reintroduction of mandatory conscription in the form of the State Defense Service (SDS). Introduced in 2023, the SDS aims to increase recruitment and build a larger, well-trained reserve force. This policy of eleven-month mandatory service has shown early signs of success. Latvia plans to enlist four thousand new recruits annually by 2028 and, notably, 40 percent of the 2024 intake opted for professional careers after their mandatory service. Current military plans envision 31,000 troops by 2029, complemented by an equally large reserve contingent thereafter. However, this rapid expansion presents significant challenges. The primary obstacles include a lack of sufficient modern training infrastructure to accommodate the larger number of recruits, a shortage of qualified instructors to lead the training, and the immense organizational task of building a functional reserve system that can effectively manage and retrain thousands of new reservists annually after their active service ends. Successfully overcoming these hurdles is critical to ensuring the SDS translates into a genuine increase in combat-ready forces.

Comprehensive defense exercise “Nameis 2024,” National Armed Forces of Latvia, https://www.flickr.com/photos/latvijas_armija/54023090223/in/album-72177720320603776.

Advanced capabilities and increased manpower are only effective if they are maintained at a high state of readiness. This is achieved through a rigorous schedule of military exercises designed to test plans and ensure interoperability. The flagship event is the annual Comprehensive Defense Exercise “Namejs,” which tests the armed forces in joint operations at every level.

These exercises are crucial for more than just military units, serving as the primary mechanism for implementing the whole-of-society defense concept in practice. During Namejs, the NAF systematically drills its cooperation with the civilian sector. This includes collaborating with municipalities and state-owned companies to support military mobility and countermobility efforts, and working with private-sector entrepreneurs on resource mobilization. Similarly, through this whole-of-society approach, Latvia has demonstrated both ingenuity and cooperation. It is exemplified by efforts to formalize the roles of civilian groups in national defense, such as the involvement of hunters in the national defense system—a patriotic and armed segment of society that can be integrated with the National Guard and tasked with support assignments. As comprehensive defense evolves into a societal reality, it demonstrates credible national will, complicates adversary planning, and builds the societal backbone needed to withstand pressure and deter aggression, including hybrid attacks from Russia.

Civil resilience

Civil resilience in Latvia focuses on the comprehensive preparedness of its civilian structures and population, encompassing robust civil-defense planning across all government levels, from national ministries to local municipalities. This emphasis recognizes the critical role of municipalities in fostering a society-wide culture of preparedness and resilience.

Russia’s aggression against Ukraine beginning in 2014 and 2022 deeply reverberated across Latvian society, creating significant momentum for action. The latter created public demand that pushed local governments beyond mere declaratory contingency plans to proactively explain preparedness strategies to their constituents. Latvia has adopted the necessary legislative basis that mandates that Latvian municipalities ensure the continuity of essential services during crises or war, therefore actively participating in developing a society-wide culture of preparedness and resilience.

Pilskalns Exercises

The Pilskalns exercises stress-test the developed defense and crisis management plans, enhance knowledge, and inform participants about potential challenges during a military crisis at the municipal level. These exercises provide the opportunity to engage national and local institutions and the National Armed Forces to test their ability to communicate, mobilize resources, and manage evacuation in the event of a crisis.

This is primarily achieved through civil-defense plans, which are now mandatory for all municipalities. Developed in close cooperation with the National Armed Forces, these plans must be exercised at least annually. A prime example of this is the Pilskalns series of tactical exercises. While all municipalities are now mandated to develop such plans, some have been more proactive. For instance, Jelgava, Latvia’s fourth-largest city, established a municipal operation information center in 2011, preceding many other local governments. In peacetime, this center functions as a municipal hotline for damaged infrastructure, but in a crisis, it transforms into the municipal early warning system.

Another key aspect of civil resilience involves ensuring the continuity of essential services and protecting critical infrastructure. Latvia has strategically shifted its crisis-management thinking from solely focusing on infrastructure protection to prioritizing the uninterrupted delivery of essential services and functions. While this shift presents additional planning challenges, it stems from the understanding that critical infrastructure cannot operate in isolation from broader national defense factors; it is rendered ineffective without skilled personnel, operational processes, and supporting services vital for its functioning. Businesses are consequently required to develop robust continuity plans.

Latvian Mobile Telephone

Latvian Mobile Telephone (LMT) is one of the first companies in Latvia to establish its own National Guard subdivision, underscoring its role as a critical infrastructure provider. LMT is responsible for maintaining national connectivity, even in times of war, and actively develops innovative solutions for military use. Composed of the company’s own employees, the subdivision’s primary mission is to strengthen the security and defense of LMT’s critical infrastructure and essential services, defending against attacks aimed at destabilizing the country by targeting its critical infrastructure.

The Ministry of Defense (MoD) and the NAF retain a central role in comprehensive defense planning. This reflects both the fundamental need to integrate military and civilian planning factors closely within comprehensive defense systems and the traditionally high level of societal trust in the National Armed Forces. Consequently, even private industry’s preparedness plans are drafted in close cooperation with both the relevant sectoral ministry and the MoD. This collaborative approach ensures that the government is aware of civilian-sector resources, can provide expertise and experience, and can monitor how these plans integrate into the broader national resilience system and warfighting plans. Furthermore, industrial actors participate in joint exercises with their specific sectoral ministry and the MoD at least once every four years. An innovative development is the creation of specific National Guard units staffed by personnel from critical infrastructure entities, whose primary role is to defend critical infrastructure objects in case of military contingencies.

Latvian electricity company Sadales tīkls undergoing National Guard Training. Ministry of Defense of Latvia, https://www.sargs.lv/lv/latvija/2022-10-27/sadales-tikls-veido-zemessardzes-apaksvienibu-ar-merki-aizsargat-uznemuma.

The ability to ensure the flow of money for goods and services constitutes another critical service. Societal upheavals, crises, and wars often disrupt peacetime payment systems, as demonstrated by Ukraine’s experience. To address this, the Bank of Latvia (which is analogous to the US Federal Reserve) is developing crisis payment solutions, both cash and noncash, for a society with a high adoption rate for noncash transactions. For example, the Bank of Latvia is collaborating with major commercial banks to develop approved offline solutions, ensuring individuals can use their bank cards for basic necessities even if bank communications are down. Similarly, during a crisis or war, banks are required to maintain a predefined network of ATMs, with at least one ATM per municipal center, and have developed a map of critical ATMs that would operate in case of crisis.

Latvia also has proactively sought to improve the integrity of its communications systems. This involves ensuring that critical data—including sensitive healthcare, defense, security, and economic data—remains within Latvian territory and that critical information technology systems continue to function without interruption even if the connection to the global internet is disrupted. To achieve this, the government now mandates that national and municipal institutions, companies, and owners/managers of critical IT infrastructure prioritize using a single national internet exchange point, GLV-IX, a statewide and state-operated local internet ecosystem, for their data flows if the outer perimeter of electronic communications is compromised.

Finally, Latvia has actively addressed two common challenges in building preparedness: improving the communication of preparedness requirements and funding resilience efforts. Many national governments struggle with effectively communicating military crisis and war preparedness expectations to municipalities and private industries. While both disseminating information and issuing legislation are important, these efforts must be augmented by activities that encourage thoughtful planning, accurate understanding of requirements, and knowledge development. Indeed, Latvian municipalities have sometimes voiced concerns about insufficient resources for civil preparedness, arguing it should be a national responsibility. Similarly, even large, well-funded hospitals struggle to meet the three-month supply requirement for medicine and supplies, while smaller hospitals lack adequate funding altogether.

Latvia has sought to address these questions through legislative changes, clarifying responsibilities and tasks, and mandating regular exercises. Over time, continuous cooperation and the mandatory requirement of yearly exercises are expected to foster a better understanding of the overall defense system, individual roles within it, and mutual expectations among all parties involved. Regular exercise schedules significantly benefit Latvia’s preparedness across sectors by stress testing developed plans, building knowledge, and informing participants about potential organizational challenges during a military crisis or war. For example, the yearly state-wide comprehensive defense exercises Namejs involve municipalities, allied forces, and local companies playing out different scenarios alongside the National Armed Forces. On a local level, Pilskalns exercises, in use since 2020, test municipalities’ planning and practical response capabilities under wartime scenarios, involving national and local institutions, the NAF, and local companies. These exercises are crucial for stress testing plans, identifying gaps, and building practical experience among all involved parties. Ultimately, however, private enterprises are expected to fund their own preparedness planning and implementation activities.

Societal resilience

Societal resilience in Latvia is built on the principle that national security is a shared responsibility that extends to every citizen, empowering individuals with the practical knowledge and tools needed to withstand a crisis. The government has fostered a “culture of readiness” through regular information campaigns and hands-on materials that include tips to spot false information.

The most visible example of this is Latvia’s 72-hour preparedness guide,” a practical tool aimed at bolstering individual and, by extension, societal resilience. This campaign advises citizens on how to be self-sufficient for the first seventy-two hours of a crisis, a critical period before state emergency services may be able to provide widespread assistance. The booklet provides practical guidance on reliable information sources, identifying and countering disinformation, essential supplies to stock like water and food, preparing an emergency kit, and developing a family crisis action plan. This proactive approach is rooted in both general emergency-management principles and Latvia’s specific geopolitical and historical context. It not only promotes self-sufficiency that reduces the immediate burden on state resources, but also empowers citizens with concrete actions they can take, which reduces feelings of helplessness and fosters a sense of control and readiness. Public preparedness campaigns like this booklet encourage citizens to volunteer and self-organize, which are foundational elements for any form of collective resistance. The State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD) plays a vital role in this public preparedness effort by actively informing the population on safety measures. To significantly enhance these capabilities, Latvia fully implemented a national cell broadcast system in early 2025. This modern alert system allows the VUGD to instantly send critical warnings directly to all mobile phones within a specific geographic area during an emergency, functioning without requiring users to install an application. This technology provides an immediate and widespread communication layer, complementing existing tools like sirens and the “112 Latvija” mobile application, which is also promoted by the VUGD as a key resource for emergency information.

Youth Guard

The Latvian Youth Guard (Jaunsardze) is Latvia’s largest state-sponsored youth movement, operating under the Ministry of Defence to provide education in national defense. Its primary mission is to foster patriotism, civic consciousness, leadership skills, and physical fitness among young people aged ten to twenty-one. By providing voluntary training in military basics, first aid, and survival skills, the Jaunsardze strengthens the nation’s will to defend itself, serving as a vital component of Latvia’s comprehensive state defense system and a primary pathway for future service.

This culture of readiness is reinforced through long-term educational investments designed to foster an informed, critical, and defense-aware society. The national defense education program in schools aims to instill patriotism, civic responsibility, and basic preparedness skills, fostering an understanding among young people of their role in national defense. Media literacy training is a central component, being built into both school curricula and community programs.

These practical and educational efforts are underpinned by a broader national defense strategy that formally acknowledges psychological defense and nonviolent civil resistance as crucial components of CND. A noteworthy aspect of Latvia’s posture is the formal integration of nonviolent civil

resistance, where the 2020 State Defense Concept explicitly includes “nonviolent civil resistance against occupation forces” as a component of the societal dimension of “total defense.” This signifies a preparedness to resist aggression through a wide spectrum of means, not limited to armed conflict. This is, in large part, a direct response to Russia’s information manipulation and its treatment of the information space as a critical front. Securing an open media space and bolstering psychological resilience against manipulation is now a paramount security goal, involving the cultivation of critical thinking skills to withstand attempts to sow discord.  

To defend this front, Latvia employs a multilayered approach. The state has bolstered strategic communication resources, with a dedicated unit under the State Chancellery that coordinates messaging and works to disarm foreign malign information activities. Quality journalism is supported by funding and policy, and authorities have banned most of the Russian propaganda channels. In 2021, Latvia became the first Baltic state to prosecute individuals for willfully spreading dangerous falsehoods as per the criminal law, though there have been few convictions due to legal ambiguity in Article 231 around the definition of “fake news.” This state-led approach is complemented by a vibrant ecosystem of nongovernmental organizations, academics, and volunteers—such as the Baltic elves”—who actively debunk falsehoods. Investigative journalists, fact-checkers, and initiatives like the Baltic Centre for Media Excellence also work to expose disinformation and promote high standards in journalism.

At the community level, these principles are put into practice through societal and municipality-led initiatives. Continuing work started in the previous year, the Riga municipality has organized a cycle of seven practical civil-defense seminars across various city neighborhoods. During the workshops, residents learn about specific risks in their area, such as nearby high-risk objects and evacuation routes, as identified by the Riga city municipality. They also receive practical training on how to: adapt a basement into a safe shelter; properly assemble a seventy-two-hour emergency bag; and build mental resilience with psychological self-help techniques.

To address the wider Russian threat to Western society, Latvia is sharing what it is learning with its allies and partners. It hosts NATO’s Strategic Communications Center of Excellence, and it works with allies and partners to combat malign influence. Examples of this kind of cooperation are IREX (International Research and Exchanges Board), which conducts media training in the Baltic area, and the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab, which investigates disinformation and debunks narratives, educates media consumers, and has had staff based in Latvia since 2017.

Governmental resilience

Governmental resilience is the central pillar that ensures the state can continue to lead and function during a crisis, providing the necessary command, control, and coordination within the CND system. This is achieved through a robust legal framework, a clear institutional hierarchy, contingency and crisis-response planning, and a commitment to testing these plans through regular exercises to guarantee the continuity of government.

The crisis-management system of Latvia is multilayered. The State Civil Protection Plan clearly outlines the responsibilities and leading roles of all state institutions in case of state-level contingencies. The system is designed to be flexible; for example, the Ministry of Health has the leading role and responsibility for management of pandemics, as was the case with COVID-19, with all institutions (including the armed forces) supporting these efforts. Meanwhile, in the case of a military threat or war, civilian institutions have the role of supporting the armed forces and ensuring continuity of governance and essential services. At the practical level, the system envisions the establishment of the Civil Protection Operational Management Centre (abbreviated in Latvian as CAOVC), that is formed in case of state-level contingencies, including war. It would be led by the Ministry of the Interior and composed of delegated experts from across the government, tasking it with coordinating interinstitutional response, compiling a comprehensive situational picture, and providing support to the NAF.

This role is to be complemented by municipal-level responsibility through the establishment of municipal civil-protection commissions that are obliged to plan and execute response activities on a regional level, as well as coordinate with state-level efforts.

The “Kristaps” series involves the Cabinet of Ministers in simulating strategic decision-making, as well as NATO Crisis Management Exercises (CMX), while the operational comprehensive defense exercise Namejs includes tests of civil-military cooperation, the practical implementation of civil defense plans, and the coordination functions of the planned CAOVC.

Latvia’s current push to improve its crisis-management system and governmental resilience is a direct response to lessons learned from a series of major crises. The COVID-19 pandemic served as a stark, real-world test of cross-sectoral crisis management, exposing significant shortcomings in interministerial coordination, public communication, and the ability to manage state material reserves effectively. The 2021 hybrid attack and instrumentalization of migration organized by Belarus on the EU’s eastern border tested the state’s ability to coordinate a response between interior, defense, and foreign policy bodies under “gray zone” threat conditions that are, as another Atlantic Council report put it, diffuse and hard to attribute. Most significantly, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine since 2022 has provided an invaluable, albeit grim, case study in the requirements of modern national defense. It underscored the absolute necessity of a resilient government able to overcome the massive scale of civil-defense challenges and pervasive hybrid threats. These events collectively created a clear need for reevaluation and reform of the crisis-management system in Latvia, highlighting systemic challenges in achieving effective horizontal coordination across ministries.

To resolve these issues, Latvia is establishing a new centralized National Crisis Management Center (CMC). The concept for the CMC, approved by the government in early 2025, represents the keystone of the nation’s reformed resilience architecture. Its creation is a direct answer to the lessons learned from past crises, designed to provide the professional, permanent, and agile coordination that was previously lacking. Operating under the direct authority of the prime minister, the CMC is designed to provide a single, empowered hub for analysis, planning, and, crucially, to improve coordination in crisis management between key state institutions, especially in complex threat scenarios, and provide support to decision-makers and political leadership.

The core functions of the CMC will include: continuous monitoring of the situation and information gathering; identifying potential risks and threats; conducting analysis of information and data to assess these risks and threats; strategic planning and coordination of operational planning; coordinating the planning, logistics, and recovery of state-level civilian crisis-management resources, including state material reserves; and coordinating crisis-communication efforts. Meanwhile, in the specific context of a military crisis, the CMC will be responsible for coordinating the civilian sector’s response and ensuring seamless cooperation with the military sector.

In essence, this new structure, continuously validated through planning and exercises, aims to ensure the leadership and effective whole-of-government coordination deemed essential for navigating these complex security challenges.

Challenges and future imperatives for resilience

Latvia has been systematically working to integrate all societal elements into its national defense posture, particularly since 2014. This ongoing effort, while showing significant progress, presents a range of challenges and necessitates clear future developments to ensure sustained and enhanced security in a complex geopolitical landscape.

Latvia’s commendable strides in building a comprehensive national resilience model are met with several persistent and evolving challenges; therefore, for the continued evolution and strengthening of Latvian resilience it is crucial to address them in a timely manner:

  1. Building and maintaining robust military defense capabilities. Maintaining momentum in military modernization programs and ensuring the capacity to sustain combat operations beyond an initial phase are crucial for credible deterrence and defense. This includes addressing the timeline for military buildup in relation to potential Russian force reconstitution. While Latvia’s defense spending is projected to reach 3.45 percent of GDP in 2025, with ambitions for 5 percent by 2026, efficient allocation across diverse needs—from military modernization to civil protection and societal programs—remains a complex undertaking. This financial strain also impacts critical infrastructure operators and municipalities tasked with new preparedness responsibilities. Therefore, continued investment in critical military capabilities, including air defense, coastal defense systems (like Naval Strike Missile systems), and long-range precision fires (HIMARS) should be pursued.
  2. Expanding the National Armed Forces. Planned expansions of the NAF and the full implementation of the State Defense Service face manpower constraints, requiring substantial investment in training infrastructure, qualified instructors, and innovative recruitment policies. The current reserve system also requires significant overhaul. Latvia should continue the expansion of the NAF, overhaul the reserve system to effectively integrate SDS graduates, and implement both dedicated reservist training and early military education. Ensuring adequate infrastructure, qualified instructors, and innovative policies for recruitment and training is crucial.
  3. Developing targeted strategies for critical areas. The development of industry-specific expertise for business and service continuity, particularly for critical infrastructure, can be a bottleneck. Cultivation of a deeper culture of shared responsibility with the private sector through targeted incentives, joint training programs, and secure information-sharing platforms should be continued. Additionally, mechanisms for improving intermunicipal coordination and resource sharing can alleviate the burden or strain associated with this issue. Latvia should also move beyond awareness campaigns to foster active participation, skill building, and a sense of ownership among the citizenry. Relatively low levels of public trust in certain state institutions can potentially hinder the full engagement of society in defense and resilience efforts. Actively integrating civilian agencies, businesses, and citizens into national resilience and defense planning through practical taskings and drills could help resolve this challenge. A primary challenge is also extending the intensity of preparedness from military threat scenarios to encompass nonmilitary crises across all civilian institutions. Intermunicipal coordination, particularly in resource sharing, needs strengthening. Consistent funding for new municipal responsibilities in civil defense is also a point of discussion, which the municipalities have on previous occasions cited as one of the reasons for their inability to build up civil defense capacities.
  4. Interagency coordination and centralized leadership. Ensuring seamless collaboration and clear, consistent communication of preparedness requirements across all sectors and among numerous actors remains a continuous task. Latvia faces persistent interagency coordination complexities. While the spirit of comprehensive national defense promotes collaboration, the practicalities of aligning different ministries, agencies, and even different levels of government can be challenging. Each entity has its own priorities, budgets, and institutional cultures. The MoD, while a key actor, cannot guarantee or ensure the engagement and resource commitments of other ministries. Effective comprehensive national defense requires a process led by a centralized authority with the power to direct and synchronize efforts across government—ideally the prime minister’s office or a dedicated high-level body. This is especially true for distributing tasks effectively among ministries and bodies of equivalent hierarchical power. Therefore, the establishment of the new Crisis Management Center is a promising development that could further leadership in the implementation of comprehensive national defense and serve as a central actor for confronting crisis situations. However, its mandate, authority, and resourcing will be critical. It must be empowered to not just coordinate but also to direct and enforce; it also must avoid becoming yet another silo and instead act as a true hub for national crisis response and comprehensive national defense implementation. The assurance that the CMC is rapidly and effectively staffed, resourced, and empowered to coordinate across all government levels, municipalities, and the private sector is paramount. The CMC should also be tasked with leading institutionalized, regular, complex cross-sectoral crisis-management exercises. Engaging all nongovernmental organizations and local media more consistently in preparedness exercises and overcoming local political inertia are both ongoing efforts. Effective Comprehensive National Defense coordination across ministries, especially in horizontal tasking, presents difficulties. 
  5. Countering evolving threats in the information landscape. Democratic countries like Latvia must counter influence within political, ethical, moral, and legal constraints, while adversaries often operate without such limits, giving them an advantage in proactive narrative projection. Latvia must continuously adapt its resilience strategies to counter new and evolving hybrid threats, sophisticated disinformation techniques, and novel cyberattack methods. Sustaining and enhancing programs to equip the population to withstand long-term information influence operations and maintain morale during crises is crucial. Further exploration and integration of nonviolent resistance concepts into national defense training and public guidance could promote the adaptability of resilience in this area. Latvia’s main approach to countering malign activities in the information space has been blocking narratives rather than proactively projecting its own strategic messages. A shift in policy is also needed from primarily blocking disinformation to more proactive narrative projection by developing and disseminating national strategic narratives that reinforce democratic values and societal cohesion. Expanding media literacy and critical thinking education is still an option; so, too, is allocating more support to independent and local media. Collaboration with allies on resilience benchmarking particularly for critical services, countering hybrid threats, and protecting critical infrastructure could bring about collective benefits in resilience building. 
  6. Reviewing the conceptual framework of national defense. Latvia has made impressive progress in defining and implementing the CND concept. However, we believe that the evolution of its conceptual framework must continue to better adhere to the complexities of real-life challenges and diverse crisis situations. As time passes, a review of the initially laid out core principles is needed. A primary concern is preventing comprehensive national defense from becoming a catch-all concept. While its all-encompassing nature is a strength there is risk that its boundaries are too wide and therefore its core purpose can become diluted, leading to a diffusion of effort and resources. For instance, if every societal issue is framed as a comprehensive national defense matter, prioritization becomes difficult and the focus on core security and defense preparedness could be lost. Future work should aim to refine the operational scope of the comprehensive national defense, ensuring it remains a focused and effective framework while clearly delineating its relationship with broader societal well-being initiatives. We need to clearly define what falls within comprehensive national defense and what is supportive but distinct to maintain its strategic integrity. 
  7. Deepening societal engagement and cohesion. Latvia should continue its efforts to make its comprehensive defense concept a nationwide reality not just a government policy on paper. As comprehensive defense evolves into a social reality, it demonstrates credible national will, complicates adversary planning, and builds the societal backbone needed to withstand pressure and deter aggression, including hybrid attacks from Russia. Although we have seen great examples of civil engagement from businesses in actively pursuing their role in the defense system, challenges remain with broad-based individual and community-level engagement. Latvia, for various historical and societal reasons, doesn’t always exhibit the strong deeply embedded community culture seen in some other nations. This can make reaching individuals and fostering grassroots resilience initiatives more challenging. Simply put, many individuals may not yet fully internalize their role or feel connected to a local preparedness network. Achieving genuine societal cohesion and developing the resilience of individuals within their respective communities must become a more pronounced strategic goal. This requires more than just information campaigns. It means investing in local leadership development, supporting community-based organizations, designing exercises that actively involve ordinary citizens in practical ways, and perhaps leveraging existing structures like schools, cultural centers, or even hobby groups to build networks of mutual support and preparedness. The aim should be to empower individuals and communities to self-mobilize for constructive action in crisis rather than relying solely on top-down directives.
  8. Continued advocacy for enhanced support from NATO, the EU, the United States, and regional allies for Latvia’s capability development, military modernization, joint exercises, and resilience projects is crucial, as is maximizing the prepositioning of allied military equipment and stocks. The current strategic window, while Russian forces are degraded by the war in Ukraine, should be used to rapidly build up defense capacity and societal resilience, secure continued US commitment, generate a greater NATO forward presence, deepen regional integration, and refine reinforcement mechanisms. Other regional resilience priorities include transitioning the Baltic defense line from a concept to a concrete reality with fortified positions, leveraging natural terrain, and ensuring forces train to fight effectively from these prepared positions.

Editors: Armands Astukevičs, Elīna Vrobļevska.

Contributors: Mārcis Balodis, Hans Binnendijk, Marta Kepe, Beniamino Irdi.

Annex 1: Management structure

A. Strategy and policy level

President of Latvia and National Security Council (NSC): The president, as NAF supreme commander, chairs the NSC. The NSC, comprising top state officials and security heads, advises and coordinates on national security and defense, and offers recommendations to the Saeima (see below) and Cabinet.

Saeima (Parliament): Enacts national security, defense, and civil-protection laws; approves key strategic concepts (National Security Concept, State Defense Concept); and provides parliamentary oversight.

Key committees:

  • National Security Committee: Prepares national security policy documents for Saeima approval.
    • Defense, Internal Affairs and Corruption Prevention Committee: Oversees relevant ministries, legislation, and budgets.
    • Comprehensive National Defense Subcommittee: Monitors government implementation of Comprehensive National Defense (CND) elements within the National Security and State Defense Concepts.
    • Other committees: May address specific CND implementation aspects as needed.

Cabinet of Ministers (CoM): The highest executive body, implementing national CND policy, approving strategic plans and regulations, allocating resources, and directing ministries.

Key bodies:

  • Crisis Management Centre (CMC): Concept approval in early 2025; planned to be fully operational when legislation has been passed. Envisioned as the central, national crisis-management coordinator (monitoring, analysis, strategic planning. Its potential role in leading overall CND coordination is under active discussion.
    • Ministerial-Level Working Group for CND: Chaired by prime minister or lead minister. Ensures political alignment and high-level interministerial CND strategy coordination.

B. Planning and coordination level

State Secretary-Level Working Group for Comprehensive Defense (CND): Chaired by MoD state secretary. Coordinates CND plan development, harmonization, and monitoring across ministries at the senior-civil-servant level, translating Cabinet decisions into actionable plans.

Ministry of Defense (MoD): Lead institution for the State Defense Concept/Plan and CND concept development; responsible for military defense, NAF development, and civil-military cooperation planning.

Ministry of Interior (MoI): Lead institution for public order, internal security, and the State Civil Protection Plan; oversees the State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD), State Police, and Border Guard; coordinates the Civil Defense Operational Management Centre.

Line ministries (e.g., health, transport, economy): Develop and implement sector-specific resilience plans and CND measures, ensuring continuity of essential services and participating in relevant working groups and exercises.

Bank of Latvia: Ensures financial-sector resilience, including payment systems and cash circulation, in cooperation with commercial banks.

C. Implementation and operations (state level):  

National Armed Forces Headquarters (NAF HQ): The NAF’s highest military headquarters and main operational command and control entity under the chief of defense; manages NAF operations, plans/executes joint operations (peacetime, crisis, war), and coordinates with civil authorities such as the Operational Control Centre of Civil Protection.

Operational Control Centre of Civil Protection: A state-level coordination body for major crises or military threats; integrates multiagency expert groups and works closely with NAF HQ to coordinate civil-military efforts.

State Fire and Rescue Service (VUGD): Primary state agency for firefighting, rescue operations, and practical civil-protection measures; implements elements of the State Civil Protection Plan.

Other key state agencies and services (e.g., Emergency Medical Service, State Police, Border Guard): Implement crisis response and resilience measures according to their mandates and plans, participating in exercises and interagency coordination.

Municipal and private-sector actors:

Civil Defense Commissions (thirty-seven at municipal level): Develop and implement local civil defense plans; coordinate local resources and crisis response (including public notification, evacuation, basic services, shelters); cooperate with regional NAF units and state services.

Private sector/critical infrastructure operators: Develop and implement business continuity plans for essential service resilience; cooperate with state and municipal authorities; may be involved in resource mobilization.  


Annex 2: Framework of concepts, plans, laws, and regulations

Project editors

Armands Astukevičs is a researcher at the Center for East European Policy Studies in Riga, Latvia. Currently, he is working on his doctoral dissertation on authoritarian regime resilience. He has a master’s degree in political science from University of Latvia. Astukevičs’ previous work experience includes policy analysis and planning in the Latvian Ministry of Defense, where he focused on crisis management and comprehensive national defense issues. His current research interests relate to topics on the defense and security policy of the Baltic states, national resilience and resistance to hybrid threats, and analysis of Russia’s foreign policy processes.

Elīna Vrobļevska is a researcher and deputy director at the Center for East European Policy Studies in Riga, Latvia. She has a doctoral degree in international relations from Rīga Stradiņš University, with her thesis on “Russia’s foreign policy identity ideas and their manifestation in foreign policy (2012–2022).” Vroblevska serves as a lecturer and researcher at the Faculty of Social Sciences, Rīga Stradiņš University. Her research interests include the analysis of Russia’s foreign policy narratives and their impact on political processes, the study of Russia’s foreign policy and the security challenges it poses, as well as the examination of Russia’s activities in the information space.

Contributing authors

Mārcis Balodis is a researcher and a member of the board of the Center for East European Policy Studies. His primary research focuses on Russia’s foreing and security policy as well as Russia’s use of hybrid warfare.

Hans Binnendijk is a distinguished fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative, part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

Marta Kepe is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. She is also a senior defense analyst at RAND, a nonprofit, nonpartisan research organization.

Beniamino Irdi is a nonresident senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative within the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. He is also the head of strategic and international affairs at Deloitte Legal Italy and founder and CEO of HighGround, a political risk consulting firm.

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Prioritizing Canada’s investment in Arctic infrastructure https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/prioritizing-canadas-investment-in-arctic-infrastructure/ Tue, 23 Dec 2025 20:16:33 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=896228 Canada’s new budget promises a “generational investment” in infrastructure, with a significant amount earmarked for Arctic dual-use infrastructure—improving Canada’s military presence in the north, accessing untapped critical mineral reserves, and offering new economic opportunities. But this is only the beginning of the region’s infrastructure needs.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Canada’s new budget promises a “generational investment” in infrastructure, with significant funding earmarked for Arctic dual-use infrastructure.
  • These funds advance multiple goals set by the new government: improving its military presence in the north, accessing untapped critical mineral reserves, and offering new economic opportunities to Arctic communities.
  • Translating this funding into tangible projects and incorporating Canada’s climate goals into their development will be critical.

The Canadian government is making a “generational investment” in its infrastructure—including pipelines, ports, and roadways. Prime Minister Mark Carney’s first federal budget, unveiled in early November 2025, establishes Canada’s long-term prosperity as a driver for this investment and enables the new government to approach linked global challenges from a place of strength. Canada’s budget process differs from the US budget process, producing a more concrete plan with less room for deviation once the budget is set. The Canadian government budget outlines actual revenue and the government’s expenditure plans. Indeed, infrastructure investments combine two priorities in the current threat landscape: economic ambition and military necessity. To achieve the stated goals of doubling Canadian exports to non-US markets over the next decade and meeting the new defense spending pledge to which NATO allies committed at the Hague summit, Canada’s new budget begins a major effort to have infrastructure catch up to ambition.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in Canada’s Arctic, where infrastructure investment has sorely lagged. Canada’s vast and remote north is a challenging environment for building infrastructure. It is costly to build and to maintain, with prohibitively high initial costs and the “tyranny of distance” often deterring investment. Amid growing international interest in the Arctic, including pressure from the United States, Canada’s north can no longer be ignored, especially as Carney’s new nation-building agenda pushes for investment in infrastructure. Investing in Canada’s northern infrastructure addresses multiple necessities: It bolsters Canada’s military footprint in the Arctic; it contributes to NATO commitments on defense spending, particularly toward the goal of 1.5 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) spent on infrastructure; it strengthens the economic opportunities available to communities in the region; and it improves access to critical minerals.  

The Canadian Arctic is facing a profound period of transformation. It is warming nearly four times faster than the rest of the globe, dramatically impacting attempts to build infrastructure in the region. Permafrost thaw, less sea ice, and rising sea levels are all challenges facing Canada’s north. Ultimately, this reality needs to be central to the development of infrastructure projects in the region. Canada seeks to become a “clean energy superpower” by supporting the development of low-emission energy projects such as nuclear reactors and low-carbon liquefied natural gas. The government is pushing for the development of carbon capture and storage technologies, as well as enhanced methane regulations. It is also affirming its commitment to the industrial carbon tax. The new federal budget’s approval by parliament was only possible with support from the Green Party. The environment must remain central to Carney’s plans for economic and infrastructure expansion in order to maintain support for his minority government.

One highlight of the new budget is the Arctic Infrastructure Fund. The government is proposing C$1 billion over four years for Transport Canada to invest in “major transportation projects in the north,” including “airports, seaports, all-season roads, and highways.” These infrastructure investments have both civilian and military uses. The Mackenzie Valley Highway is a prime example of the challenges facing major infrastructure projects in the region. The all-weather highway extension is designed to connect remote communities in the Northwest Territories. While this project’s origins date back to the 1960s, it is still several years from breaking ground. The Mackenzie Valley Highway alone is projected to cost C$1.65 billion, with the majority of the cost covered by the federal government. In this context, C$1 billion over four years—while an admirable start—is simply not enough to make a significant difference. To address infrastructure needs in Canada’s north, and to transform its portion of the Arctic so it is no longer the “soft underbelly” of the North American Arctic, this funding must be only the beginning of the Canadian government’s investments. As Carney’s large-scale projects continue to unfold, the Canadian Arctic will require more resources to meet civil and military infrastructure needs and effectively project power into the north.

In late 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative hosted a workshop with government officials, academic experts, and participants from the public and private sectors of Canada, the United States, and Europe. The insights gathered from these conversations helped inform this issue brief, which assesses challenges, recommendations, and opportunities for Canada’s infrastructure in the Arctic.

Recommendations for the Department of National Defence and Canadian Armed Forces

Incorporate sustainability and climate security in Arctic infrastructure planning

Many of the Canadian government’s plans for infrastructure in the Arctic are dual use in nature, with the goal of increasing its military footprint in the region. Increased military or infrastructure presence in Canada’s north will invariably have environmental ramifications. Air- and sea-based military activities can generate excessive noise levels and air pollution, while military exercises can result in soil compaction and the destruction of vegetation. As Canada grows its infrastructure footprint in the north, it will need to include countermeasures to offset this damage—such as creating specific operational zones to protect ecosystems or paying to mitigate harm done to the environment. 

Despite these challenges, Canada has extensive resources at its disposal, such as NATO’s new Climate Change and Security Centre of Excellence (CCASCOE), headquartered in Montreal. This center can coordinate best practices, act as a standard-setting body, and provide guidance for allies and partners to operate sustainably in the region. Drawing on lessons from the European Arctic and adapting them for the North American Arctic is one area in which this center of excellence can benefit dual-use infrastructure projects.

Another reason to ensure infrastructure in the Canadian Arctic meets environmental standards is to support Canada’s new Climate Competitiveness Strategy. By linking climate sustainability to economic growth, the Canadian government is building a competitive advantage at a time when other Group of Seven (G7) countries and the European Union are walking back pledges to meet green targets.

Include local communities’ expertise and experiences in infrastructure development

As investments in Canada’s Arctic infrastructure increase, environmental considerations are being taken into account—and the experiences and expertise of those living in Canada’s northernmost regions must also be integrated into planning. Indigenous and local communities are on the forefront of the challenges facing the region, from sinking roads and runways to access to healthcare. Calls to work with Indigenous and First Nation communities are integrated throughout the budget.

Starting in 2025–2026, the government is allocating C$40 million over two years to Indigenous Services Canada through the Strategic Partnerships Initiative “to support Indigenous capacity building and consultation on nation-building projects,” some of which will be in the Canadian Arctic. The Arctic Infrastructure Fund, with its C$1 billion over four years, is specifically tasked with advancing Indigenous economic reconciliation. The budget highlights that “dual-use infrastructure investments in the north will reliably meet both military and local needs, and the government recognizes that Inuit, First Nations, and other communities are best placed to identify community needs.” Spending on infrastructure in Canada’s north has military, economic, and local resilience factors. Ensuring local and Indigenous perspectives are integrated into all stages of infrastructure development—from the planning stages to design, groundbreaking, and finalization of projects—will be key to ensuring the investments successfully meet the needs of both the military and the local community. Investing in roadways, ports, and railways in the Arctic, in close alignment with the local community, will amplify whole-of-society resilience in ways not yet realized.

Recognize critical minerals’ potential as a driver of infrastructure development in the region.

The Canadian government’s decision to increase investment in infrastructure and its northern territories can be partially understood by the global race for rare earth materials heating up. At the G7 meeting in Alberta, the prime minister introduced the Critical Minerals Production Alliance—a Canadian-led initiative that leverages trusted international partnerships to enhance critical mineral supply chains for collective defense and advanced technology.

Canada is one of the top five producers of ten critical minerals, and minerals account for 5 percent of Canada’s nominal GDP. Its northern regions are home to significant deposits of iron ore, gold, diamonds, and rare earth elements. The Mary River Mine on Baffin Island is one of the world’s northernmost reserves of high-grade iron ore, producing millions of tons annually. Similarly, the Hope Bay and Meliadine gold mines contribute substantially to Canada’s mineral output. These resources are critical for economic development and for national security.

Another major priority identified in the new budget is the Port of Churchill Plus. A series of projects will upgrade the Port of Churchill—Canada’s only Arctic-region deepwater port for more than 106,000 miles of coastline—and expand trade corridors with an all-weather road, an upgraded rail line, a new energy corridor, and marine icebreaking capacity. The goal is for the Port of Churchill to become a major four-season and dual-use gateway for the region. Expanded export capacity in the north through Hudson Bay will contribute to increased and diversified trade with Europe and other partners, while more strongly linking Churchill to the rest of Canada.

While this push for access to critical minerals makes sense from an economic perspective, it has several notable roadblocks to overcome. First is the lack of processing and refinement capabilities in Canada, and in the West more broadly. China has exerted a global chokehold over rare earth materials globally, partly due to its technical expertise in the processing stage. Western companies have struggled to compete with China over environmental and regulatory concerns, which leads to the second point: Extraction of critical minerals has an environmental tradeoff. Canada’s economic expansionism and green ambitions will eventually collide—likely in the critical minerals space. In the ever-shifting global market for critical minerals, Canada cannot prioritize short-term economic gain over long-term environmental consequences.

As always, one of the core challenges facing infrastructure projects in Canada’s north lies in sustaining this momentum in the long term. The narrow passage of this budget by parliament demonstrates the challenges of minority government rule. Improving affordability for average Canadians was the main refrain of those who voted against the new budget—a challenge that will not go away in the short term. In the long term, Carney must break the chronic habit of previous governments promising on defense spending without following through. The budget also highlights upcoming sacrifices—C$60 billion in total spending cuts in the next five years—including a 10 percent cut to the public sector (amounting to roughly forty thousand jobs). Although the C$1 billion in funding through the Arctic Infrastructure Fund is a strong step forward, it will need considerably more funding to meet Canada’s ambitions in the region and must be supported by action.

About the author

Jason C. Moyer is a nonresident fellow with the Transatlantic Security Initiative at the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. 

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Serbia’s future depends on rebuilding rule of law and EU credibility https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/serbias-future-depends-on-rebuilding-rule-of-law-and-eu-credibility/ Tue, 23 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895146 After a full year of antigovernment protests, Belgrade faces a sustained challenge to the status quo. The corruption that drew protestors to the streets also stifle growth and imperil political freedom in the country. Restoring a credible path to EU accession would be the single most powerful external incentive for change.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Serbia’s reform drive has lost steam, with corruption and political centralization eroding the rule of law and limiting growth.
  • The student-led protests that began in late 2024 signal renewed civic pressure for fairer elections and stronger institutions—if they succeed, Serbia could return to its reform trajectory of the early 2000s.
  • Restoring a credible path to EU accession would be the single most powerful external incentive for change, with potential spillover benefits for stability and governance across the Western Balkans.

This is the third chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

Serbia’s freedom trajectory since 1995, according to the Freedom and Prosperity Indexes, falls into three distinct periods. The first is the dismal 1990s, defined by war, sanctions, and international isolation; institutions hollowed out, and the political sphere narrowed to the point of collapse. The second begins with the fall of Slobodan Milošević in 2000 and runs to roughly 2011, when the country reopened to the world and took the first steps toward European integration. The third starts around 2012, when the political environment tightened again and the gains of the previous decade began to erode. This pattern is visible in the Freedom Index: a sharp improvement after 2000, followed by a gradual downturn driven overwhelmingly by the political subindex after 2012.

The post-2000 rebound was immediate and dramatic in terms of politics and economics, but the rule of law took a more gradual turn. The political opening—competitive elections, wider latitude for civil society and media, and normalization of international relations—was the most visible change. Serbia signed bilateral investment treaties and free-trade agreements with neighbors and, in 2008, concluded a Stabilization and Association Agreement with the European Union. Even though domestic politics remained turbulent—Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić was assassinated in 2003, nationalism continued as a potent force, and Kosovo’s 2008 declaration of independence sparked a backlash—the trajectory differed markedly from the 1990s. European integration acted as the anchor that pulled politics and policy toward a more open equilibrium.

In 2010, the balance of incentives changed. After the global financial crisis, the EU’s enlargement energy waned; for the Western Balkans, accession increasingly looked theoretical rather than imminent. Without a credible “carrot and stick,” the reform push slowed across the region, while in Serbia, the political environment hardened against EU integration. The timing aligns with the ascent of the Serbian Progressive Party (SNS) and the rise of Aleksandar Vučić—first as prime minister in 2014 and later as president—under whom power centralized and media pluralism came under pressure. International observers like the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) became increasingly critical of the country’s internal dynamics. Civic activism—still very present—operated in a tighter space.


European integration acted as the anchor that pulled politics and policy toward a more open equilibrium.

Over the past thirteen years, the cumulative effect has been systemic: Corruption has eroded the rule of law and turned key institutions into instruments of incumbency. Elections remain formally competitive but are marked by recurrent irregularities that leave little chance for alternation. Ruling party-aligned media dominate the information space, public advertising is allocated opaquely, and the security services have targeted civil society organizations on dubious grounds. The result is a shrinking political arena in which checks and balances are increasingly performative rather than constraining.

Media pluralism has faced sustained pressure. Journalists and associations report smear campaigns, threats, and pervasive self-censorship, while access to advertising and public funds tracks political alignment. Civil society is larger and more professional than two decades ago, but its operating space has narrowed—foreign funding is stigmatized, senior officials attack prominent NGOs, and procedural burdens sap time and resources. The situation is not one of outright closure, but the cumulative friction is real.

Within the political subindex, the steepest, most persistent deterioration is in political rights—freedom of association and expression—while the elections and legislative-constraints components also weaken. The contour is recognizable: After the 2000 break, political rights jump, remain broadly stable until the early 2010s, and then trace a clear decline that, while significant, does not return to 1990s levels. Elections remain formally competitive, but the tilt in media access and state resources has grown; the legislative constraints on the executive ebb as power concentrates in the presidency.

The legal subindex tells a different story: It starts at a low point, followed by early reforms and then stasis. The first post-Milošević years saw the establishment of baseline prosecutorial and judicial reforms, but two hard problems persisted: a lack of genuine independence from the executive and the capacity to process cases in a timely, professional way. Both remain binding constraints. Serbia’s legal profile improves off its post-conflict trough and then plateaus, reflecting institutions that function day-to-day but buckle at the most sensitive interfaces with politics. The causes are structural: Building effective, impartial courts is far harder and slower than opening political space, and where EU conditionality is weak or distant, momentum lags.


The steepest, most persistent deterioration is in political rights—freedom of association and expression.

The legal upswing in the 2000s reflected real change—new courts, stronger constitutional guarantees, prosecutorial reforms, and a framework closer to European norms—and informality fell as tax bases modernized and customs enforcement improved. But judicial independence and effectiveness remained the weak links: External pressure, slow case resolution, selective enforcement in high-profile economic cases, and gaps in accountability and conflicts-of-interest rules kept trust low. Those frictions continue to drag on the economy.

Within the legal subindex, Serbia’s early-2000s bump is consistent with a shift from conflict to basic legal normalcy—laws regularized, courts reopened, and administration stabilized—with only minor oscillations later. The 2019–20 dip likely reflects the major protests triggered by the murder of opposition politician Oliver Ivanović in 2018, which led many opposition parties to boycott the 2020 elections. It also reflects setbacks in judicial reform and popular distrust in legal institutions. Constitutional amendments were eventually adopted in 2022, a move that modestly improved formal judicial independence even though implementation remains contested. 

The economic subindex improves steadily from the early 2000s until the pandemic, then levels off. Its composition helps explain why. Women’s economic freedom—largely driven by statutory changes captured in the World Bank’s Women, Business and the Law global report—rises markedly in the mid-2000s. Investment freedom and trade freedom also strengthen as Serbia deepens its commercial integration with the EU and broadens ties with Russia, China, Turkey, and others. Regulatory reform—streamlined procedures, clearer company law, and liberalized capital flows—improved the investment climate, while the accession process nudged alignment on services and market-access rules. New firms entered and integrated into regional supply chains in manufacturing and agribusiness, even as legacy incumbents persisted in some sectors. This is the one domain where policy has been consistently outward-oriented over the past quarter-century, even as rule-of-law reforms slowed. In effect, Serbia decoupled economic integration from institutional convergence: It became a more open, investor-friendly production platform without moving in tandem on media freedom or judicial independence. However, challenges remain in economic freedom. Property-rights enforcement and contract execution remain below EU norms—a deterrence for smaller investors. State-owned enterprises still play an outsized role in some sectors, obstructing competition and investment freedom. The use of incentives, particularly for some foreign investors, while bringing in new capital can also distort the level playing field.

The most recent political developments underscore both the resilience of civil society and the limits of the current equilibrium. Since late 2024, large student-led protests—sparked by a fatal building collapse in the city of Novi Sad and subsequent corruption allegations in the construction industry—have broadened into a sustained challenge to the status quo. The student-led movement remains within institutional politics: It aims to contest and win elections and then reform from within. Whether it can do so without direct confrontation depends on the state’s willingness to ensure a level playing field—and on the response of powerful external patrons. In the Freedom Index, the immediate consequences fall on the political subindex, but the stakes are larger: Progress in the legal subindex will require credible insulation of the judiciary from political interference, and professional policing—areas that have lagged for a decade.

Evolution of prosperity

Serbia’s prosperity profile reflects the same three phases, but the translation from freedom to outcomes is neither automatic nor linear. In the early 2000s, as political freedoms opened and the economy reconnected to Europe, income per capita rose and the country began to narrow the gap with the regional average. Then the 2008–09 financial crisis hit Serbia, though not as hard as in many EU member states—partly because Serbia was outside the euro area and partly because of its diversified trade and investment partners. The pandemic-era shock was similar: Growth dipped but recovered quickly relative to Western Europe, helped by early access to vaccines from China and less severe energy-price pass-through due to ties with Russia. The Prosperity Index’s income component captures this series of interruptions rather than collapse.

The country’s resilience is tied to its growth model. For roughly a decade, net foreign direct investment (FDI) inflows have run at about 6–7 percent of GDP, with sources increasingly diversified beyond the EU. China has become a leading investor, while Serbia has also plugged into German value chains in mid-tier manufacturing. The model is not high-tech sophistication; rather, it is steady insertion into European (and to a degree global) production networks. As long as political stability held, the arrangement delivered: jobs in export-oriented plants, a stronger tradables base, and sustained convergence. The current uncertainty—whether stability can continue without institutional reform—is therefore not an abstract governance concern but a direct question about the durability of the prosperity path.

Prosperity has more dimensions than income, and Serbia’s experience across them is uneven. Health is the sharpest outlier in the pandemic period: While output fell less than in Western Europe, excess mortality was higher, reflecting more permissive lockdowns, thinner safety nets, and health-system limits. Over the long run, health outcomes have improved, but there is still a persistent gap with richer European systems; out-of-pocket costs are high by regional standards, and hospital infrastructure trails the EU core.

Education follows a less pronounced trajectory. The baseline is decent legacy human capital—Serbia inherits strong math and engineering traditions from Yugoslavia—but the system struggles with funding and modernization. The Prosperity Index’s education component rises gradually with cohort attainment and expected years of schooling, but there is no step change akin to the post-2000 political jump. The bottlenecks are familiar: teacher pay and training, infrastructure in secondary and vocational streams, and alignment with the needs of an export-oriented manufacturing base.

On income inequality, Serbia’s path in the 2000s and early 2010s conforms to a modest Kuznets-style worsening—where inequality rises during the early stages of development—as growth resumed and labor markets restructured. That was followed by a period of relative stability and, by the mid-2010s, Serbia’s Gini index was among the higher readings in Europe, reflecting how early market liberalization often rewards upper deciles first while redistribution and competition policy lag. Today’s level is close to the mid-1990s baseline, underscoring how incomplete rule-of-law reform constrains broad-based gains. Here again, the structure of growth matters: FDI-led manufacturing and construction have provided employment and some formalization, but the gains are uneven across regions and skill levels. When investment cools—because confidence dips or political risk rises—the distributional strain is quickest to reappear at the margins.


The environment and the treatment of minorities complete the picture. In environmental quality, the legacy of coal-heavy energy and industrial emissions weighs on air quality, especially in urban centers, even as gradual gains in household energy and vehicle standards help. The Prosperity Index’s environment component records a slow improvement that is vulnerable to policy drift and external shocks. The politics of a green transition are visible in the Jadar lithium project near Loznica. Touted as a strategic growth opportunity and opposed over groundwater risks, land loss, and opacity, the mining project has swung from license revocation in 2022 to partial reinstatement in 2024, reigniting protests. The episode captures the broader dilemma: aligning investment with credible environmental standards and local consent.

On minority access, the record is mixed: Legal protections exist and the worst 1990s legacies have receded, but equal access to services and opportunities depends on local administration and enforcement capacity—precisely the legal-institutional levers that have lagged. Post-2000 reforms—constitutional protections, cultural councils, and local representation—moved minority rights closer to regional norms, especially for Hungarians, Bosniaks, and Roma, but progress has stalled since 2011. Formal guarantees remain, but politicization, uneven municipal implementation, and hostile media narratives in tense electoral periods have limited real access to services and opportunities.

The interaction between freedom and prosperity is clearest in three places. First, the post-2012 slide in political rights bleeds into the economy by weakening predictability: When media scrutiny and legislative checks soften, policy becomes more discretionary, which eventually shows up as softer investment freedom and a more erratic economic policy. Second, the state capacity problems in legal matters—especially judicial independence and effectiveness—translate into higher transaction costs, slower dispute resolution, and a bias toward insiders; these are prosperity-sapping frictions, even in an open-trade, FDI-friendly regime. Third, women’s economic freedom raises the ceiling on growth by widening the labor pool and entrepreneurial base; Serbia’s mid-2000s improvement on statutory gender equality has been a quiet contributor to its industrial catch-up. The Prosperity Index registers all three channels, but the pace and breadth of gains depend on whether the political and legal pillars reinforce or undercut one another.


The post-2012 slide in political rights bleeds into the economy by weakening predictability.

Finally, recent domestic politics inject new uncertainty into what had become a well-understood model. The student-led protests that began in late 2024 have matured into a more organized political movement seeking early elections and a reform mandate. It is clear that this crisis will not simply fade away. Any escalation will pose serious questions for both Serbia’s democratic trajectory and the wider Western Balkans, where progress on rule of law, civic rights, and European integration remains fragile.

Investors are studying these signals closely. Already, foreign direct investment has fallen sharply: in the first five months of 2025, net FDI inflows amounted to roughly €631 million, compared with about €1.943 billion in the same period the year before—a drop of around 67.5 percent. If the political outcome is a genuine leveling of the electoral playing field and a credible push on rule-of-law reforms, Serbia’s prosperity path could re-accelerate—foreign capital is mobile and already present at scale. But if confrontation mounts, early elections are denied, and external patrons from China and Russia harden their positions, the risk is a prolonged standstill with wider regional repercussions.

The Prosperity Index is a lagging indicator here, but its income and inequality components will tell the tale in the next few readings.

The path forward

Serbia’s way forward is not mysterious, but it will be hard. The growth model that delivered catch-up—trade openness, diversified investment partners, and insertion into European value chains—remains viable. But it is probably not going to deliver the same amount of growth in an increasingly fragmented global economy facing higher tariffs and a global slowdown in FDI. And preserving it now requires political and legal reforms that were postponed when the EU accession horizon receded. The central insight of the last decade is that while economic integration can be decoupled from institutional convergence for a time, it cannot be decoupled indefinitely. The Freedom Index already shows the cost of delay in the political subindex, and the longer the legal subindex lags, the more the prosperity gains will flatten.


It is clear that this crisis will not simply fade away … escalation will pose serious questions for both Serbia’s democratic trajectory and the wider Western Balkans.

The immediate priority is political. Elections must be not only formally competitive but substantively fair, with balanced media access and a clean separation between state resources and party campaigning. Legislative oversight should recover ground lost to executive centralization; if the presidency remains dominant, courts and parliament cannot perform their checking functions. Serbia’s civil society has shown it can mobilize against overreach; the question is whether that energy can produce institutional change without confrontation. A credible commitment to level competition would register quickly in the political subindex—especially in elections and political rights—and, with a short lag, in investment sentiment.

The second priority is legal. Serbia needs a judiciary that is both insulated and empowered. Independence requires appointment and promotion systems that minimize political leverage; effectiveness requires resources and management that accelerate case processing and professionalize court administration. The legal subindex’s components offer a checklist: Clarify laws and reduce contradictions; strengthen judicial independence and effectiveness; improve bureaucratic quality while tightening corruption control; maintain security without eroding civil liberties; and treat informality not as a statistical curiosity but as evidence of high transaction costs that can be lowered. Even modest improvements would be catalytic: When firms expect fair, timely adjudication, they invest more and formalize faster, amplifying the earlier economic gains due to trade and investment liberalization.

Sound economic policy should aim to keep what works and fix what jeopardizes it. The external stance—openness to EU markets, continued diversification of partners, and predictable treatment of foreign investors—has served Serbia well. But stability established by way of muted scrutiny is running out of road. A rules-first approach to fiscal policy, procurement, and state-firm relations would lower the risk premium without forcing a retreat from the country’s pragmatic geoeconomic posture. In this sense, the economic subindex’s strongest components—trade, investment, and women’s economic freedoms—are the baseline to protect, while property-rights enforcement and corruption control are the levers for raising the ceiling.

Prosperity policy should target slow variables that pay off across cycles. Health outcomes require steady investment in primary care, hospital equipment, and public-health capacity; the pandemic showed how quickly gaps widen when systems are overrun. Education needs a dual track: modernized general schooling and a serious vocational stream matched to the country’s role in regional value chains. Inequality is best tackled by sustaining labor-intensive FDI while pushing more value added into local supply chains; when more of the “last mile” of production happens domestically, wage gains spread. Environmental quality will improve when energy policy tilts toward cleaner sources and when industrial standards rise; here, alignment with EU norms is both feasible and, over time, growth-enhancing. The Prosperity Index components—health, education, inequality, environment, minorities—will move together if legal quality does its part.

Geopolitics will keep testing Serbia’s pragmatism. The country’s relative nonalignment among major powers has so far produced diversified capital and insurance against shocks. The risk is that a domestic political crisis or external confrontation would force sharper choices. The safest way to preserve room for maneuvering is institutional: Fairer elections, stronger oversight, professional courts, and trustworthy administration lower the temperature at home and raise trust abroad. Investors do not require perfection; they require predictability. The Freedom Index’s political and legal pillars are proxies for that predictability, and progress there will determine whether the Prosperity Index resumes its upward slope or plateaus.

Reenergizing the EU accession track would have effects well beyond Serbia’s borders. Because Belgrade sits at the center of the region’s unresolved files—above all, relations with Kosovo and the major constitutional and territorial agenda in Bosnia and Herzegovina—building Serbian stability would lower regional tensions. A visible move from Belgrade to a more committed EU path would lower the political risk premium, unlock stalled dossiers, and revive the demonstration effect that powered reforms in earlier enlargement waves. The spillovers would be tangible—more predictable rules, faster dispute resolution, clearer procurement—and would draw in investment that binds the region more securely to European value chains. In short, if Serbia moves, the region moves; if Serbia stalls, momentum will move elsewhere in the region.

A recommitment to Serbia’s EU integration is possible. The region offers examples of rapid legal improvements when potential EU accession is real and monitored; Serbia’s own economy shows how quickly openness pays when credibility is present. What has been decoupled can be recoupled: political pluralism that is not merely formal, legal institutions that function without fear or favor, and an economy that remains as open and diversified as the past decade but under rules that are clearer and more evenly enforced. If that alignment is restored, the next readings should show the familiar pattern in reverse: first, stabilization of political rights and elections; next, a nudge up in legal quality; then, renewed momentum in investment and trade freedom—followed by broader prosperity gains that are felt not only in GDP charts but in health clinics, classrooms, and paychecks.

about the author

Richard Grieveson is deputy director at the Vienna Institute for International Economic Studies and a member of the Balkans in Europe Policy Advisory Group. He coordinates wiiw’s analysis and forecasting of Central, East and Southeast Europe. In addition he works on European policy analysis, European integration, EU enlargement, economic history, and political economy.

He holds degrees from the universities of Cambridge, Vienna, and Birkbeck. Previously he worked as director in the Emerging Europe Sovereigns team at Fitch Ratings and regional manager in the Europe team at the Economist Intelligence Unit.

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Against a global backdrop of uncertainty, fragmentation, and shifting priorities, we invited leading economists and scholars to dive deep into the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries around the world. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

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Twenty leading economists, scholars, and diplomats analyze the state of freedom and prosperity in eighteen countries around the world, looking back not only on a consequential year but across twenty-nine years of data on markets, rights, and the rule of law.

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How to equip Canada’s defense industrial base to meet NATO’s Hague summit commitments https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/how-to-equip-canadas-defense-industrial-base-to-meet-natos-hague-summit-commitments/ Tue, 23 Dec 2025 00:39:49 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895694 In 2025 Canada met NATO’s target of spending 2 percent of GDP on defense for the first time and committed to the new target of 5 percent by 2035, but its defense industrial base will struggle to deliver in its current state.

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Bottom lines up front

  • In 2025 Canada met NATO’s target of spending 2 percent of GDP on defense for the first time and committed to the new target of 5 percent by 2035, but its defense industrial base will struggle to deliver in its current state.
  • Canada will need to grow its defense industrial base through consistent and predictable contracts, streamline the procurement process, and develop expertise in niche markets such as specialized Arctic capabilities.
  • Canada is diversifying its defense industrial partnerships globally, particularly with European partners—a logical step and one to build on.

At the June 2025 NATO summit in The Hague, allies committed to spend 5 percent of their GDP on defense, with 3.5 percent focused on core defense and 1.5 percent on related defense expenditures. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney says his country is committed to reaching NATO’s new defense spending target of 5 percent of GDP by 2035—and his government is also on track to meet the previous 2 percent target for the first time by spending an additional C$8.7 billion ($6.58 billion) this fiscal year (which ends in March 2026). Canada has struggled to meet NATO goals in the past. In 2023, it failed to meet both of NATO’s defense spending targets of 2 percent of GDP on defense and 20 percent of that spending allocated for research, development, and equipment. 

Although there is now support for increased defense expenditure at the highest levels of government, Canada has underinvested in its defense industrial base for decades and will need renewed focus, resources, and support to meet the country’s Hague commitments. How will Canada’s defense industrial base adapt to meet the current moment? Carney has put forward the bold claim that “Canada is meeting this moment with determination and resolve—modernising our defence capabilities, strengthening our industrial base, and reaffirming our role as a reliable partner in global security.” But what must its defense industrial base do to match this commitment?

In late 2025, the Atlantic Council’s Transatlantic Security Initiative hosted a workshop with government officials, academic experts, and participants from the public and private sectors of Canada, the United States, and Europe. The insights gathered from these conversations helped inform this issue brief, which assesses challenges, recommendations, and opportunities for Canada’s defense industrial base in an era defined by multiple conflicts and increased coordination by adversaries.

Canada’s defense industry at a crossroads

Canada has an extensive list of military equipment it needs to either produce domestically or purchase internationally, such as new warships, submarines, coastal defense vessels, fighter aircraft, and surveillance aircraft. This new equipment is needed for both national defense and to modernize Canada’s military to meet the current threat environment. In addition to renewing its leadership of the multinational NATO forces in Latvia, Canada has needed to strengthen its military capabilities along its three seas: in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Oceans. This comes at a time when Canada is also juggling bilateral border security cooperation and engaging in a major renewal of North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD) in close cooperation with the United States.

Central to Canada’s defense industry is its reliance on the US market and US companies, which supply much of Canada’s defense needs. Carney has often noted that one challenge facing Canada’s defense industry is that approximately 75 cents of every dollar in capital spending on defense winds up going to firms based in the United States. The relative size of the Canadian defense industrial base and its ability to compete internationally for contracts remain concerns as new funding flows to industry at an unprecedented rate. 

For the first time, Canada’s military is poised to receive additional funding through the new federal budget and facing “the uncomfortable position of having so much cash it will be hard to keep up.” This represents a dramatic mindset shift for the military, which has had to cope with deficits of people, equipment, training, and sustainment. Now, with more funding allocated for defense, the hard work begins as Canada tries to use that funding effectively to address gaps in equipment, personnel shortages, and better training opportunities for its military. 

With this increased available funding, the question matters of Canada’s procurement process and how to adapt it to meet the current moment. Canada’s procurement process, sometimes described as “glacial,” has received more attention lately and has a new agency focused on eliminating waste and accelerating the process. At the same time, Canada should recognize the constraints it faces regarding the size and scope of its defense industry; it should instead focus on niche areas in which it can excel, such as the maritime or Arctic domains. Many hurdles remain for Canada to meet the current moment, including personnel shortages in both the Canadian Armed Forces and industry roles. The Canadian Armed Forces (CAF), in its army modernization report, outlines the challenges facing the CAF to modernize, with at least another fourteen thousand recruits needed to meet the current security environment.

Recommendations for the Department of National Defence

1. Create consistent and predictable defense contracts for industry

A frequent refrain from industry is that the lack of consistency and predictably about defense contracts makes it challenging to scale and expand. A stable defense industrial base can foster innovation and address evolving challenges facing Euro-Atlantic security. The Canadian defense industry contributes about $10 billion annually to the economy and supports an estimated eighty-one thousand jobs. By investing in its domestic defense industry, niche capabilities, and evergreen infrastructure in the near term, the Canadian government can not only meet its NATO commitments but also expand job growth and economic performance. The long-term timeline for this investment in Canada’s defense industrial base will be key—Carney leads a minority government and this inevitably leads to a degree of uncertainty about long-term government commitment. Canada’s defense industrial base will not be able to meet the current moment with a one-off surge in available funding; it requires consistent and predictable funding over a longer-term horizon.

To get a sense of the importance of consistent and predictable defense contracts, look no further than the Canadian Patrol Submarine Project (CPSP) modernization process. Canada has been in the market for a new submarine fleet that is deployable in the Arctic with extended range and endurance. Two qualified suppliers—a German company and a South Korean company—will work with the Canadian maritime and defense sectors to deliver new submarines by 2035. So far, there is no project budget for this initiative, leading to uncertainty from an industry perspective. The Justin Trudeau government frequently made promises about defense spending that failed to materialize. The Parliamentary Budget Office recently quantified past underspending: between 2017 and 2023, efforts to buy new equipment fell short by C$18.3 billion. Ammunition producers claim they need at least C$800 million to open new production lines. Ultimately, for industry to respond to government decisions regarding its defense and security needs, a level of consistency and predictability must be provided, which has been a challenge for Canada’s defense industrial base in the past.

2. Streamline and strengthen the procurement process 

If defense spending is now a given, the question then turns to how the Canadian Armed Forces will acquire the materiel they need. On October 2, Carney announced the formation of a new agency, the Defence Investment Agency (DIA), to facilitate and accelerate the defense procurement process. The procurement process had previously been fragmented across multiple departments, resulting in significant slowdowns in obtaining critical equipment. The DIA removes some of the red tape and redundancies with a centralized review and approval process. The agency has a specific aim to bolster Canada’s domestic defense industry, to empower Canadian companies to compete globally while also investing in dual-use capabilities. This will specifically address a frequent criticism that by the time equipment is delivered it is either out of date or unfit for the current mission. Additionally, the agency hopes to bridge the divide between industry and government by bolstering awareness on both sides of the timelines, costs, and expectations for equipment deliveries.

The formation of the DIA is the first step in an overdue streamlining and strengthening exercise for procurement. As the Canadian government seeks to foster innovation and create national champions in the defense space, it needs to continue bridging the divide between industry and government. Additional work can be done to ensure a role for Canada’s many small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) in its industrial base, which is critical to ensure agility and flexibility. The current conflict in Ukraine has demonstrated the significance of drones, but the next conflict might look very different and, in turn, might require industry to adapt to changing battlefield conditions. SMEs are better poised to adapt and pivot as technology evolves at a rapid pace and ensure Canada’s military is ready to respond to future conflicts. 

3. Balance “Buy Canadian” with buying the right equipment for the mission

Despite the improvements to the procurement process, the Canadian Armed Forces still needs to ensure they are buying the best possible equipment for the mission. As the CAF seeks more expeditionary and proactive capabilities, this modernization effort places a premium on not just buying domestically but buying the best possible equipment. The prime minister’s new goal of focusing investment on domestic manufacturers will naturally come into conflict with the army’s modernization efforts if Canada’s defense industrial base cannot produce equipment to meet its operational needs. In turn, this decision to “Buy Canadian” will impact Canada’s ability to export its materiel and potentially raise barriers to other markets. Canada exports about half of the defense materiel it produces, with 63 percent destined for the United States and a further 12 percent to the Middle East and Africa. Striking the right balance between investing in its domestic industrial base and strengthening ties to international markets will be key to the long-term sustainability of Canada’s defense industrial base.

4. Strengthen ties with Europe

The conversation around bolstering Canada’s defense industrial base mirrors those conversations taking place in Germany, France, and elsewhere across Europe. Indeed, a deepening of Canada-Europe relations has been on display in the last year in response to the growing complexity of international conflicts and crises. This includes a landmark security and defense partnership between the European Union (EU) and Canada, which was agreed to in June 2025. This defense pact paves the way for the two to cooperate on cyber, maritime, and space security, and also opens the door to joint weapon procurement. Additionally, Canada has been proposed as a potential participant in the EU’s Security Action for Europe (SAFE) program, offering low-interest loans to accelerate procurement and investment in defense capabilities.

Diversifying and increasing the number of strategic partnerships globally, instead of over-relying on a single provider for its defense materiel, is a logical step to strengthen Canada’s defense industrial base—and also spurs innovation and supply chain resilience. Beyond the EU, Canada has sought to strengthen opportunities to collaborate with its fellow Five Eyes members, particularly the United Kingdom and Australia. The newly formed Canadian DIA aims to facilitate conversations with its counterparts in France, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Due to the similarity of their intentions to spend more on defense, Canada will have natural partners in European nations, as well as the EU more broadly. 

5. Focus on doing a few things well rather than trying to do everything all at once

A consistent theme across the various challenges facing Canada’s defense industry—its size, speed, and reliance on the US market—can all be partially solved by specializing in a few niche areas rather than doing too much all at once. Three specific areas in which Canada has both urgent needs for development and the opportunity to specialize are: unmanned autonomous systems (aerial and underwater vehicles in particular); Arctic-specific technologies, including icebreakers; and maritime capabilities leveraging Canada’s three-ocean geography. The Arctic region emerges repeatedly as a unique domain in which Canada should invest more, for both its own national security purposes and for enhancing wider Alliance capabilities. Canada has the most icebreakers of any NATO ally and is working through the trilateral ICE Pact (with Finland and the United States) to build even more of these highly specialized vessels. Capitalizing on the dearth of icebreakers within NATO would give Canada a unique opportunity to leverage its Arctic capabilities to support its shipbuilding industry while enhancing Alliance capabilities in the Arctic.

Conclusion

Carney’s government is taking unprecedented steps to strengthen Canada’s armed forces, invest in the country’s industrial base, and reaffirm Canada’s role as a reliable partner within NATO and the wider global security context. While his government’s approach and announcements so far are laudable, Canada now must turn to the task of how to support and expand its defense industrial base to meet these goals. Without this foundation, Carney’s pledges will fail to translate into improved capabilities and will hinder attempts to modernize the CAF. Time is short, the amount of work ahead is significant, and history will remember how Canada meets the current moment and security environment. 

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First hundred days: How Kast can accelerate US investment in Chile https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/first-hundred-days-how-kast-can-accelerate-us-investment-in-chile/ Mon, 22 Dec 2025 21:12:03 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895516 Chile's newly elected president enters office facing a slew of economic pressures: slow growth, weak investment, stagnant productivity, high inequality, limited social mobility, and regional gaps. What can his administration do to jumpstart foreign direct investment?

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Bottom lines up front

  • Chile elected José Antonio Kast president December 14, after a campaign centered on economic growth, security, and institutional stability.
  • Kast’s proposed security measures aim to restore the predictability of long-term investment needs.
  • To deepen economic ties with the US, in his first hundred days Kast could also expand workforce training and regional programs to ensure access to skilled talent across the country.

New president, new pressures

José Antonio Kast will head to La Moneda in March 2026. Chile’s president-elect won the second round of the election with 58.2 percent of the vote—winning by a margin of more than 16 percentage points. The day after the election, Kast met with outgoing President Gabriel Boric and emphasized afterward that he will advance a “government of national unity on priority issues: security, health, education, and housing.”

Kast will enter office with a slew of economic pressures in his inbox: slow growth, weak investment, stagnant productivity, high inequality, limited social mobility, and regional gaps. The labor market remains segmented, with low female participation and high informality. Along with these economic pressures, security and rising crime rates dominated the electoral campaign and addressing them will be central to Kast’s government plan.

In 2024, Chile’s economy showed signs of stable but uneven recovery, with moderate 2.6-percent gross domestic product (GDP) growth driven largely by mining, easing inflation, and falling poverty, while unemployment and informality remained elevated and investment growth lagged. Looking ahead to 2026, growth is expected to remain steady at 2.6 percent. Alongside a narrowing fiscal deficit and inflation stabilizing, this suggests a macroeconomic environment that is steady but still dependent on restoring investment momentum.

Chileans want to see changes and expect Kast to deliver some economic wins quickly. But the ability to do so goes hand in hand with addressing the increased rates of crime and violence. Kast’s campaign focused on the security of the country with proposals such as his Plan Implacable,  which aims to “restore state authority and curb organized crime” through tougher penalties, more federal control over prisons, and stronger security operations, while also reasserting state authority in areas where criminal networks have expanded. This plan might be among the things on which Chileans want Kast to take action first. However, Kast and his administration need to balance what they want and what they can actually get done, especially regarding migration and deportation.

A challenging congress

The first one hundred days of the Kast administration will test the executive’s ability to move legislation that supports faster growth, rebuilds investor confidence that has been weakened by security concerns and political fragmentation, and signals a clearer economic direction.

That said, Kast takes office with a congress that leans right but does not give him full control. Right and far-right parties aligned with Kast hold seventy-six of the 155 seats in the Chamber of Deputies, with his second-round opponent Jeannette Jara’s left and far-left coalition of Unidad por Chile controlling sixty-one. The swing party of Franco Parisi, Partido de la Gente, holds fourteen seats.

Kast will need a simple majority to pass most legislation. But constitutional amendments and reforms of the electoral system would require two-thirds of votes in the congress. Kast’s coalition cannot reach either threshold on its own, and must work with partners to move any major bill forward. This makes the Partido de la Gente especially important. Because no bloc controls a majority, its fourteen deputies are in position to decide whether a proposal advances or fails. Its votes can tilt negotiations, shape the final text of legislation, and determine how governable the next term becomes.

Passing legislation through the lower house will be easier, but major legislation such as Kast’s proposed mass deportations will need broader support. The evenly split senate will require him to work with the traditional right as well as swing actors to move legislation. As such, Kast will be faced with increased pressure to deliver short-term results on crime and economic growth, signaling early whether his administration can translate public demand for order and stability into a more predictable environment for investment, something US investors typically look for before committing capital in Chile.

How Chile’s investment environment has shifted

Since the mid-1980s, Chile has implemented significant reforms that opened its economy and encouraged foreign investment. These included changes in the financial and social markets, such as Law No. 20.848 of 2015 establishing the framework for foreign direct investment (FDI), as well as other tax and labor reforms. However, social unrest in 2019, the COVID-19 pandemic, two failed constitutional reform attempts, and rising crime have affected investor confidence.

The trade relationship between Chile and the United States is one of the deepest and most strategic for our country. Since the Free Trade Agreement came into effect in 2004—which allowed 100 percent of bilateral trade to be duty-free by 2015—trade between the two countries has more than doubled, and Chilean exports to the US have grown steadily. Today, the United States is our second-largest export destination and also the second-largest foreign investor in Chile, reflecting a mutual trust built over time.

The opportunities to deepen this partnership are enormous: sustainable energy, critical minerals, green hydrogen, water and digital infrastructure, and advanced technologies. Chile contributes stability, legal certainty, and strategic resources; the United States brings innovation and capital. Strengthening this cooperation is key to driving investment, productivity, and new opportunities for both countries.


—Susana Jiménez Schuster, president, Confederation of Production and Trade (CPC)

The foundation for investment in Chile lies in democracy, rule of law, and a predictable regulatory environment. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) has indicated that Chile’s growth might be reaching a ceiling, making continued reforms—such as streamlining permits, encouraging innovation, digitalizing paperwork, simplifying regulations, and removing bottlenecks—essential for reigniting momentum.

Chile has economic sectors with great potential that meet global demand for a wide range of goods and services, as well as developed markets and a stable institutional framework. Just as our country can offer attractive conditions to foreign investors, we can also provide knowledge and talent in those industries where we have developed a high level of know-how and expertise. Chile’s growth has been founded on strong collaboration, and free trade agreements with various economies around the world.


—Francisco Pérez Mackenna, board member, AmCham Chile

What makes Chile an attractive destination for US investors

Several conditions strengthen opportunities for US investment in Chile. Together they shape a more attractive environment for long-term investment is likely to be a priority for the incoming Kast government.

  • Chile is a key tech hub in Latin America. This is because of its stable economy, strong startup ecosystem, skilled workforce, advanced digital infrastructure, and government-backed innovation programs. Successful tech projects require a strong and solid workforce. According to CBRE’s Scoring Tech Talent 2025 report, Santiago has the third-highest tech talent pool in Latin America, with more than 143,000 professionals. This positions Chile as an attractive hub for companies to expand. That said, most initiatives are heavily concentrated in Santiago, emphasizing the need for additional training in both the northern and southern regions to ensure successful new project implementation.
  • US companies benefit from working with reliable local partners, in part because Chile has clear rules for contracts and strong institutions and because local firms usually have long experience navigating permitting, local procurement, cultural nuances, and sector-specific regulations. These conditions create an environment where these partnerships give foreign investors a dependable base of support on the ground.  
  • Investors trust Chile because its infrastructure is strong, and its politics stay steady. In 2024, Chile received $15.3 billion in FDI, one of the highest inflows in recent years. A big share of that comes from reinvesting earnings, which shows that companies already in Chile are confident enough to expand. The government agency InvestChile closed 2024 with a portfolio of $56.2 billion in foreign-backed projects, with US companies investing the largest share at $20.5 billion. Major investments target clean energy: green hydrogen, mining, and infrastructure. These numbers show that foreign investors, especially those from the United States, believe in Chile’s long-term stability and the clarity of its rules. They see a country where projects can start quickly and scale up, thanks to predictable regulations and reliable systems. That confidence in both infrastructure and political stability strengthens the case for more investment.

The U.S. International Development Finance Corporation (DFC)’s mandate prioritizes investments in markets that offer predictability, stability, and clear rules, conditions that have historically made countries like Chile attractive for engagement. The DFC, a US federal agency, was created under the 2018 Better Utilization of Investments Leading to Development (BUILD) Act, which merged the Overseas Private Investment Corporation (OPIC) with USAID’s Development Credit Authority. Its core purpose is to mobilize private capital to advance US development and foreign policy objectives by leveraging financial tools such as loans, equity investments, guarantees, and political risk insurance to support private-sector-led solutions in markets where commercial finance is limited or unavailable.

In December 2025, Congress reauthorized and modernized the DFC through the FY 2026 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), extending its authorization through 2031, and significantly expanding its scope and authorities. Under this reauthorization, the DFC’s investment cap (Maximum Contingent Liability) was raised to $205 billion, and the agency gained new tools, including a $5 billion equity revolving fund and increased equity investment authority. The legislation also broadened DFC’s ability to invest in more countries and sectors while placing limits on financing in the wealthiest countries, ensuring that no more than 10 percent of its portfolio may support high-income markets, with specified sector exceptions such as energy, critical minerals, and information and communications technology.

While Chile’s high-income status means that large-scale DFC engagement is still limited compared with developing markets, the agency can support selected projects in strategic areas, including clean energy, critical minerals, infrastructure, and technology, particularly where there is a clear economic or strategic rationale and consistent with the statutory constraints on participation in wealthy countries.

Addressing bottlenecks to further FDI in Chile

Following the presidential election, Chile enters a new political phase with renewed attention on how the next administration will translate campaign promises into policy. Chile continues to take steps to strengthen its investment environment, while facing persistent bottlenecks that shape foreign investor confidence and will influence the country’s economic direction in the months ahead.

  • Regulatory delays are a major concern and become impediments. Permitting and environmental review processes can take several years. However, the Framework Law on Sectoral Authorizations (Law 21.770)—better known as the Ley de Permisología, which creates the Framework Law on Sectoral Authorizations (LMAS)—was enacted and posted in September 2025. The goal is to update and speed up the permit process to encourage investment. The law creates a single digital portal called SUPER to manage permits simultaneously, introduces simplified procedures for low-risk projects, and establishes administrative silence. Streamlining and updating procedures are expected to drop processing times between 30 percent and 70 percent without lowering regulatory standards. This will also be a step forward for attracting foreign investment.
  • Policy uncertainty remains a concern for long-term investors. Over the past decade, shifts between governments of the right and left have created questions about the direction of future regulations. Relations between Santiago and Washington are expected to further deepen under a new administration. Kast will need to show that he can meet public expectations for stronger growth and higher investment. Here, it’s critical to balance the demands of [JF1] parties across the political spectrum as this congressional balancing act is what’s needed to advance legislation reassuring to investors. Although Chile has struggled lately to attract FDI, the United States remains its second-largest source, with a strong presence in energy, data centers, and mining.
  • The economy also plays a major role in the current political moment. Chile has experienced slow growth for several years and unemployment sits at about 9 percent. Investment remains stagnant, with inflation and high living costs shaping daily choices for many Chileans. Voters widely see the current government as falling short in addressing these issues. The national budget was also a central topic of conversation during the election. The legislative commission in charge of reviewing the annual budget recently rejected the proposal for 2026; Kast will now likely express his approach to next year’s spending plan in the short term. That said, his proposal of gradual elimination of property taxes on primary residences, starting with those on homeowners over sixty-five, would reduce government revenue, meaning the 2026 budget will need to account for this shortfall. The administration will need to balance funding public services and implementing the policy in a fiscally responsible way.
  • Security is another major risk. While Chile remains relatively safe in comparison to select other countries, crime has risen in recent years—including organized crime, drug trafficking, and violence in northern regions and Santiago. Researchers estimate crime costs the country nearly $8 billion annually, discouraging some foreign investment. Kast made public safety a core part of his platform through the previous mentioned Plan Implacable, which includes tougher penalties for organized crime, high-security prisons, expanded self-defense laws, protections for law enforcement and judicial actors, and targeted border security measures with his Plan Escudo Fronterizo.

American investment has been central to the growth of Chile’s strategic industries, while Chile’s stability, talent, and infrastructure have enabled US companies to scale across Latin America. Significant opportunities remain. Chile is the world’s largest copper producer and holds 25 percent of global lithium output, with growing mineral-processing capacity and emerging resources such as rare earths and cobalt. The country is also becoming a regional digital hub, supported by projects like Google’s Humboldt Cable and expanding data-center infrastructure. Upcoming port concessions and the need for energy storage solutions in a rapidly growing clean-energy system offer additional avenues for deeper US investment.


—Beatriz Herrera, investment commissioner for North America, Embassy of Chile

Sectors in Chile with investment potential

  • Information technology (IT): Chile’s IT sector is expanding rapidly, driven by high internet penetration, widespread mobile connectivity, and growing demand for digital services. Key emerging sectors include fifth-generation (5G) deployment, big-data analytics, and artificial intelligence (AI) integration, supported by initiatives such as Chile Digital 2035 and the National AI Policy. To accelerate growth, Chile can build on existing programs by expanding Chile Digital 2035 and Digital Talent for Chile, increasing investment in digital infrastructure, scaling training and education initiatives, and deepening public-private partnerships to ensure broader access to advanced IT solutions, close the skills gap, and achieve full digitalization of public services.
  • Critical minerals (copper and lithium): As the world’s largest copper producer, supplying 24 percent of global output, and home to 41 percent of lithium reserves, Chile is a strategic source of materials essential for clean technologies. These include electric vehicles, energy storage, and digital infrastructure. With public policies promoting sustainability and high environmental standards, Chile is positioning itself to attract investment that advances technological innovation, supports the global energy transition, and fosters inclusive economic growth. China currently dominates global demand for Chilean copper and lithium, but Kast could attract more Western-aligned investment by promoting legal certainty, officering incentives, and fostering partnerships with companies that meet high environmental and governmental standards.
  • Water management and drought mitigation: Chile is increasingly leveraging public-private partnerships to improve water management and climate resilience. Investments focus on both traditional infrastructure, such as dams, and natural solutions including reforestation and wetland restoration. There is demand for technologies that enhance water efficiency, like advanced treatment and recycling systems, data-driven water management tools, and construction waste reduction. Sustainable agricultural practices that conserve water and lower input costs also present promising opportunities. Water management could become a strategic priority for Kast, with the advancement of such projects allowing the administration to deliver visible results, balance regional needs, and contribute to Chile’s robust agriculture sector.
  • Seismic-resilient infrastructure: Situated on one of the most active fault lines in the world, Chile experiences frequent earthquakes, including several above magnitudes of eight. Critical infrastructure—such as ports, airports, and energy facilities—requires modern seismic design. There is strong demand for engineering and technology services in risk modeling, resilience planning, and early warning systems. Opportunities include digital twins, smart sensors, and integrated solutions to strengthen utilities, transportation networks, and urban development.

How can the new Kast administration help unlock Chile’s economic potential and attract investment?

  • Visit Washington before the March 11 inauguration. This would reinforce Chile’s shared interests in economic security and investment cooperation, present project pipelines aligned with DFC priorities and clarify Chile’s commitments in areas such as energy transition and trade. Early engagement would allow Chile to secure a proactive position in shaping US investment decisions, demonstrate commitment to close cooperation with the United States, and build political support in the US Congress and executive branch for stronger bilateral financing ties. When in Washington, use the visit to generate broader public interest in the importance of Chile as a strong US partner.
  • Identify emerging skills and priority growth sectors in Chile and encourage private-sector programs that link education directly to industry needs. Kast can do this by providing tax incentives and speeding up the processing of paperwork for companies involved in workforce training. Scholarships, vocational training, apprenticeships, and partnerships with universities that teach technical skills can help equip students and current workers with the skills required for mining, technology, energy, and other strategic industries.
  • Maintain continuity in key policies on permitting reforms. This applies to policies such as the Ley de Permisología, which aims to streamline and coordinate environmental and sectoral permitting across government agencies, and they should be expanded to ensure that the ministries and offices involved are actively collaborating with each other. If government entities are not coordinating—for example, in the processing of environment permits—the procedures for key sectors such as mining and technology will continue to be delayed. Demonstrating consistency will reinforce Chile’s reputation as a stable investment destination and encourage both new and reinvested capital.
  • Avoid over-centralizing these initiatives in Santiago. This can be done by collaborating with regional partners or established private-sector actors to develop and train local workforces. This could include local recruitment, training programs at regional universities, and ongoing partnerships between the government and private sector.

These measures strengthen security in ways that matter for investors by creating clearer rules, steadier institutions, and stronger local trust. When the government improves workforce training and expands formal job opportunities, it reduces pressures that fuel crime in regions tied to mining and energy. Better coordination on permits lowers chances of corruption or operational disruptions because companies face fewer conflicting decisions from different agencies. Together, these steps create a safer and more predictable environment for investors. 

Conclusion

Chile remains a trusted and stable partner for the United States. Its democratic values, institutional strength, and openness to trade make it a strategic destination for US investment. But sustaining and expanding this partnership will require continued economic reforms and political engagement between both countries to ease processes for doing business, improve regulatory efficiency, enhance human capital, and foster political stability toward a robust, long-term strategic partnership. As Kast prepares to take office, he has an opportunity to set a foundation to ignite Chile’s economic growth and attract investment. And with the Western Hemisphere as a top priority for Washington, Chile has the potential to be an even more strategic partner to the United States.


The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors alone. Some of the investment opportunities discussed in this issue brief were informed by an October roundtable discussion on US-Chile investment relations, which included the participation of US and Chilean private-sector leaders, public-sector representatives, and multilateral organizations. The roundtable was organized in partnership with AmCham Chile and with the support of MetLife. Neither were involved in the production of this issue brief.

About the authors

Maite Gonzalez Latorre is program assistant at the Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center of the Atlantic Council.

Jason Marczak is vice president and senior director of the Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center of the Atlantic Council

Explore the program

The Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center broadens understanding of regional transformations and delivers constructive, results-oriented solutions to inform how the public and private sectors can advance hemispheric prosperity.

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Is extending the New START limits in the US national security interest? https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/is-extending-the-new-start-limits-in-the-us-national-security-interest/ Mon, 22 Dec 2025 20:41:09 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895163 This issue brief will ask and answer the question of whether extending the New START limits is in the US national security interest.

The post Is extending the New START limits in the US national security interest? appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Before the last remaining quantitative limit on US and Russian nuclear forces expires in February 2026, the United States must decide how to respond to Moscow’s proposal to extend the limits by one year.
  • Russia has violated at least nine arms control agreements since Putin assumed the presidency, and the global environment has changed dramatically since New START was negotiated in 2009.
  • Agreeing to extend New START does not make sense when the United States now faces the likelihood of two nuclear peers—especially when Washington can’t verify whether Moscow is abiding by the limits.

Table of contents

Introduction

The Treaty between the United States of America and the Russian Federation on Measures for the Further Reduction and Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms (also known as the New START treaty) expires on February 5, 2026. In September, Russian President Vladimir Putin proposed that Russia and the United States agree to continue complying with the “central quantitative limits” of the treaty for one additional year.1 He added, “We believe this measure will only be viable if the United States acts in a similar manner and does not take steps that undermine or disrupt the existing balance of deterrence potentials.”2

The United States must therefore decide whether to accept Putin’s proposal, reject it, or insist modifications be made. Given that New START is the last agreed-upon quantitative limit on the strategic nuclear forces of Russia and the United States, this is a consequential decision. Yet the choice is ultimately downstream of a more fundamental question: In order to assess the appropriate path forward, the United States must determine its strategy for managing the two-nuclear-peer threat environment that China’s rapid, unexplained nuclear buildup will create. Only then can Washington identify what nuclear forces will be required to implement that strategy with high confidence—an essential prerequisite for assessing whether an extension of New START aligns with US interests.

This issue brief will ask and answer the question of whether extending the New START limits is in the US national security interest. It will do so by analyzing the history of the New START treaty (including the circumstances under which it was negotiated); the nature of the two-peer nuclear problem and the strategic challenges it poses; the history of Russian arms control compliance; and the potential benefits and risks of accepting Putin’s proposal for a one-year extension of the New START central limits. The issue brief concludes with a recommendation for US action going forward.

US President Barack Obama and Russian President Vladimir Putin meet over breakfast in Moscow in July 2009. (White House photo by Pete Souza)

The history of New START

When the Obama administration took office in January 2009, it faced an immediate nuclear arms control challenge. Two strategic nuclear arms control treaties were in effect: the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START I) and the Strategic Offensive Reductions Treaty (SORT). The dilemma was that, while SORT reduced both sides’ operationally deployed strategic nuclear warheads to between 2,200 and 1,700 (far below START I’s limit of six thousand warheads), it contained no verification provisions. START I, which had significant verification provisions, was scheduled to expire in December 2009. The incoming administration rapidly sought to negotiate a follow-on agreement to SORT that would further reduce strategic nuclear forces and secure significant verification provisions before the expiration of START I. That new agreement would be dubbed New START.

At the time that the New START treaty was negotiated and signed, the United States did not view Russia as an adversary, and the prospect of large-scale war in Europe was deemed negligible. The 2010 Nuclear Posture Review (NPR) declared that “the most immediate and extreme threat today is nuclear terrorism,” a sentiment that reflected a strategic environment in which neither Russia nor China was assessed as a major or imminent strategic threat.3 Regarding the nuclear threat posed by Russia, the 2010 NPR stated, “While policy differences continue to arise between the two countries and Russia continues to modernize its still-formidable nuclear forces, Russia and the United States are no longer adversaries, and prospects for military confrontation have declined dramatically.”4 Similarly, at the time of New START negotiations, the nuclear threat posed by China was appropriately treated in US strategy as a “lesser included case” of the Russian nuclear threat, meaning that a force sufficient to implement US nuclear strategy vis-à-vis Russia with high confidence was sufficient to address the significantly smaller nuclear threat posed by China. That strategic assumption, however, no longer holds. 

The Obama administration’s perception of the threat environment—combined with the substantial conventional military superiority then held by the United States and its allies over any potential adversary—shaped its decision to further reduce and deemphasize the role of nuclear weapons in US national security strategy. This approach was, in part, motivated by the hope that other nuclear-armed states would follow the US lead. In this context, the United States was comfortable agreeing to the New START strategic nuclear force limits with Russia without securing parallel limits on theater nuclear forces aside from those already imposed by the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty (INF Treaty), which banned land-based intermediate-range ballistic and cruise missiles. After the ratification of New START, Russia rejected subsequent US efforts to negotiate further nuclear force reductions—including proposals to address Russia’s roughly ten-to-one advantage in theater nuclear forces.

A second consideration is central when assessing whether to accept Putin’s proposal: Russia’s circumvention of the New START central limits through the development of strategic nuclear weapons systems not covered by the treaty. Although developing and fielding these Russian systems are not violations of the New START treaty, they nonetheless circumvent its central limits and, more importantly, undermine its intended purpose. If the treaty’s limits were extended without addressing these new systems, they would pose an unconstrained threat to the United States.

The Russian Federation is developing two new strategic nuclear weapon systems that clearly circumvent New START: the Burevestnik intercontinental-range, nuclear-armed ground-launched cruise missile, and the Poseidon intercontinental-range, nuclear-armed torpedo (and the unique submarines from which it can be launched). The United States is within the range of both of these systems—and neither is covered by the treaty’s current provisions.

Article 5, Paragraph 2 of the treaty gives each party the right to “raise the question” of whether a “new type” of strategic offensive arm developed by the other should be subject to the treaty’s limits. The United States raised this question regarding these systems, and Russia (as is its right under the treaty) refused to discuss including them under the New START limits.

A Kinzhal ballistic missile on a MiG-31K at the Moscow Victory Day Parade in 2018. The Kinzhal can carry a nuclear warhead. (Kremlin)

Two other Russian systems raise significant questions about the impact and advisability of agreeing to Putin’s proposal to extend the New START limits for a year.

The first is the bomber-launched Kinzhal, a nuclear-capable air-launched ballistic missile. The treaty limits “heavy bombers” capable of launching “long-range nuclear air-launched cruise missiles” with a range over 600 kilometers. When air launched, the Kinzhal has a range much greater than 600 kilometers. Russia has demonstrated this capability by employing the conventionally armed variant from the Tu-22M3 bomber in the war in Ukraine. While the Tu-22M3 does not meet the 8,000-kilometer range criterion to be a “heavy bomber” under New START, it would be limited by New START if it were capable of launching a nuclear-armed cruise missile with a range of more than 600 kilometers. Because the Kinzhal is a nuclear-capable ballistic missile, not a cruise missile, it does not make the Tu-22M3 subject to the New START central limits. This raises a salient question: Should it be? The system effectively circumvents the treaty’s constraints.

The second Russian system is the nuclear-capable RS-26 Rubezh intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) and the related Oreshnik intermediate-range ballistic missile (IRBM). In 2012, the RS-26 Rubezh was flight tested to a range of more than 5,500 kilometers, making it a New START treaty-limited ICBM if deployed.5 It was subsequently tested at least three times at ranges well below 5,500 kilometers, raising the question of whether the missile’s true military purpose was as an intermediate-range system banned by the INF Treaty.6 However, after the United States withdrew from the INF Treaty due to Russia’s material breach of that agreement, Russia claimed that it had developed a new IRBM, the Oreshnik. Russian subsequently used it in combat in Ukraine (meaning that it might now be deployed). Russia claims this Oreshnik is not the RS-26 ICBM. But in a November 2024 briefing, Defense Department Deputy Press Secretary Sabrina Singh confirmed “that Russia did launch an experimental intermediate-range ballistic missile.” Singh added, “This IRBM was based on Russia’s RS-26 Rubezh intercontinental ballistic missile model.”7 The relevant question regarding New START limits extension is whether any deployed Oreshnik missiles should be counted as deployed ICBMs under the New START central limits. The answer depends on how similar the Oreshnik is to the RS-26 Rubezh, a determination that the US intelligence community must make. At a minimum, the RS-26 and the Oreshnik should serve as a cautionary tale for US decision-makers regarding Russia’s demonstrated willingness to circumvent arms control limits. 

What does the history of the New START treaty tell us regarding the advisability of agreeing to Putin’s proposal to extend the treaty’s central limits for another year? The bottom line is that New START was negotiated in—and for—a very different threat environment than the one the United States faces today and will likely face in the near future. Given what the United States knew then about the threats it was likely to face, the New START limits made sense. They provided a US nuclear force sufficient to support the US nuclear and national defense strategies with high confidence. But the nuclear threat environment has changed dramatically since 2010.

The nature of the two-peer nuclear strategy challenge

The report of the Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States opens its executive summary as follows.

“The United States faces a strategic challenge requiring urgent action. Given current threat trajectories, our nation will soon encounter a fundamentally different global setting than it has ever experienced: we will face a world where two nations possess nuclear arsenals on par with our own. In addition, the risk of conflict with these two nuclear peers is increasing. It is an existential challenge for which the United States is ill-prepared, unless its leaders make decisions now to adjust the U.S. strategic posture.”8

When New START was negotiated, there was no perceived prospect of the United States facing two peer nuclear adversaries. But that threat now is expected to become reality within a decade. The Defense Department’s 2022 China military power report to Congress concluded, “If China continues the pace of its nuclear expansion, it will likely field a stockpile of about 1,500 warheads by its 2035 timeline.”9 Analysts have not yet determined whether China intends to curtail its nuclear buildup once it reaches rough strategic parity or to continue it in pursuit of a usable strategic advantage, but both possibilities are realistic. 

This emerging two-nuclear-peer environment raises two fundamental questions that US national security decision-makers must address in the near term. First, what nuclear strategy will the United States adopt to manage this unprecedented challenge? Second, what nuclear forces will be required to credibly execute that strategy?

An unarmed Minuteman III Intercontinental Ballistic Missile during an operational test November 5, 2025, at Vandenberg Space Force Base, California. (US Space Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Draeke Layman)

Because extending the New START limits could impede the United States’ ability to implement its strategy to address this impending threat, answering these two questions is a prerequisite for making a responsible decision on such an extension.

What nuclear strategy will the United States adopt in the future, and what forces will be necessary to implement that strategy with high confidence? The answer is still uncertain; the US government has not announced which strategic path it will choose. However, there has been a notable continuity in US nuclear strategy since the Cuban Missile Crisis. For decades, US nuclear strategy has primarily focused on three core objectives, or “ends,” including

  • deter war and nuclear escalation in war;
  • assure allies regarding US extended nuclear deterrence commitments; and
  • achieve US objectives if nuclear deterrence fails.

As noted earlier, when New START was signed, it was possible to achieve these objectives against both Russia and China simultaneously with a force compliant with the New START central limits. Due to the increase in China’s nuclear forces, this will no longer be the case. If the US strategy for addressing two nuclear peers calls for achieving these same objectives against two peer adversaries simultaneously, US strategic nuclear forces will eventually need to grow significantly beyond the New START central limits. To avoid this required force growth, the United States would need to make a significant change in long-standing US deterrence and targeting strategies that have arguably prevented not just nuclear war, but also large-scale conventional conflict between nuclear-armed adversaries. Correlation does not necessarily indicate causation, but the least that can be said for these legacy strategies is that they have not failed in more than six decades. Is it likely that the United States will profoundly change a strategy with this track record to avoid needing to grow US nuclear forces in a relatively modest way?

If one accepts the need to increase US nuclear forces beyond the New START limits to address the two-nuclear-peer threat, the next question is when this increase must be implemented. The precise timing of the required force growth is a complex question that can be answered only with access to classified information about the threat’s growth, related targeting requirements, and US capacity to expand its forces over time. What is clear, however, is that it will take time for the United States to increase its strategic forces enough to address the two-nuclear-peer threat. Given the state of the extant US nuclear force, the nuclear modernization program, and the industrial base that supports both, the decisions needed to increase the force must be made in the near term.

The history of Russian Federation arms control violations

Russia’s track record of violating both legally binding and unilaterally declared arms control obligations is directly relevant to the advisability of accepting Putin’s proposal. Since Putin’s rise to the Russian presidency, the United States has formally found Russia in violation of nine separate arms control agreements or commitments.10 In no particular order, they are 

  • the INF treaty;
  • the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC);
  • the Biological Weapons Convention (BWC);
  • the Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE) treaty;
  • the Open Skies Treaty;
  • the Vienna Document;
  • Russia’s Presidential Nuclear Initiative;
  • Russia’s nuclear testing moratorium (and the unratified Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty); and
  • the New START treaty itself.

Russia seems to be on the verge of violating the Outer Space Treaty—if it has not already—by deploying a nuclear weapon in low-Earth orbit.

Under Putin, Russia’s track record across all these agreements and commitments is astoundingly poor. But, as the issue at hand is the proposed extension of the New START central limits, Russian violation of the New START treaty itself should be the first consideration.

Following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Putin suspended Russia’s compliance with the data notification and onsite inspection provisions of New START. This action is unambiguously a treaty violation. Russia’s suspension of compliance with these provisions directly undermines the United States’ ability to determine whether Russia remains in compliance with the central numerical limits that Moscow now proposes to extend. Notably, the Russian extension proposal does not include reactivation of the treaty’s data notification and onsite inspection provisions.

Obama administration officials discuss the New START Treaty at the White House, November 18, 2010. (White House photo by Pete Souza)

During Senate deliberations on ratification of New START, proponents of the treaty emphasized the importance of those provisions and the consequences for the United States if Washington lost access to them. Rose Gottemoeller, then the assistant secretary of state for arms control, verification, and compliance and Washington’s chief New START negotiator, said in remarks at the US Institute for Peace on July 26, 2010:

“The New START Treaty contains the mechanisms that will enable us to monitor and inspect Russia’s strategic nuclear forces. Our knowledge of Russian nuclear forces would substantially erode over time without ratification of the Treaty, increasing the risks of misunderstandings, mistrust, and worst-case analysis and policymaking.”11

Similarly, in an online issue brief, the Arms Control Association noted regarding the New START verification provisions: “Absent the new treaty’s extensive verification provisions . . . the United States will steadily lose clarity on the current status of the most lethal potential threat it faces: Russia’s strategic nuclear arsenal.”12

Assuming these New START advocates were right, the United States has been suffering these consequences since 2022.

Benefits and risks of accepting the Russian proposal

An assessment of the Russian proposal to extend the New START central limits for one year must weigh both the potential benefits and the significant strategic risks.

On the benefit side, an extension could forestall a near-term Russian upload of strategic nuclear delivery vehicles above 1,550 accountable warheads, if the Russians complied with their treaty commitments. This would prevent the Russians from increasing the number of New START accountable weapons with which they could target the United States.

Additionally, some US allies might be reassured that the last remaining quantitative limit on US and Russian nuclear forces would remain in place for another year. For those allies concerned about eroding arms control structures, even a temporary extension could serve as a political signal that Washington and Moscow are not allowing the last vestige of existing arms control to collapse unchallenged.

Delaying the start of any US upload or expansion of US strategic nuclear forces for another year could save resources in the near term and might avoid incentivizing China to accelerate its already significant nuclear buildup.

Finally, both Washington and Moscow could arrive at the spring 2026 Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty (NPT) Review Conference and claim to have preserved the New START central limits for another year. This might allow them to demonstrate a degree of commitment to the NPT’s Article VI and potentially blunt criticism from non-nuclear states.

However, there are risks to accepting Putin’s proposal—and those risks are substantial. If the United States maintains continuity in its nuclear strategy in a two-nuclear-peer environment, accepting a one-year extension of the New START central limits would delay the necessary increase in US strategic nuclear forces that the strategy will require. Such a delay will make future force-sizing adjustments more difficult to implement at scale.

Furthermore, an extension of the treaty’s central limits alone—without restoring the treaty’s verification protocol—would reward Russia for its violation of the treaty. It might also signal that the United States has diminished concerns about strict compliance, which implicitly incentivizes future Russian cheating.

Moreover, unless the central limits extension is modified to cover Russian strategic nuclear systems not currently covered by New START—such as Burevestnik, Poseidon, Kinzhal, and possibly Oreshnik—the proposal would allow Russia to continue expanding its strategic nuclear force. This possibility is especially troublesome, as the United States would remain constrained from doing so by New START limits. A one-year extension could also create a political dynamic in which recurring renewals become expected, narrowing future US options and complicating any eventual decision to cease extending the limits.

More broadly, an extension of the central limits would favor the Russian Federation, as it enables Moscow to focus its resources on the war in Ukraine and continuing its strategic programs that circumvent those limits, while the United States remains constrained. These US disadvantages would all come while China continues racing to numerical parity or beyond. Without a reinstatement of the treaty’s full complement of verification provisions, the US ability to verify continued Russian compliance will be constrained, and US insight into Russian behavior would degrade. These factors all increase the risk of further violations. The historical record under the Putin regime demonstrates that if Russia believes it can cheat without being detected (e.g., its violations of the CWC, BWC, INF, and the nuclear testing moratorium), it will.

US President Donald Trump greets General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party Xi Jinping before a bilateral meeting at the Gimhae International Airport terminal in Busan, South Korea, October 30, 2025. (White House photo by Daniel Torok)

Extending the New START central limits would send a troubling message to China regarding US capability and will to respond to Beijing’s large-scale nuclear buildup. This signal would likely undermine the prospects for bringing China to the arms control negotiating table, indicating to China that US forces will remain limited regardless of what China does. Key US allies will be profoundly unassured by the apparent US willingness to ignore Russia’s New START violation and circumvention, as well as China’s large-scale buildup. This risks strengthening the calls for nuclear proliferation in South Korea and Japan.

Finally, repeated annual extensions of the central limits will result in the number of effective prompt counterforce-capable missiles in the US strategic force dropping over the course of the planned modernization program. For example, while constrained by New START limits, the number of submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs) in the US strategic force will be reduced by four with the deployment of each new Columbia-class ballistic missile submarine (SSBN).13 Relief from the New START limits would allow the United States to increase the number of survivable SLBMs through 2035 despite the introduction of the Columbia class.14 Repeated extensions would also limit the expansion of the US strategic bomber force. Without those limits, the United States could unconvert thirty B-52 bombers, increasing the size of the force available to carry the new Long Range Stand Off (LRSO) cruise missile in the early 2030s. Such extensions would have the same effect on the US ability to upload the ICBM force to alleviate increasing target coverage issues in the two-peer environment. The New START central limits would prevent the United States from roughly doubling the number of warheads deployed on the ICBM force, something it could do if not constrained by the treaty. 

A path forward

After reviewing the pros and cons above, it is clearly in the US national interest to reject Putin’s proposal to extend New START limits. Instead, once New START expires, the United States should promptly begin implementing a measured expansion of its strategic nuclear forces to address the growing threat from Russia and China, while developing a new approach to US nuclear arms control policy that fully reflects the dramatic worsening of the international security environment since New START went into force.

The increase in US strategic nuclear forces should have near- and medium-term components. In the near term, the United States should unconvert SLBM launchers on Ohio-class SSBNs, increase the SLBM force, and prepare additional SLBM warheads for deployment. The United States should also begin uploading Minuteman III ICBMs. In the medium term, the United States should convert B-52 bombers and increase the planned number of next-generation air-launched cruise missiles it intends to field. It should also consider commensurate increases in future acquisitions of the SSBN force and planned number of future stealth bombers. These deployed force increases need to be accompanied by an increase in the production capacity of the US nuclear weapons complex and defense industrial base.

An appropriate new US arms control approach would require an agreement or agreements with both Russia and China. The United States should not agree to limit its nuclear forces with Russia alone in the context of China’s rapid and large-scale nuclear buildup. Rather, the US should put forward a new proposal for a trilateral agreement that enhances deterrence while managing the scope and scale of competition, placing the burden of rejecting a credible US proposal squarely on Moscow and Beijing.

The strategic force increase outlined above would not only enable the continuation of long-standing US nuclear strategy in the two-nuclear-peer environment but also generate meaningful negotiating leverage for the arms control strategy described above. The current US modernization program provides no such leverage. It is simply a rough replacement of the US New START force structure with more modern equipment. Unless the United States credibly demonstrates that it will create new dilemmas for—and additional strategic pressure on— Russian and Chinese strategy if those countries do not come to the negotiating table, neither will have an incentive to do so.

There is, of course, a less attractive alternative. It is possible that, despite the case made above, the president decides that a one-year extension is politically advantageous and does not pose insurmountable barriers to US force expansion downstream.

Should the president want to say yes, any acceptance should be conditioned—publicly and explicitly—on substantial safeguards, including two non-negotiable conditions and a publicly announced caveat.

First, Russia should agree to reinstate the full panoply of New START verification provisions as of February 6, 2026. Second, Russia should agree that the Burevestnik ground-launched cruise missile, the Poseidon intercontinental range torpedo (and its submarine launcher), and the Tu-23M3 bombers capable of launching the Kinzhal air-launched ballistic missile are, in fact, accountable under the New START central limits once deployed, and subject to data notification and onsite inspections. Moscow should also agree to discuss the applicability of New START limits to the Oreshnik IRBM.

The public caveat should be equally clear: during the one-year extension, the United States will prepare to increase its strategic nuclear forces to address the threat posed by China’s nuclear buildup. If China and Russia do not engage the United States in meaningful arms control negotiations during that period, the United States will not agree to any further extension of the New START limits.

Anything short of these conditions should be rejected.

President Donald Trump welcomes Russian President Vladimir Putin to Anchorage, Alaska, August 15, 2025 (DOD photo by Benjamin Applebaum)

Conclusion

The United States should not agree to extend the New START central limits for one year. Doing so rewards Russia’s violation of the treaty, constrains needed US strategic nuclear force modifications, and indicates to China that it can proceed with its large-scale nuclear buildup and its rejection of serious arms control discussions without consequence. New START extension would also, perhaps somewhat counterintuitively to some, significantly reduce the likelihood that the United States can negotiate an arms control agreement in the future that enhances US and allied security while constraining strategic competition.

It is time for the United States to make a definitive decision regarding its future nuclear strategy for the impending two-nuclear-peer threat environment and the forces required to implement that strategy with high confidence. Extending the New START limits for a year will only delay a decision that should have been made already.

About the author

Greg Weaver is the principal of Strategy to Plans LLC. Previously, he served as deputy director for strategic stability in the Joint Chiefs of Staff Directorate for Strategic Plans and Policy (J5), where he was the principal policy and strategy adviser to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on nuclear, space, cyber, missile defense, and arms control issues. Prior to joining the Joint Staff, Weaver was principal director for nuclear and missile defense policy in the Office of the Under Secretary of Defense for Policy, and the deputy director for policy and plans at US Strategic Command. (Strategy to Plans LLC has a contractual relationship with Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory and Los Alamos National Laboratory, which design and manufacture nuclear warheads.) 

Acknowledgements

The Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s work on nuclear and strategic forces has been made possible by support from its partners, including Los Alamos National Laboratory, Northrop Grumman Corporation (the prime contractor on the B-21 Raider bomber), the Norwegian Ministry of Defense, the Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, the US Department of Defense, the US Department of Energy, and the US Department of State, as well as general support to the Scowcroft Center. The partners are not responsible for the content of this report, and the Scowcroft Center maintains a strict intellectual independence policy.

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The Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security works to develop sustainable, nonpartisan strategies to address the most important security challenges facing the United States and the world.

1    The treaty limits each nation’s strategic nuclear forces to seven hundred deployed strategic delivery vehicles, eight hundred deployed and non-deployed strategic nuclear delivery vehicles, and fifteen hundred deployed strategic nuclear warheads. For the purposes of the treaty limits, deployed heavy bombers count as one deployed strategic nuclear warhead each, regardless of their actual weapons carriage capacity. “Putin Offers to Extend Last Nuclear Arms Pact with US,” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, September, 22, 2025, https://www.rferl.org/a/russia-nuclear-us-new-start-treaty/33537093.html.
2    “Putin Offers to Extend Last Nuclear Arms Pact with US.”
3    “Nuclear Posture Review Report,” US Department of Defense, April 2010, 3, https://csps.aerospace.org/sites/default/files/2021-08/Nuke%20Posture%20Review%20Apr10.pdf.
4    Ibid., IV. 
5    “RS-26 Rubezh,” Missile Threat, Center for Strategic and International Studies Missile Defense Project, last updated April 23, 2024, https://missilethreat.csis.org/missile/ss-x-31-rs-26-rubezh/.
6    Ibid.
7    “Deputy Pentagon Press Secretary Sabrina Singh Holds a Press Briefing,” US Department of Defense, November 21, 2024, https://www.war.gov/News/Transcripts/Transcript/Article/3975265/deputy-pentagon-press-secretary-sabrina-singh-holds-a-press-briefing/.
8    “America’s Strategic Posture: The Final Report of the Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States,” Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States, October, 2023, https://www.ida.org/-/media/feature/publications/a/am/americas-strategic-posture/strategic-posture-commission-report.ashx.
9    “Military and Security Developments Regarding the People’s Republic of China,” US Department of Defense, 2022, https://media.defense.gov/2022/Nov/29/2003122279/-1/-1/1/2022-MILITARY-AND-SECURITY-DEVELOPMENTS-INVOLVING-THE-PEOPLES-REPUBLIC-OF-CHINA.PDF.
10     “Adherence to and Compliance with Arms Control, Nonproliferation, and Disarmament Agreements and Commitments,” US Department of State, 2025, https://www.state.gov/adherence-to-and-compliance-with-arms-control-nonproliferation-and-disarmament-agreements-and-commitments/.
11    Rose Gotemoeller, “Remarks at the United States Institute for Peace,” US Department of State, July 26, 2010, https://2009-2017.state.gov/t/avc/rls/145126.htm.
12    “The Value of New START Verification,” Arms Control Association, July 21, 2010, https://www.armscontrol.org/issue-briefs/2010-07/value-new-start-verification.
13    Northrop Grumman, a sponsor of the Scowcroft Center’s work on nuclear forces, and Lockheed Martin, a sponsor of other Scowcroft Center work, produce SLBMs for the US Navy.
14    This would be accomplished by unconverting four SLBM launchers on each Ohio-class SSBN. Without such conversions, the size of the SLBM force will drop from 240 to 216 by 2036.

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Nuclear priorities for the Trump administration: A time to decide https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/nuclear-priorities-for-the-trump-administration-a-time-to-decide/ Mon, 22 Dec 2025 20:34:39 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=895197 This report offers recommendations to the Donald Trump administration for policy and investment decisions that will shape this new era of strategic competition in the United States’ favor.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The United States now confronts a two-nuclear-peer threat environment for the first time in its history, requiring immediate decisions to expand and adapt its nuclear posture beyond Cold War–era assumptions.
  • Existing US nuclear forces and policies, while fundamentally sound, are no longer sufficient to deter simultaneous strategic and regional nuclear challenges from China and Russia without additional deployed warheads and new theater capabilities.
  • Absent decisive action on force sizing, nonstrategic nuclear capabilities, missile defense, and nuclear enterprise reform, US deterrence credibility and escalation control will erode in an increasingly coordinated adversary environment.

The United States faces a deteriorating global security environment, adversary governments engaged in unprecedented levels of coordination, and disruptive military and dual-use technologies shaping the future of warfare. In this context, Washington must brace for a seismic shift in the strategic landscape. This report offers recommendations to the Donald Trump administration for policy and investment decisions that will shape this new era of strategic competition in the United States’ favor.

Strategic threats facing the United States and its allies

For the first time in its history, the United States will soon need to deter two adversaries with nuclear arsenals as large as its own nuclear forces. China is undergoing the largest nuclear breakout since the height of the Cold War, Russia maintains the largest and most diverse nuclear weapons stockpile in the world, and both seek to leverage their nuclear capabilities to reshape the international order to be more suited to their interests and governing systems.1 Beyond the great powers, North Korea’s nuclear arsenal and Iran’s nuclear ambitions continue to pose threats to US national security.

China’s rapid nuclear buildup is key to its ongoing efforts to displace the United States at the center of the international system. Through its nuclear arsenal, Beijing will aim to coerce and deter Washington from pursuing its strategic interests regionally and internationally.2 According to an authoritative US Department of Defense report, China will likely reach nuclear parity with the United States in deployable nuclear warheads by the mid-2030s.3 Simultaneously, as part of its anti-area/area denial (A2/AD) architecture, China is fielding dual-capable, theater-range weapons systems able to carry either conventional or nuclear payloads.4 These systems, which are embedded in Chinese military plans under an “opaque” employment doctrine, complicate US escalation calculus and would introduce capability asymmetries in a regional standoff.5

As China surges toward parity with the United States, Russia maintains the world’s largest nuclear arsenal. Russia is armed with strategic, nonstrategic, and so-called “exotic” capabilities, all of which remain central to Russia’s strategy of coercion, intimidation, and escalation in regional conflicts and great-power competition.6 The Strategic Posture Commission (SPC) notes that “Russian strategy and doctrine rely on strategic nuclear forces to deter a large-scale US nuclear response against the Russian homeland while Russia can escalate to limited nuclear war in theater if it chooses.”7. Russia actively uses the threat of nuclear escalation to undermine US efforts to support NATO allies and Ukraine, as well as to pursue strategic objectives in Europe.8

Russian President Vladimir Putin, Chinese President Xi Jinping, North Korean Supreme Leader Kim Jong Un, and Pakistani Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif before the Beijing military parade commemorating the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II (Kremlin).

Further complicating US strategic calculus are the nuclear capabilities or ambitions of rogue states. North Korea remains committed to increasing its nuclear warhead stockpile and making advancements in nuclear and missile technology to expand the lethality of its program and coerce the United States and South Korea on the Korean Peninsula and beyond.9 Iran also remains committed to pursuing a nuclear weapons program.10 While combined Israeli and US strikes against Iran’s nuclear infrastructure have significantly degraded the regime’s program, Iran has vowed to rebuild, meaning the threat persists.11

The two-nuclear-peer-plus threat environment and growing collaboration between US adversaries present unprecedented challenges. The United States must now prepare for the possibility of concurrent or cascading conflicts in theater and across different regions with multiple nuclear-armed adversaries. Questions related to deterring multiple peer nuclear powers simultaneously and preventing opportunistic aggression must shape US nuclear strategy, employment guidance, force sizing, and conventional operations.

Strategy

As the United States faces two nuclear-armed peer adversaries, threats from emerging technologies, and limited prospects for the future of arms control, Washington must update its nuclear posture and planning to account for the realities of the next decade and beyond. Importantly, it is essential to make decisions regarding these changes now so that the United States is prepared to implement them in future years.

Even in this security environment, the traditional US nuclear strategy remains fundamentally sound. However, the United States must pursue a force posture, backed with the necessary new capabilities, that addresses the evolving challenges.

Declaratory policy

As the 2018 Nuclear Posture Review (NPR) emphasized, “given the range of potential adversaries, their capabilities and strategic objectives,” the United States requires a flexible, tailored nuclear deterrent.12 With a full toolbox of conventional and nuclear options, US leaders will be better positioned to deter aggression, address crises, and, if necessary, manage escalation before and during conflict.

The United States should leave open a first-use option and, as the 2018 NPR states, “retain some ambiguity regarding the precise circumstances that might lead to a US nuclear response.”13 This would force an adversary to assume that US nuclear escalation is possible, even in response to a non-nuclear, strategic attack. Similarly, the United States should not adopt a sole purpose statement regarding the function of its nuclear weapons. Maintaining the current declaratory policy without adopting a no first-use policy or sole purpose statement supports US extended deterrence and increases allies’ assurance, as this ambiguity backstops conventional deterrence.

The United States should continue what is generally referred to as a counterforce targeting doctrine, which means not intentionally targeting population centers and deterring adversaries by holding at risk “key elements of their leadership, the security structure maintaining their leadership in power, their nuclear and conventional forces, and their war-supporting industry.”14 A counterforce targeting policy is advantageous to US objectives in several key ways. Counterforce targeting complicates adversaries’ planning and introduces doubt about their ability to achieve objectives through nuclear use. The possibility of a US strike on adversary nuclear weapons casts a shadow over an adversary’s initiation of limited nuclear use. Further, targeting adversary nuclear weapons deters by targeting what authoritarian leaders value most; these regimes prioritize regime survival and the instruments that ensure it, such as nuclear forces, over the well-being of their populations. Russian President Vladimir Putin has demonstrated in Ukraine that even massive casualty figures will not deter him from pursuing his political goals, a mindset likely shared by China and North Korea.15 By holding an adversary’s strategic forces at risk, the United States threatens the very tools on which these regimes rely for their survival, thereby reinforcing deterrence. Finally, counterforce targeting holds out the prospect of damage limitation. By holding the adversary’s leadership, strategic forces, and command and control (C2) at risk, the United States could limit the damage an adversary could inflict on the United States and its allies in a nuclear exchange.

Force sizing

With the New Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (New START) set to expire in 2026 and China’s nuclear breakout challenging the current US deterrence posture, the United States must rethink how it sizes, structures, and postures its nuclear forces to ensure credible deterrence at both the strategic and regional levels.

Strategic forces

As the expiration of the New START treaty approaches in February, the administration must assess the future of the US nuclear force, ensuring it can maintain a credible second-strike capability against two nuclear peers, while supporting employment guidance. To do so, the administration must decide on how many strategic weapons it will need, determine the adequacy of the current triad modernization effort, evaluate upload capacity, and assess nuclear command, control, and communication (NC3) resilience.16

In addressing the two-nuclear-peer environment, the Trump administration should codify the SPC’s conclusion that the “nuclear force constructs can no longer assume that the nuclear forces necessary to deter or counter the Russian nuclear threat will be sufficient to deter or counter the Chinese nuclear threat simultaneously” and that, therefore, the program of record is “necessary but not sufficient.”17 The notion of “necessary but not sufficient” outlined by the SPC saw traction toward the end of the Joe Biden administration with Pranay Vaddi, senior director for arms control at the National Security Council (NSC), stating, “Absent a change in the trajectory of adversary arsenals, we may reach a point in the comings years where an increase from current deployed numbers is required.”18 With the growing recognition that the 1,550 treaty-accountable deployed strategic nuclear warheads will no longer be a viable force posture, senior leaders within the administration must determine how many additional deployed strategic warheads will be needed. This determination can only be calculated in a classified setting and is beyond the scope of this report.

 An unarmed Minuteman III Intercontinental Ballistic Missile launches during an operational test on Nov. 5, 2025, at Vandenberg Space Force Base, California (US Space Force photo by Staff Sgt. Joshua LeRoi). 

To increase deployed strategic nuclear warheads, the administration should adopt a two-track approach. The long-term strategy should be prioritizing the full execution of the nuclear modernization program of record (POR). This effort will require continued, disciplined investment in triad modernization, including delivery systems, NC3, and supporting infrastructure. As this long-term strategy is being executed, it is vital that a balanced nuclear triad, a key underpinning of US nuclear force strength and deterrence, is maintained. Imbalance within the triad—due to program costs, modernization pressures, and emerging threats—risks overreliance on one leg or undermining another. These imbalances could create new vulnerabilities for the force, encourage adversary preemption, and weaken strategic stability.19

In the near term, to supplement the current force and address capability gaps, the United States should upload additional warheads onto extant delivery systems as soon as New START expires. The existing Minuteman III intercontinental ballistic missile force can accommodate additional warheads from the existing stockpile on multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles (MIRVs).20 Additionally, the SPC recommends the Air Force and Navy “develop plans and procedures to ‘re-convert’ [submarine-launched ballistic missile] launchers and B-52 bombers that were rendered incapable of launching a nuclear weapon under New START.”21 This would offer a short-term remedy to an increasingly insufficient force. The ability to upload additional warheads takes weeks to years, depending on the launch vehicle.22 Measures should be taken now to overcome some of the bottlenecks in this process (e.g., the limited number of cranes certified to hoist nuclear weapons)

Nonstrategic forces

The United States faces a growing asymmetry in nonstrategic, theater nuclear forces compared to Russia and China. The insufficient arsenal of nonstrategic weapons available limits the president and military leaders’ options in addressing escalation, undermining US regional deterrence efforts. The administration must decide how it intends to address these regional asymmetries through additional capability deployment, nuclear sharing, and changes to previous policy.

The United States’ nonstrategic force principally includes dual-capable aircraft (DCA) armed with B61-12 gravity bombs stationed in Europe as part of NATO nuclear sharing, with no presence in the Indo-Pacific. The United States also fields a handful of low-yield W-76-02 warheads on its submarine-launched ballistic missiles; while a prudent stopgap measure, these weapons have limitations that make them unattractive as a sole option for addressing the risk of limited nuclear use. The current nonstrategic nuclear capabilities of the United States are lacking in several factors: survivability, penetration of adversary defenses, target coverage, and presence in theater.23 The SPC recommended that deployed theater nuclear delivery systems have some or all of the following attributes.

  • “forward-deployed or deployable in the European and Asia-Pacific theaters;
  • survivable against preemptive attack without force generation day-to-day;
  • a range of explosive yield options, including low yield;
  • capable of penetrating advanced [integrated air and missile defenses] with high confidence;
  • and operationally relevant weapon delivery timelines (promptness).”24

These attributes are similarly recommended in a study conducted by the Center for Global Security Research (CGSR).25

To address the capability gap in theater, the administration should continue prioritizing the nuclear-armed submarine-launched cruise missile (SLCM-N), which was discontinued by the Biden administration but funded by Congress as part of the program of record. Additionally, the administration should consider a program to deploy nuclear-armed ground-launched cruise missiles (GLCM-Ns) on road-mobile launchers and nuclear-armed ground-launched ballistic missiles (GLBM-Ns) with alternative reentry vehicles.26 Both capabilities would be effective in the European and Indo-Pacific theaters.27 The administration could also consider pursuing a stand-off capability by redesigning a joint air-to-surface standoff missile (JASSM) around a nuclear payload, creating an in-theater nonstrategic triad.

The full deployment of ground-based nuclear systems and nuclear-armed JASSMs is unlikely due to budget constraints, trade-offs between nuclear and conventional force investments, and the National Nuclear Security Administration’s (NNSA) backlog. As a result, at a minimum, the administration should pursue the development of the SLCM-N to ensure the United States has an in-theater capability that meets the requirements outlined in the SPC.

Ohio-class ballistic-missile submarine USS Maine (SSBN 741) transits the Puget Sound during routine operations, March 18, 2025 (US Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Ryan Riley)

Arms control and nonproliferation post-New START

The security environment has greatly changed since the New START arms control treaty was signed in 2010, and, as noted above, the United States will need to expand the size of its strategic-deployed nuclear arsenal. This means that the United States cannot extend the quantitative arms limits specified in New START.

Instead, the United States should identify and pursue new trilateral arms control agreements with both China and Russia, consistent with America’s new deterrence requirements. The Atlantic Council has outlined a number of frameworks for trilateral arms control in a previous study.28 It is unlikely that these efforts will succeed as China is unwilling to engage in good faith in arms control negotiations. Still, there are benefits to the United States continuing to make a good faith effort to control the strategic nuclear arms competition.

Absent a verifiable trilateral framework that includes China, the era of numerically binding arms control treaties is likely over for the foreseeable future. Still, Washington can and should pursue risk reduction measures, such as missile launch notifications, to reduce nuclear dangers.

Golden Dome for America

The administration laid out an audacious plan in the “Iron Dome for America” (later dubbed the “Golden Dome”) executive order (EO), but this policy requires significant further definition. To operationalize this initiative, the administration must define the core objective of the Golden Dome and, from there, establish an architectural concept and identify the near- and long-term research and engineering priorities necessary to achieve this vision.

Policy framework and architecture

The EO calls for “deploying and maintaining a next-generation missile defense shield.”29 Of particular significance, the EO states “the architecture shall include, at a minimum, plans for:

  • “Defense of the United States against ballistic, hypersonic, advanced cruise missiles, and other next-generation aerial attacks from peer, near-peer, and rogue adversaries;
  • Acceleration of the deployment of the Hypersonic and Ballistic Tracking Space Sensor layer;
  • Development and deployment of proliferated space-based interceptors capable of boost-phase intercept.”30

In total, these objectives represent a major departure from existing US homeland missile defense (HMD) precedent. Implementing them would require not only the fielding of new capabilities but, in several cases, fundamental advances in research, development, and operational concepts.

The foundation of US missile defense policy remains the 1999 National Missile Defense Act, which directed the deployment of a system to defend the United States against limited ballistic missile attacks. Since then, successive administrations have built on this mandate, maintaining policies centered on safeguarding the homeland against nuclear-armed, long-range ballistic missiles from regional adversaries.31 Current HMD policy states that the United States “will defend against air- and sea-launched cruise missile threats from any country but will only pursue defenses against ballistic missiles launched by rogue states.”32 Today, the US HMD architecture relies on forty-four ground-based interceptors (GBIs), with an additional twenty next-generation interceptors (NGIs) planned beginning in 2028.33 However, the EO’s directives indicate a significant shift in both policy and capability. Defending the homeland against the full spectrum of advanced missile threats, including hypersonic glide vehicles and long-range cruise missiles launched by peer adversaries, would represent a fundamental expansion of mission scope.

THAAD battery supports defense operations during 2019 maintenance of NATO’s Aegis Ashore Ballistic Missile Defense System (AABMDS) in Romania (Photo by US Navy Lt. Amy Forsythe, Public Affairs Officer, Naval Support Facility Deveselu) 

The recently passed “One, Big, Beautiful, Bill” allocates approximately $25 billion toward developing an integrated air and missile defense system.34While this funding provides a solid foundation to initiate the effort, achieving the EO’s ambitious goals will require sustained, multiyear investment that extends well beyond a single administration. This raises two critical questions. First, near-term execution: what steps can be taken in the immediate future to demonstrate tangible progress toward the president’s vision? Second, long-term viability: how can the administration institutionalize this effort to ensure its continuity and eventual success across future administrations?

The administration should pursue a layered, preferential defense architecture with a space-based element. Such a system would allow the United States to rapidly enhance its HMD using existing technologies, providing credible protection against limited, coercive missile attacks by peer or near-peer adversaries, as well as reinforce extended deterrence commitments.35

This near-term improvement could be achieved by augmenting the current GBIs and future NGIs with an additional defensive layer composed of the Navy’s Aegis Ashore systems, armed with SM-3 Block IIA interceptors, and the Army’s ground-mobile Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) batteries.36 Integrating these systems into a cohesive HMD network would create additional engagement zones, improve shot opportunities, and strengthen resilience against complex missile threats.

While this layered defense strategy would mitigate immediate vulnerabilities and demonstrate measurable progress toward the EO’s objectives, realizing the full vision—including the deployment of proliferated space-based interceptors and the acceleration of the Hypersonic and Ballistic Tracking Space Sensor layer—will require sustained political and financial commitment. Continued progress will hinge on securing congressional buy-in to ensure consistent funding, program stability, and long-term strategic momentum across future administrations.

Nuclear enterprise

With the proposed changes to policy and capability, significant demand will be placed on the nuclear enterprise. As then NNSA Administrator Jill Hruby stated, “NNSA is being asked to do more than at any time since the Manhattan Project.”37 Meeting the Departments of Defense and Energy’s “plans to operate, sustain, and modernize current nuclear forces and purchase new forces,” would cost $946 billion over the 2025–2034 period.38 To achieve the necessary increase in nuclear warheads and delivery systems, the administration must reform the broader nuclear enterprise. This means addressing not only the infrastructure and production capacity, but also the workforce.

To meet the surge in demand generated by the ongoing nuclear modernization effort, NNSA must establish a Rapid Response Office (RRO) as outlined by the FY2026 National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA).39 This office, endowed with delegated authorities and flexible funding, would be empowered to rapidly design, prototype, and produce key components in response to emerging requirements. Such a capability directly supports the SPC recommendation that NNSA “meet the capability and schedule requirements of the current nuclear modernization program of record and the requirements of force posture modifications,” while maintaining the agility to “flex to respond to emerging requirements in a timely fashion.”40

At present, excessive review layers, rigid oversight procedures, and limited incentives for innovation have created an environment that is risk averse and process driven rather than mission driven.41 An RRO would enable the enterprise to operate under delegated acquisition authority, streamlined contracting lanes, and incentive structures that reward speed, innovation, and cost control.

However, even a more agile organization cannot succeed without a modern, resilient infrastructure. Decades of underinvestment have left the NNSA complex brittle, outdated, and, in many cases, dependent on single points of failure. Nearly 60 percent of NNSA’s facilities are more than forty years old, many dating back to the Manhattan Project era.42 As NNSA moves to modernize critical capabilities—such as plutonium pit production, uranium processing, high-explosive manufacturing, and non-nuclear component production—these efforts have been undermined by cost and schedule overruns. As of August 2023, the agency’s eighteen major construction projects had a combined cost overrun of roughly $2.1 billion and cumulative schedule delays approaching ten years.43 The Uranium Processing Facility alone faces potential additional delays of up to six years and a cost increase of approximately $3.8 billion.44

While the SPC appropriately calls for Congress to “fund the full range of NNSA’s recapitalization efforts,” the scale and pace of these overruns make the current approach unsustainable.45 To stabilize the modernization program and maintain capability continuity, NNSA should prioritize establishing redundant production capacity for plutonium pits and uranium components, reducing dependence on any single site and ensuring resilience in the event of technical or operational disruptions. In parallel, NNSA should establish a model similar to the Navy’s Working Capital Fund (NWCF) or Military Construction (MILCON) “no year” funds to mitigate year-to-year appropriation volatility. The NWCF “provides stabilized pricing to customers and acts as a shock-absorber to fluctuations in market prices during the year of execution.”46 MILCON “no year” funds “represent budget authority available for obligation indefinitely until expended, regardless of fiscal year.”47 Adopting these models for NNSA would allow for continuous and flexible funding of long-term recapitalization projects, reducing costly stop-start inefficiencies that currently plague major construction programs.48

The final critical challenge to meeting enterprise demand is workforce retention and generational turnover. The Enhanced Mission Deliverer System Initiative (EMDI) report found that the nuclear security enterprise faces “tremendous workforce attraction and retention issues,” with roughly 40 percent of the NNSA workforce having less than five years of experience within the enterprise.49 Compounding this challenge, “more than one-third of the nuclear security workforce will be eligible for retirement within the next five years,” risking the loss of decades of institutional knowledge and technical expertise.50

To mitigate these workforce gaps, the administration should act on the SPC’s recommendation to “establish and increase the technical education and vocational training programs required to create the nation’s necessary skilled-trades workforce for the nuclear enterprise.”51 This should include expanding partnerships between NNSA, the Department of Education, and industry to fund specialized STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) pipelines, apprenticeships, and advanced degrees in nuclear engineering, materials science, and manufacturing. Strengthening the talent pipeline and institutionalizing mentorship programs will be essential to maintaining design, production, and sustainment capabilities across the next generation of the nuclear security enterprise.

Transporter erector is raised during an annual proofload test at Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota, April 2, 2019 (US Air Force photo by Senior Airman Ashley Boster).

Strategy implementation

US nuclear strategy will only be as successful as its implementation plan. The administration must focus on two key areas of implementation: senior-leader buy-in and implementation across the combatant commands.

Sole authority for nuclear use remains with the president of the United States. While it might be impractical to involve the president personally in exercises and wargames, it is essential that senior-level defense and political leaders participate in nuclear exercises at a significantly higher cadence than they have in the past.

US Strategic Command continues to implement US nuclear strategy in operational plans but, as the salience of theater nuclear forces and the potential for limited nuclear use increase, it is more important than ever that US European Command, US Indo-Pacific Command (and its sub-unified commands), and others integrate the potential for nuclear use and the management of escalation below and across the nuclear use threshold into their operational plans and exercises. The services must also take escalation management and operations in a post-nuclear-detonation environment more seriously in their development of capabilities; tactics, techniques, and procedures; and professional military education.

Conclusion

The United States stands at a critical inflection point. For the first time in history, it must simultaneously deter two peer nuclear adversaries. The post–Cold War assumptions that guided past force planning are no longer sufficient, and senior defense leaders must reorient nuclear and missile defense policies at both the strategic and theater levels to meet today’s complex threat environment. Key decisions must be made regarding a post-New START force structure, including addressing widening capability gaps in nonstrategic forces. At the same time, policy and funding guidance is required to operationalize the Golden Dome executive order, balancing near-term implementation with long-term architectural objectives. Finally, the United States must ensure that the nuclear enterprise possesses the infrastructure, production capacity, and skilled workforce necessary to execute the nation’s nuclear strategy, which requires sustained and substantial investment in modernization, resilience, and workforce development. For eighty years, the United States has sustained the rules-based international order, helping to produce a level of stability and international collaboration without historical precedent. At the crux of this stability is a credible and extended US nuclear deterrent, which has constrained revisionist powers and upheld the integrity of global norms. A resilient nuclear posture, capable of deterring two nuclear peers simultaneously, remains the most effective safeguard against great-power war and a prerequisite for sustaining US global leadership.

About the authors

Matthew Kroenig is vice president and senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security. Kroenig was appointed by the US Congress as a commissioner on the Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States. He previously served in the Department of Defense and the intelligence community. Kroenig is also a tenured professor of government and foreign service at Georgetown University. He holds an MA and PhD in political science from the University of California at Berkeley.

Jonathan Rosenstein is a program assistant in the Forward Defense program of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, where he supports work on nuclear strategy and space security. Rosenstein is a recent graduate of the George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs, where he earned his master’s degree in security policy studies with a concentration in US national security, and he holds a bachelor’s degree from Tulane University.

Acknowledgements

The authors wish to acknowledge Dr. Robert Soofer for his inputs to this paper, all of which were completed before his return to the US government in 2025. They wish to acknowledge Mark Massa and Alyxandra Marine for their assistance in reviewing and editing this paper.

The Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security conducts work on nuclear and strategic forces, which is supported by donors including the Carnegie Corporation of New York, Lockheed Martin Corporation, Los Alamos National Laboratory, Northrop Grumman Corporation, RTX Corporation, the Smith Richardson Foundation, the United States Department of Defense, and the United States Department of State, as well as through general support to the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

Explore the programs

Forward Defense leads the Atlantic Council’s US and global defense programming, developing actionable recommendations for the United States and its allies and partners to compete, innovate, and navigate the rapidly evolving character of warfare. Through its work on US defense policy and force design, the military applications of advanced technology, space security, strategic deterrence, and defense industrial revitalization, it informs the strategies, policies, and capabilities that the United States will need to deter, and, if necessary, prevail in major-power conflict.

The Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security works to develop sustainable, nonpartisan strategies to address the most important security challenges facing the United States and the world.

1    Madelyn R. Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture: The Final Report of the Congressional Commission on the Strategic Posture of the United States,” Institute for Defense Analyses, October 2023, 11, https://www.ida.org/research-and-publications/publications/all/a/am/americas-strategic-posture.
2    John Lee and Lavina Lee, “Implications of Chinese Nuclear Weapons Modernization for the United States and Regional Allies,” Hudson Institute, July 30, 2025, https://www.hudson.org/defense-strategy/implications-chinese-nuclear-weapons-modernization-united-states-regional-allies-john-lee.
3    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” 12.
4    Chris Andrews and Justin Anderson, “China’s Theater-Range, Dual-Capable Delivery Systems: Integrated Deterrence and Risk Reduction Approaches to Counter a Growing Threat,” Defense Threat Reduction Agency, August 2024, https://digitalcommons.ndu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1001&context=wmdcenter-research.
5    Ibid., 6.
6    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” 17.
7    Ibid., 92
8    Ibid., 39.
9    Mary Beth D. Nikitin, “North Korea’s Nuclear Weapons and Missile Programs,” Congressional Research Service, May 23, 2025, https://www.congress.gov/crs_external_products/IF/PDF/IF10472/IF10472.39.pdf; Markus Garlauskas, “Toplines: The United States and Its Allies Must Be Ready to Deter a Two-Front War and Nuclear Attacks in East Asia,” Atlantic Council, February 7, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/toplines-the-united-states-and-its-allies-must-be-ready-to-deter-a-two-front-war-and-nuclear-attacks-in-east-asia/.
10    “Iran’s President Vows to Rebuild Nuclear Facilities with ‘Greater Strength,’” Times of Israel, November 2, 2025, https://www.timesofisrael.com/irans-president-vows-to-rebuild-nuclear-facilities-with-greater-strength.
11    Ibid.
12    “Nuclear Posture Review,” US Department of Defense, February 2018, 22, https://media.defense.gov/2020/May/18/2002302062/-1/-1/1/2018-NUCLEAR-POSTURE-REVIEW-FINAL-REPORT.PDF.
13    Ibid.
14    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” 30.
15    Alexandra Vacroux, “Does Vladimir Putin Care What the War Has Cost Him?” Harvard University Davis Center, May 5, 2022, https://daviscenter.fas.harvard.edu/insights/does-vladimir-putin-care-what-war-has-cost-him; Mark F. Cancian, Matthew F. Cancian, and Eric Heginbotham, “Wargaming Nuclear Deterrence and Its Failures in a U.S.-China Conflict over Taiwan,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, December 13, 2024, https://www.csis.org/analysis/confronting-armageddon; John J. Hamre, et al., “North Korea Policy & Extended Deterrence,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, January 19, 2023, https://features.csis.org/north-korea-extended-deterrence/.
16    Peter L. Hays and Sarah Mineiro, “Modernizing Space-Based Nuclear Command, Control, and Communications,” Atlantic Council, July 15, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/modernizing-space-based-nuclear-command-control-and-communications/.
17    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” 31.
18    Pranay Vaddi, “Adapting the U.S. Approach to Arms Control and Nonproliferation to a New Era,” Arms Control Association, June 7, 2024, https://www.armscontrol.org/2024AnnualMeeting/Pranay-Vaddi-remarks.
19    Paul Amato, “In Defense of the US Maintaining a Balanced Nuclear Triad,” Atlantic Council, September 29, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/in-defense-of-the-us-maintaining-a-balanced-nuclear-triad.
20    “Statement of Anthony J. Cotton,” Senate Committee on Armed Services, February 29, 2024, https://www.armed-services.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/cotton_statement.pdf.
21    Joseph Trevithick, “Return to ICBMS Armed with Multiple Warheads Suggested by Stratcom Boss,” War Zone, February 29, 2024, https://www.twz.com/nuclear/return-to-icbms-armed-with-multiple-warheads-suggested-by-stratcom-boss.
22    David J. Trachtenberg, “Assessing the 2022 Nuclear Posture Review,” National Institute for Public Policy, December 19, 2022, https://www.nipp.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/Proceedings-December-2022.pdf.
23    For more information see: Greg Weaver, “The Imperative of Augmenting US Theater Nuclear Forces,”Atlantic Council, April 11, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/the-imperative-of-augmenting-us-theater-nuclear-forces/.
24    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” 49.
25    Kristine Wong, ed., “China’s Emergence as a Second Nuclear Peer: Implications for U.S. Nuclear Deterrence Strategy,” Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, Spring 2023, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/sites/cgsr/files/2024-08/CGSR_Two_Peer_230314.pdf.
26    Weaver, “The Imperative of Augmenting US Theater Nuclear Forces.”
27    Ibid.
28    Kroenig and Massa, “Toward trilateral arms control: Options for bringing China into the fold,” Atlantic Council, February 4, 2021, www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/toward-trilateral-arms-control-options-for-bringing-china-into-the-fold/.
29    “The Iron Dome for America: Executive Order 14186,” Executive Office of the President, February 3, 2025, https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2025/02/03/2025-02182/the-iron-dome-for-america.
30    Ibid.
31    Rob Soofer, “‘First, We Will Defend the Homeland’: The Case for Homeland Missile Defense,” Atlantic Council, January 4, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/first-we-will-defend-the-homeland-the-case-for-homeland-missile-defense.
32    Ibid.
33    Ibid.
34    “HASC/SASC Reconciliation Overview,” US House Armed Services Committee and US Senate Committee on Armed Services, last visited December 12, 2025, https://armedservices.house.gov/uploadedfiles/hasc_reconciliation_overview.pdf.
35    For more reading on this subject, see: Soofer, “‘First, We Will Defend the Homeland.’”
36    Ibid.
37    Anya L. Fink, “The U.S. Nuclear Security Enterprise: Background and Possible Issues for Congress,” Congressional Research Service, August 15, 2025, https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R48194.
38    “Projected Costs of U.S. Nuclear Forces, 2025 to 2034,” Congressional Budget Office, April 2025, https://www.cbo.gov/system/files/2025-04/61224-NuclearForces.pdf.
39    National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2026, S. 2296 (2025), 1754, https://www.congress.gov/119/bills/s2296/BILLS-119s2296es.pdf.
40    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” ix.
41    “National Nuclear Security Administration: Fully Incorporating Leading Practices for Agency Reform Would Benefit Enhanced Mission Delivery Initiative,” Government Accountability Office, February 2025, https://www.gao.gov/assets/gao-25-106675.pdf.
42    “NNSA Passes Major Milestone in Dispositioning Manhattan Project-Era Facilities,” National Nuclear Security Administration, April 26, 2021, https://www.energy.gov/nnsa/articles/nnsa-passes-major-milestone-dispositioning-manhattan-project-era-facilities.
43    “National Nuclear Security Administration.”
44    Ibid.
45    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” ix.
46    “Department of the Navy Fiscal Year (FY) 2026 President’s Budget: Justification of Estimates,” Department of the Navy, June 2025, https://www.secnav.navy.mil/fmc/fmb/Documents/26pres/NWCF_Book.pdf.
47    Drew C. Aherne, “Appropriations Duration of Availability: One-Year, Multi-Year, and No-Year Funds,” Congressional Research Service, June 7, 2024, https://www.congress.gov/crs_external_products/R/PDF/R48087/R48087.1.pdf.
48    “National Nuclear Security Administration.”
49    Ibid
50    “Leadership Development Program Proves Highly Successful Recruiting and Retention Tool,” National Nuclear Security Administration, July 21, 2022, https://www.energy.gov/nnsa/articles/leadership-development-program-proves-highly-successful-recruiting-and-retention-tool.
51    Creedon, et al., “America’s Strategic Posture,” ix.

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Enhancing land military mobility in Europe: Advocating a pragmatic approach https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/enhancing-land-military-mobility-in-europe-advocating-a-pragmatic-approach/ Fri, 19 Dec 2025 18:25:54 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=894533 Solving the challenges of military mobility in Europe requires a whole-of-government and whole-of-society perspective. Given the geopolitical climate, Europe should move quickly on this most pressing issues for the North Atlantic Alliance.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Europe’s military mobility infrastructure is showing the effects of 30 years of underinvestment since the Cold War, with bridge operations, rail transport, and air defense unprepared for moving NATO troops to the front lines.
  • The ideal of a “military Schengen zone” remains far off, with border crossings requiring up to a month’s notice and non-standardized rail systems forcing engine changes at every border.
  • The urgency of the situation requires focusing on enacting prompt, rapid solutions—and the EU has a key role to play.

Table of contents

Foreword

It is a great honor to write the foreword to this Atlantic Council report, Enhancing land military mobility in Europe: Advocating a pragmatic approach. This new report comes at a highly opportune moment. Against the backdrop of Russia’s war in Ukraine, the 2025 NATO summit at The Hague endorsed the Alliance goal of spending “up to 1.5% of GDP annually to inter alia protect our critical infrastructure, defend our networks, ensure our civil preparedness and resilience, unleash innovation, and strengthen our defense industrial base.” This seminal paper on military mobility opens a broader transatlantic dialogue on the efficacy of current European military mobility plans and actions, and highlights where additional fiscal resources can be wisely spent.

This is a subject of great interest to the Atlantic Council. Under the leadership of General Curtis M. Scaparrotti, a retired US Army general and former NATO supreme allied commander, and Ambassador Colleen Bell, former US ambassador to Hungary and a current member of the Atlantic Council board of directors, the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security established a task force on the subject six years ago to “assess the adequacy of efforts to improve military mobility in Europe.” I had the privilege to direct that study for the Scowcroft Center.

That task force’s collective efforts resulted in the 2020 report, Moving Out: A Comprehensive Assessment of European Military Mobility. The report generated important politico-military discussions on the issue across the capitals of Europe, helping to shape a broader debate over the need for Alliance improvements not only in capability and capacity, but also in logistics and sustainment, especially for northern and central Europe. The report also successfully encouraged the European Union (EU) to provide critical financial resources for mobility in its 2021–2027 multiannual financial framework. However, written as it was some five years ago, it came two years before Russia’s full-scale military aggression against Ukraine in February 2022. Consequently, a new study on the subject is timely and beneficial.

European interest has reignited on issues of military mobility, logistics, and sustainment, especially for NATO’s own southern flank. In light of NATO’s new force model and 360-degree strategy of multidomain collective defense, the 2024 NATO summit communiqué placed a heightened emphasis on the “threats, challenges and opportunities in the South,” to include “strengthening our ability to move, reinforce, supply and sustain our forces to respond to threats across the Alliance, including through effective and resilient logistics and the development of mobility corridors.” As the Atlantic Council’s task force on a security strategy for the Black Sea visited the region two years ago to help prepare its report, A Security Strategy for the Black Sea, Romanians expressed keen interest in additional study and analyses on military mobility within the broader context of the ongoing war in Ukraine, especially for its impact on NATO’s southern flank. This report places heightened emphasis on the land mobility challenges affecting that flank.

With publication of Enhancing land military mobility in Europe: Advocating a pragmatic approach, the Atlantic Council once again is playing a leadership role in advocating for military mobility modernization, this time within the context of NATO’s broader defense perimeter and rear areas. This report should be of great assistance to all NATO countries and EU member states, providing them with a foundation from which to reinvigorate their own national military mobility programs on what is increasingly acknowledged to be a vital Alliance-wide deterrence and defense planning issue. The report correctly places special attention upon Germany as a “nexus of military mobility,” and Berlin receives high priority as a critical enabler within a broader Alliance defense-planning context.

The report has much to convey to the Alliance on the technical, operational, and burden-sharing issues pertinent to strengthening collective defense across the continent. In advocating a pragmatic approach to enhancing European military mobility, the report focuses on the enhancement of existing capabilities including existing dual-use infrastructure, the mobilization of civilian assets, cyberdefense, infrastructure resilience, and looking at military mobility from the lens of a “whole-of-government, whole-of-society task.” This emphasis comports with the Atlantic Council’s 2020 report and is the right place to start. It correctly observes that land mobility capabilities have suffered from thirty years of underinvestment, making them poor cousins of European armies’ capabilities, and therefore emphasizes improving and standardizing the road and railway network in Europe including the nine trans-European transport network (TEN-T) corridors. The report also recommends making major upgrades to European rail infrastructure, electrification, and interoperable signaling systems.

The report goes further than the Council’s 2020 effort in several respects. This 2025 report focuses on European-wide improvements to both the organization of and the planning for military mobility. The report recommends that military mobility be institutionalized across the Alliance, to fully involve NATO stakeholders, from subject matter experts like the Joint Support Enabling Command for mobility on up to the International Military Staff as strategic military adviser, in the definition of priority areas of interest “to reinforce the overall coherence of the network.” The report also recommends the institutionalization of “a seminar on infrastructure linked to military mobility, jointly organized by the EUMS [EU Military Staff] and NATO, to inform participants of existing funding mechanisms and the need for nations to be involved.” These recommendations leverage and improve upon the general recommendations of the 2020 report that NATO and the EU create an institutionalized political dialogue to improve alliance information sharing.

Finally, this report’s seventeen specific technical recommendations all deserve serious consideration by national decision-makers. The report’s excellent discussion of continent-wide gaps in military mobility, and air defense mobility in particular, should be of keen interest to the Alliance given lessons learned in these areas from the Russia-Ukraine and Israel-Iran wars. Also of great interest should be the report’s comparison of routes taken by major units during World War II with the TEN-T road network of today and its analyses of the deeper penetration of West-East corridors in the North than in the South. As the geography of southern Europe is much more mountainous and complex, there is an ongoing need to address these factors and rebalance military mobility southward to seek better connectivity toward the Mediterranean.

Significantly, the report’s analysis on European-wide logistics issues of concern should be of great interest to national planners and decision-makers. The report cogently addresses the commercial ownership imbalance at several key European ports involving non-European powers—including China COSCO shipping—and the need to address this imbalance. It does so by encouraging a deeper integration of logistics requirements across northern and southern Europe to enable a more balanced combat logistics flow coming out of Europe’s twenty-nine ports, with an emphasis on the TEN-T core ports, including those on the Atlantic coast. In addition, the report encourages regular training events and educational seminars on military mobility, increased Action Plan on Military Mobility funding for large-scale projects, the development of more flexible European investment rules, transportation reserves, and national implementation of whole-of-government approaches to mitigating military mobility shortfalls. If acted upon, the report’s recommendations would offer greater burden-sharing opportunities for NATO military forces and help expedite Alliance force projection during times of crisis.

There continue to be several areas where longer-term European military mobility improvements could be made that should be the focus of future NATO and EU research efforts. These include better defining transatlantic airlift and sealift requirements within the NATO force model, expanding in-theater airlift capacity, improving planning for refugee operations, leveraging cold and dispersed basing, and evaluating the efficacy of enhanced public-private partnerships. These stand as additional opportunities for more vigorous Alliance-wide study and analyses at an even deeper level of integration.

Enhancing land military mobility in Europe: Advocating a pragmatic approach demonstrates how important it is that the Alliance stay vigilant and current on the dynamic issue of military mobility. The future is far brighter on the topic of NATO military mobility than it was five years ago. The issue has been elevated out of the defense-planning realm up to the national decision-making level. The transatlantic community should be heartened that the foreign and defense ministries of the countries within the Alliance and their militaries have the resident defense thought leadership to make major progress on the mobility issue in the years ahead.

The United States Department of Defense, NATO, and the European Union should welcome the Atlantic Council’s continuing interest, expertise, and enthusiasm shown on this highly important transatlantic security topic, as evidenced by this outstanding research report. We strongly encourage US and NATO military and political leaders to not only seriously consider these Atlantic Council military mobility recommendations, but to take positive, expeditious action upon as many of them as is practicable in the months and years ahead.

Wayne A. Schroeder, Ph.D.
Nonresident senior fellow
Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, Atlantic Council

The imperative: Defining the role of military mobility in Europe

Since the Russian Federation’s annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the following full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the credibility of NATO’s deterrence and defense is at stake on Europe’s eastern flank. In response, facilitating the movement of military troops and assets across Europe will be essential to improve the implementation of NATO’s focus on territorial defense. Bringing troops from western Europe or across the Atlantic to the front lines is the first step of combat. Therefore, NATO’s ability to deter aggression and “defend every inch” of its territory relies heavily on military mobility.

Today, Europe’s military mobility capabilities are inadequate. Assessing the performance of major land, sea, and air logistical vectors is paramount to the projected fighting power of the Alliance as a whole. If the logistics chain currently in place to support Ukraine were considered a blueprint, it would not be capable of sustaining a long-lasting and massive deployment of troops to the eastern flank. If anything, transatlantic support to Ukraine over the past three years has highlighted a harsh reality: Military mobility capabilities in Europe are stretched thin. It is therefore imperative to consider the short-term operational requirements for enabling land mobility from all directions toward and along NATO’s eastern border. This report takes a holistic view of facilitating the seamless movement of troops to the East. 1

Improving military mobility will require a whole-of-society and multilateral approach. The military cannot act alone. Most of the challenges behind land mobility such as infrastructure development and legal and diplomatic procedures fall under civilian control. Further, military mobility must consider economic and political realities as well as military ones to marry civilian priorities with NATO’s operational requirements.

NATO is the most efficient operational actor regarding military mobility, but the European Union (EU) plays a critical role in improving the continent’s military mobility. The EU could become the main operator of dual-use infrastructure, being responsible for managing and running their day-to-day operation, to allow the Alliance to operate as seamlessly as possible. The EU’s interest in military mobility is not new, but it could acquire a more strategic role in steering continent-wide priorities.

Meeting NATO’s new force generation requirements

NATO’s military efficiency relies on three key principles: a robust peacetime-activated force structure; high levels of interoperability of forces across members; and the capability, as a result, to place a significant number of forces under NATO command. The latter requires both robust integration mechanisms and adequate military mobility infrastructure. However, Western forces have struggled to adapt to the needs of current military mobility requirements.

First, Europe has much ground to recover since the end of the Cold War, when military mobility was considered a strategic issue. The post-Cold War “peace dividend” led to reductions in European armies’ forces and structures. Ground military mobility relies on five core capabilities: road transportation, road traffic management, bridge operations, railroad operations, and air defense. Those essential capabilities were gradually scaled back. Due to thirty years of underinvestment, the overall performance levels of the largest European armies in logistics have become insufficient, especially in terms of ratio of available vehicle-launched bridges for wet gap crossings,2 military transport,3rail-repair capabilities for logistics, and air-defense assets per brigade.4

Second, for decades, Western armies have been tailored for counterinsurgency warfare beyond NATO territory, such as in sub-Saharan Africa, Iraq, or Afghanistan. The previous decades’ focus on the war on terror meant armies logically prioritized airlift for their respective expeditionary engagement instead of sea, rail, and land. This emphasis was further reinforced by the uncontested air supremacy Western forces enjoyed, which made airlift the fastest option. The result has been a structural bias toward short-term air mobility, at the expense of long-term, railway-intensive planning required for the large-scale movement of heavy forces in Central Europe. Today, this supposedly acquired air superiority is being upended—even in the rear area—by the range of land-air and air-air systems.

The requirements for military mobility have also evolved in response to Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine, with a NATO force posture readiness model adopted at the 2022 NATO summit in Madrid. The Alliance’s defensive strategy seeks to immediately inflict losses on an aggressor and defend every inch of NATO’s territory, instead of the previous trip-wire strategy. The NATO force model expanded the readiness of forces and the requirement for how fast and where troops could be deployed. At any time, more than half a million personnel are to be made available to the supreme allied commander Europe (SACEUR) within thirty to 180 days to implement the new NATO plans.

This strategy means military planning must account for a much quicker flow of personnel and materiel to the front—meaning NATO’s new frontline, which stretches from the High North to the Baltic states and Poland, and down to the Black Sea region. In the event of a threat to NATO’s territory, rapid and massive reinforcements will be necessary from elsewhere on the continent, making mobility essential. The recent enlargement of the Alliance with the accession of Finland and Sweden has significantly extended the distance to cover for troops coming from across the ocean and multiplied the number of border crossings, adding to the existing challenge.

Allies have been slowly building up a presence along the eastern flank. Until recently, NATO did not have significant forward-deployed units along its eastern border, except for a reassurance force in the form of four NATO battlegroups: They became operational in 2017 in the three Baltic states and Poland. At the 2023 Vilnius summit, these enhanced forward presences were bolstered to improve the imbalance of conventional forces in states on the eastern flank, and particularly in the Baltic area. Now, following the decision in 2022 to quickly create four more battlegroups in Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, and Slovakia, NATO manages eight battlegroups on the eastern flank. In 2024, Sweden announced its intention to assume the framework nation role in the enhanced forward presence in Finland, which is geared toward defending the Northern ports—with a brigade-sized unit.5

In Romania, France deploys 1,500 permanent personnel, which will be regularly reinforced to approximately 4,000 in order to train the ability of France to deploy a brigade—typically 3,000 to 5,000 soldiers—within ten days.6

Even prior to this new push, military mobility was understood to be an essential task for the Alliance. The establishment of the Joint Support and Enabling Command (JSEC) in 2018 shows that military mobility, particularly in terms of coordination, was again a strategic priority for SACEUR.

The nexus between geographical constants and technological constraints

The history of military movements across Europe provides a valuable blueprint for understanding how forces would move across the continent. The maneuvers of the major units that took part in the final victory in the European theater during World War II demonstrate the continued relevance of certain corridors. Furthermore, comparing historical and current maps underlines the role of the Carpathian Mountains as one of the most formidable physiographic divides of the European theater. The map also shows how much Germany lies at the core of the northern corridor of mobility.

While dual-use infrastructures can reduce the inequality of access between the North and South, they cannot provide complete balance. Mobility will remain more complex in the southern area than in the northern area, given its mountain chains including the Alps and Carpathians, but also rivers, notably the Danube. As a result, efforts will have to be made outside of this double corridor in the North to geographically balance activity and ensure redundant connections to the Mediterranean. In the High North, achieving secondary routes is made difficult by the fact that countries only have a few roads and even fewer rail lines. Finland’s railway gauge is different from the rest of Europe. Existing lines of transport are susceptible to winter damage. The Alliance must balance these geographical constraints with military requirements.

Figure 1: Second World War mobility corridors across Europe

Figure 2: Contemporary corridors of land mobility

Sources: Data taken from European TENtec Map and NATO online portal

Modern realities paint a more complex picture for military mobility. In a break from the past, the relative safety of the rear area of the theater of operations is fading. The increased hybrid nature of modern warfare and the proliferation of long-range weapon systems mean that the Alliance must plan for enemy actions both along the front and in the rear, meaning western Europe will also need security in the context of military mobility. Furthermore, Russia’s alliance with Belarus and the Russian enclave of Kaliningrad, in which short-range, ground-launched ballistic and cruise missiles are situated, put military mobility most at risk in the northern corridor.

For example, the Baltic Sea’s most important harbor, Klaipėda, in Lithuania, lies six kilometers from Kaliningrad. This proximity highlights the need for additional supply-line options primarily over Norway through Scandinavia in the event of a strike on the port. Securing sea routes in the High North is also a priority as a diversification strategy, facilitated by the accession of Sweden and Finland to the Alliance. The NATO countries located on its eastern flank are vulnerable to short-range cruise missiles and drone campaigns such as the those launched by Russia in Ukraine.

In the hybrid domain, Russia has shown its willingness and ability to disrupt cyber and energy networks in Europe. It also has shown its capabilities to act covertly, including with the deployment of a military ship under disguise in the English Channel.7 Russian activity remains persistent along NATO’s maritime borders, while incursions have increased across continental Europe8

—particularly on the eastern flank—testing civilian preparedness. These actions challenge not only military mobility but also aim to generate broader cognitive effects. One such effect is habituation—often described through the “boiling frog” metaphor—where organizations gradually become desensitized to hostile activity. Ultimately, the resilience of societies is closely tied to the resilience of their critical infrastructure.

European political momentum and the EU’s role as an operator

NATO allies pledged at the 2025 Hague summit to spend 1.5 percent of gross domestic product annually toward infrastructure including military mobility.9

Harnessing the current political momentum, this report suggests ways for Europe to address and advance its short-term gaps in air, sea, and land mobility. For example, successfully moving a massive number of troops across the entire European continent depends on reliable, resilient infrastructure with sufficient trucks and trains to execute the mission. However, it also relies on efficient coordination, smooth border crossings, and solid planning. A patchwork of players is involved in the practice of planning military mobility including:

  • Sending nation: The nation whose troops are moving.
  • Host nation: Transit takes place through this nation.
  • NATO command structure.
  • EU authorities: Those who are responsible for the administrative and legal issues of troop movements.

Much of the effort sits with member states. Many European allies have already taken initiatives to foster greater mobility. A notable example is the tripartite agreement between Poland, Germany, and the Netherlands to create more fluidity in terms of cross-border procedures in military movements along the corridor that connects all three countries. NATO also is a driving force, both in terms of procedures10 and resources, notably through the NATO Security Investment Program (NSIP). This program has seen its funds annually increase,11 given growing security pressures on the continent. However, the management of this funding remains complex, and recent statements lead us to believe that military mobility is no longer one of the most important spending priorities.“In terms of the total approved program (EUR 5,651 million from 2025 to 2030), the majority of the forecasted expenditure relates to Command and Control – Communications and Information Systems, followed by Basing/Facilities and Petrol, Oil and Lubricants. 12

NATO adds another layer to the planning. In peacetime, JSEC prepares the theater for potential reinforcements; during crises, it coordinates the reinforcement and sustainment of forces by managing a multidomain network of contacts across NATO and the EU, facilitating logistics and cross-border coordination to ensure the rapid deployment of forces. This coordination remains complex. It relies on the voluntary efforts of individual nations, and will also be limited, as some EU states are not members of NATO (i.e., Austria, Cyprus, Ireland, and Malta13).

Finally, the European Union is and will be an increasingly major player in improving military mobility. First and foremost, it relies on the Trans-European Transport Network (TEN-T) program, which is an EU program dedicated to civilian and military use, to plan and develop a coherent, efficient, multimodal, and high-quality transport infrastructure across the EU. TEN-T “comprise[s] railways, inland waterways, short sea shipping routes and roads linking urban nodes, maritime and inland ports, airports and terminal,”14and more; specifically, TEN-T core ports are ideally connected to the surface network. The program has elevated military mobility as a strategic priority. It specifically delegates this issue to several of its offices: the European Defense Agency (EDA), the European Investment Bank, the European External Action Service, and several other commissions and agencies. Numerous initiatives have been taken under EU auspices, such as working meetings, reports, and audits, but a more centralized response stands out as an effort to fully target the problem: the Action Plan on Military Mobility (APMM).

The APMM seeks to eliminate bureaucratic obstacles and fund necessary infrastructure improvements. Despite complex coordination challenges—especially with neutral EU states like Austria, Ireland, Cyprus, and Malta—the collective momentum makes one thing clear: Military mobility is no longer a convenience but a cornerstone of Europe’s defense posture. The EU’s White Paper for European Defense Readiness 2030—its first—identified military mobility as one of the seven capability gaps Europe needs to collectively address urgently.15 At the same time, the newly created Defense Commission has since set up a task force to update the existing APMM. The negotiation of the EU’s multiannual financial framework (MFF) 2028–2034 also opens a window of opportunity to prioritize cross-border, dual-use military infrastructure. Military mobility was already a priority for the EU in its 2017 Strategic Compass,16 leading to the first EU APMM adopted in 2018, following by a second one in 2022. Given that the action plan draws out priorities until 2026,17 the Commission is in a process to develop a new set of priorities for the next multiannual plan.18

This Atlantic Council report looks at four areas that require more European and, most importantly, EU effort to strengthen military mobility:

  • Infrastructure development: Updating existing or, if necessary, constructing new transport infrastructure such as port facilities, railroad, road, and supporting infrastructure.
  • Coordination between the EU and NATO: Better coordinating, sustaining, and employing large-scale forces of the Alliance’s command structure, with the EU acting as an operator.
  • Establishment of requirements for civil-military infrastructure development.
  • Development of norms on legal and diplomatic procedures to ensure seamless movement: Facilitating border crossings for military forces by improving communication and coordination between civil-military actors.

EU-NATO cooperation: Efficiently streamlining activities

JSEC’s first mission in a crisis is to coordinate with the host nations to secure lines of communication, then facilitate the transit of military forces across a network of ports, railroads, airports, and roads called the reinforcement and supply network (RSN) of NATO. Since its creation, JSEC has been the main military mobility stakeholder in NATO, achieving a level of planning detail unseen since the 1990s and taking over as the head of the Allied Movement Coordination Center (AMCC), the operational level of military mobility coordination for NATO.

On the host nation side, things have been much slower, but there has been a clear trend toward taking the issue more seriously at the political level since 2022, in the wake of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. First, in western Europe, armies started to create standing Homeland Defense Commands: e.g., France and Germany regained those capabilities in 2023. Some countries, like Finland, had preserved them. Among other duties, these staff structures are tasked with planning the transit of sending-nation troops on their territory. This is important because host nations’ responsibilities include organizing troop-staging areas and making arrangements to protect, refuel, and feed the different convoys.

The protection aspect is essential because defending critical infrastructure and assets is vital against hybrid threats of sabotage and long-range fires. All these tasks require space, time, and supplies (e.g., food, fuel) that will quickly overwhelm any peacetime logistical system. Nations have also made significant improvements regarding their own movement coordination staff or, when in place and fully functional, through their own National Movement Coordination Center (NMCC). These bodies are specifically tasked with coordinating the air, sea, road, and rail movement of allied troops as a host nation or their own troops abroad as a sending nation. Several countries had not set up NMCCs up until recently, and some have not fully integrated the different movement capabilities. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Poland has recently announced its plan to create dedicated national units for the reception, staging, and onward movement (RSOM) of Alliance units on its soil.

The EU has not created an additional structure for coordinating allied movements in a major joint operation that does not involve NATO. Still, the existence of the Multinational Joint Headquarters (MNJHQ) in Ulm could fill this role, if called upon to do so, as its commanding general is also the JSEC commander. Of note is the existence of Movement Coordination Centre Europe (MCCE), an ad hoc structure that deals with multimodal strategic movement. While relevant during expeditionary warfare and peacetime, it is unlikely to be fit for high-intensity warfare in its current form. While the multiplying of actors from NATO, the EU, and other ad hoc structures is a clear indication that the subject is being taken seriously, it also carries the risk of overlapping responsibilities. On the planning side, the coordination between NATO and the EU has been fruitful, for example between Europe’s TEN-T and NATO’s RSN. However, there are initiatives that should be merged, like NATO’s Multinational Ammunition Warehouse Initiative (MAWI) and a network of logistics hubs dubbed NetLogHubs,19 through a permanent structured cooperation (PESCO) project. The missions and roles of different entities need clarification, and some will need to disappear, while others will have to be streamlined.

Planning and training

Realistically, there is no way to make sure that when the time comes, the marshaling of Alliance troops on the eastern flank will proceed smoothly. General Eisenhower famously said, “Plans are worthless; but planning is everything.”20

In this case, everything depends on the quality of the planning conducted both by the Alliance’s staff and member nations.

Since 2022, the Alliance has overhauled its various war plans, and the military organizations of its member states have significantly improved their respective levels of preparation. For military mobility in times of crisis, the Alliance will activate the reinforcement and supply network, which includes ports, railways, and roads, but also convoy supply centers and hospitals. Until then, it all comes down to testing these plans. NATO training plans now require that movement training is systematically included in every training exercise in Europe. JSEC has also built its own training schedule, which notably includes Exercise Steadfast Dart, focusing on the deployment of the Alliance’s high readiness Allied Reaction Force. Using simulations or war-games, these events involving member nations’ NMCCs are of great added value. For the purposes of planning and training, NATO uses the LOGFAS (Logistics Functional Area Services) suite, whose software tools include resources, ammunition, force structure, and support infrastructure characteristics to enable accurate operational planning. To achieve the best planning results, the accuracy of the data provided by member states (a sensitive subject among certain members of the Alliance) is of the utmost importance. As managing the logistics of a coalition is challenging, the introduction of AI in a LOGFAS successor has the potential to improve its capabilities.

Member nations also have made significant improvements to the thoroughness of their military planning. However, except for countries bordering Russia, it seemed like only defense ministries were concerned about this issue. The next step is achieving a genuine whole-of-society approach to the military mobility equation. Though the current situation is encouraging, the training that has been conducted to date only involves military structures. As previously noted, military mobility in a time of crisis must be a whole-of-government, whole-of-society affair. The next step will have to include the involvement of civilian actors in transport and security, whether they are from other government departments, private-sector entities, or infrastructure stakeholders. It is encouraging to note that in March 2025, France’s Homeland Defense Command hosted HESTIA 25,“21

a tabletop exercise involving the armed forces, civil servants from a range of departments, and private-sector actors. The focus of the event was the role of France as a host nation within NATO and aimed at fostering mutual comprehension among the different stakeholders, while improving planning and learning valuable lessons.

Existing infrastructure of military mobility

Analyzing the efficiency and capacity of major logistical sea and rail routes is paramount to assessing the projected fighting power of the Alliance as well as its capability to take troops to the front lines. In addition, the durability of these routes must be sustained through a developed network of warehousing and stocking facilities throughout Europe.

Figure 3: Core European ports and freight rail network

Sources: Data taken from European TENtec Map

The European ports: Gateways to military power

Most of the Alliance’s fighting power is provided by the United States and transported by sea, making European port facilities key to the success of European military mobility.

The series of connected ports in the Atlantic Ocean and North Sea are the most unlikely to be threatened by an opposing force, due to the projected Alliance’s naval supremacy. These “core ports” are geographically even: fourteen are located on the Atlantic (in France, Spain, and Portugal) and fifteen on the North Sea (in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands, and Belgium). However, the overall port activity is far less balanced. The ports of the North Sea conducted 75 percent of maritime commercial activity in 2023 (Netherlands, Belgium, France). In 2023, 58.3 percent of commercial activity was concentrated in Dutch and Belgian ports, with 28.4 percent in Rotterdam’s core port and 17.1 percent in Antwerp’s core port. This imbalance creates a vulnerability in terms of the division of logistical efforts because it makes dispersion much more difficult. In addition to physical vulnerability, this overconcentration is making NATO’s logistics planning highly predictable.

This vulnerability is accentuated by China’s investments in European ports. According to the European Parliamentary Research Service,22 China holds 24.9 percent of the Port of Hamburg’s shares and, even more significantly, COSCO Shipping23 owns more than 85 percent of the Zeebrugge container terminal in Belgium and 67 percent of Piraeus Port in Greece, as underlined by a study from the Dutch think tank Clingendael24. Beyond this financial vulnerability, China is currently providing a vast majority of the cranes used in Dutch ports, notably in Rotterdam. An investigation led by the US Congress demonstrated high threats to confidentiality due to illegally installed Chinese modems in said cranes.25As these cranes unload the goods and scan them, it is likely that the cargo manifests of ships will quickly find their way into servers in China. Consequently, on February 29, 2024, the US House Committee on Homeland Security sent a letter to the chairman of Shanghai Zhenhua Heavy Industries Company, asking for clarification.

Railways: The artery of military mobility

Trains are the only ground-transportation mode capable of sustaining long-lasting and high-intensity conflict. In most European countries, the state and its armed forces maintain close ties with the major railroad companies. For instance, the three biggest European railroad operators26. are still 100 percent owned by their respective countries and the armed forces remain important clients. This relative autonomy is reinforced by the recent European TEN-T policy aimed at developing cooperation and the intermodality of national rail networks. This policy focuses on nine key corridors crucial for military mobility.

Table 1: Rail corridors crucial for military mobility

 Corridor name
1Atlantic
2Baltic Sea-Adriatic Sea
3Mediterranean
4North Sea-Baltic
5Baltic Sea-Black Sea-Aegean Sea
6Western Balkans-Eastern Mediterranean
7North Sea-Rhine-Mediterranean
8Rhine Danube
9Scandinavian-Mediterranean

Despite a strong will to establish coordinated governance over these corridors, there are still some challenges hampering the flow of military mobility. The first set of improvements are needed at the national level (and could be streamlined by standardization):

  • Dealing with who or what is traveling: Some countries, like Germany and Austria, do not allow the circulation of mixed trains, meaning trains that transport both troops and equipment.
  • Engine interoperability: Due to differences in railway safety systems and signaling, one country’s engine can only tow a train on its own national network, thus requiring an engine shift at each border crossing.
  • Notice necessary for a foreign train to cross a border: Before February 2022, Poland required one month of notice during peacetime and five days during wartime.27 Despite the dissemination of dedicated Response Measures,28 this question of notice has been a thorn in NATO’s side, including when deploying its Very High-Readiness Joint Task Force between 2003 and 2024.

The second set of improvements is strictly systemic. Germany lies at the core of European military mobility. Accordingly, its railway network is the most developed on the continent. But, when it comes to freight, its network is already overloaded with brown coal convoys, which mainly move at night and are essential to fuel coal power plants. In this area, military mobility is linked to Germany’s domestic policies.

The third and last set of improvements needed are in the technical realm. Most modern military fighting vehicles have gotten heavier and bigger due to enhanced protection and firepower needs. This change makes rail transport more difficult, as most flatbed wagons were designed for smaller Cold War vehicles. Similarly, some key rail infrastructures, such as tunnels and bridges, might not be adapted to these new vehicles’ dimensions. For instance, before the launch of a modernization program named Scorpion in the 2010s, only four French military vehicles were considered oversize load. Now, most are.

On the other hand, modern civilian trains and engines are also not adapted to military needs because dual-use requirements had disappeared when they were engineered. Some cannot be efficiently adapted to war use,29 while older, dual-use models are too expensive to modernize: The average cost of modernizing one railcar is around €400,000 ($466,480). Fortunately, some countries are investing again in this area: For example, the Polish Army, which has been highly dependent on railways to ensure its strategic mobility, invested in heavy platforms and ramps in 2018 and 2019.30 Moreover, certain parts of the European rail network also lack sufficient electricity, with only 56 percent of this network electrified in 2021.31

Additionally, signaling is only slowly being standardized, preventing trains from crossing borders without having to switch the engine. The European Rail Traffic Management System initiative, launched in the 1980s, is a common effort toward a unified railroad network, but the project is making very little progress. Only 17.3 percent of the nine TEN-T key corridors are equipped with interoperable signaling systems and only 13.6 percent of the sensitive North Sea-Baltic, North Sea-Rhine-Mediterranean, and Atlantic corridors are equipped.

Given the range of improvements needed, Europe could further support the standardization of dual-use European rail cars for the transport of personnel, wounded people, and equipment. (See recommendation 1.)

Strategic air mobility: Enabling NATO’s first response

Strategic air mobility is a cornerstone of NATO’s deterrence and rapid response, offering unmatched speed and flexibility—but it also is vulnerable. In a crisis, air transport enables quick deployment of light forces and equipment, but once air superiority is contested, its role shifts to moving personnel, with heavy gear transported by sea or rail. The majority of NATO’s strategic airlift capacity comes from the US Air Force. While European allies operate Airbus A400M transporters and take part in multinational efforts like the Strategic Airlift Capability initiative, they remain reliant on US assets, especially for oversized cargo. This imbalance is worsened by limited aerial refueling and reliance on a few critical hubs such as the Ramstein and Brize Norton air bases in Germany and the United Kingdom, respectively. Many European runways cannot handle large aircraft, and civilian airports pose security risks. Strategic airlift also depends on ground infrastructure and legal access rights.

Europe’s continued reliance on chartered Antonov AN-124 aircraft through the Strategic Airlift International Solution framework exposed vulnerabilities in its strategic airlift policy. Following the withdrawal of Russian operators between 2018 and 2022, what remains of the Ukrainian fleet is facing mounting maintenance challenges after losing access to Russian-produced spare parts. Though the European Air Transport Command has improved tactical coordination, it lacks the mandate and resources to manage strategic movements. Despite being less visible than ground logistics, strategic air mobility remains important to NATO’s initial response in Europe.

Stocks and warehouses: The fuel of military mobility

During wartime, a network of fully stocked warehouses is crucial in maintaining the vitality of logistical activity, with fuel, ammunition, spare parts and even vehicles directly available. Being able to position reserve equipment in strategic locations is essential to quickly react to any contingency. While the notion of prepositioning military stocks itself triggers some sovereignty issues, this strategy is critical to absorb the first blow of the enemy. The relatively small size of the European continent does not alter the pertinence of this principle, which is why, at Belgium’s urging, NATO launched Multiannual Warehousing Initiative (MAWI) in 2021. This high-visibility warehousing project aims to organize the stocking of ammunition close to the anticipated front lines. As of June 2023, twenty-three allies had joined. However, support for this project has been mitigated by its clause regarding ammunition consumption in wartime, wherein the host nation can use nonnational ammunition stocks and refund them retroactively, a highly sensitive matter when it comes to precious and not-easily procurable ammunitions like 155 millimeter shells.

Although pertinent, this project only concerns ammunition, not battlespace management. For instance, a divisional support group requires a 400 km2 area to set up. Given the growing transparency of the battlefield of modern combat, military logistics will have to rely on a deconcentrated civilian warehousing network. In the absence of an ambitious strategic project regarding EU military stock prepositioning, identifying this network and preparing the legal aspects of requisitions could be a step toward a strategic approach to military commitment on European soil.

Without forestalling sovereignty delegation, the EU could help identify civilian warehouses that could be requisitioned in wartime. (See recommendation 2.)

Future of US force projection in Europe

The United States maintains an organization under the 21st Theater Sustainment Command (TSC) to provide theater sustainment in Europe, a practice begun in the beginning of the Cold War. It is the lead organization for the sustainment activities of the US Army Europe and Africa (USAREUR-AF). Currently the US Army’s largest forward-deployed formation, its very presence functions as a deterrent against potential adversaries.

First, the 21st TSC guarantees the smooth reception, staging, onward movement, and integration of incoming US units, leveraging its maintenance and mobility support units to accelerate force deployment. If called upon to do so, it can dramatically increase the throughput of ports, rail networks, and airports anywhere in Europe, ensuring that troops and equipment reach their respective operational area without delay.

Second, it provides sustainment for initial US forces through a vast network of depots and prepositioned stockpiles, demonstrating the ability to surge forces anywhere in Europe without relying on ad hoc logistics. Finally, the 21st TSC’s overarching mission is to sustain the USAREUR-AF at the theater level, guaranteeing that deployed forces remain effective throughout the campaign.

US deterrence and the credibility of the transatlantic security guarantee are fundamentally reliant on the 21st TSC’s ability to project, sustain, and surge American forces rapidly. In essence, US deployment is inseparable from “Team 21” and its unique logistical capabilities, which may be put under stress by the new US defense posture. As the US posture evolves, NATO must ensure the credibility of its power projection structure remains credible.

Prioritizing and streamlining infrastructure requirements

The infrastructure requirements issue stands at the crossroads of two contradictory dynamics. On one hand, NATO has the best assessment on military logistic needs and the fastest planning process. On the other hand, upgrading mobility infrastructures—used for civilian purposes in peacetime—is a long-term national and civilian prerogative. In this context, the EU’s normative power has a key role to play in organizing the meeting between the operational military requirements and harmonized, communitarian infrastructure development. In that framework, the EU APMM appears to be the best vector to enhance cooperation between NATO and the EU.

An EU strategy to achieve continent-wide effects

The EU APMM, first signed in 2018, has provided a strong incentive for member states to upgrade their infrastructure. The previous action plans have led to significant improvements, but their limited budget prevented them from achieving any broad strategic objectives. The two successive action plans, in 2018 and 2022,32 were shaped by the war in Ukraine, prompting an acceleration, which was also emphasized in the Strategic Compass published the same year.33Approximately €1.7 billion was allocated under the 2021–2027 MFF,34 but a significantly larger, more strategically directed budget could be earmarked in the coming year.

The military scope of selected APMM projects still requires refining. Decision-making is a major issue in the process. It is difficult to understand why some projects receive more money and others do not. Ultimately, 70 percent of selected projects concern land mobility by rail or road, with 81 percent of budget allocated. A major issue is that the selected projects directly support movements within the borders of the applicant countries, with only two of the ninety-five projects selected involving cross-border infrastructure.35 Moreover, the locations of the selected projects show wider distribution in the eastern part of Europe, with Germany, Poland, Lithuania, and Latvia, respectively, in the top four places among the countries that received funding from the action plan. As a result, it remains challenging to assess the overall contribution of these projects to military mobility on a continental scale.

From a geographical perspective, the distribution of APMM-funded projects has favored northern and northeastern Europe. Strikingly, Romania is the only southeastern European country to have benefited from the mechanism, and even then, it ranks only eleventh overall. This imbalance is a systemic weakness in terms of military mobility. It naturally leads to a concentration of flows toward the North, which will rapidly lead to the saturation of lines of communication and greater chances of sabotage due to the geographical concentration of flows. This trend is further underscored by the fact that none of the projects put forward by Greece have been selected.

Instead of merely validating national proposals, the EU should define a genuine strategic framework for military mobility, prioritizing cross-border projects and ensuring that neglected but critical regions are not left aside. (See recommendation 3.) It also entails working more closely with NATO when setting priorities and awarding funds, to reinforce the overall coherence of the network. (See recommendation 4.)

Better cooperation between the EU and NATO would improve the project selection process and give a more strategic dimension to the actions implemented. This assessment must play a greater role in the project validation process to ensure coherent and redundant mobility, to more easily compensate for any regional shortcomings.

Process and budgetary improvements

A study of the current complex EU application process is conducive to imbalances since candidates will invest in this process with varying levels of intensity. In the wake of reviews from the 2021, 2022, and 2023 calls for applications, questions should be raised about the relevance of the process, as it exists today. The selection process involves two phases, one conducted by the European Climate, Infrastructure, and Environment Agency and the other by the Directorate-General for Mobility and Transport. The first phase consists of an independent evaluation report by three experts, followed by a consensus evaluation report from the same experts. In the second phase, the military evaluation is carried out by the European Union Military Staff (EUMS), followed by several internal assessments, and then a final meeting to arrive at a shortlist of projects.

Efforts should be made to clarify and streamline the current mechanism, as highlighted in the European Court of Auditors’ report on EU military mobility.36 Currently, the strategic assessment of infrastructure renovation needs is largely reduced to a single microstep, carried out by the EUMS, in the middle of an administrative mille-feuille. The EU should renovate its application process to include a one-stop, lead decision-maker, which could help implement a better overall strategy. The applicant information should also be supplemented by details of other financing methods. Whether we are talking about direct financing from the Connecting Europe Facility (CEF) or financing purely military infrastructures through the NSIP, efforts must be made to educate all nations participating in the EU and/or NATO, to achieve continental-scale military mobility effects. (See recommendation 5.)

More generally, the EU’s budget for military mobility is insufficient. After an assessment phase from 2021, member states could submit project applications for funding to upgrade dual-use infrastructure. Precipitated by a downward revision, EU funding quickly dried up, as the last call in 2023 exhausted the allocated funds. A total of ninety-five projects were supported by this mechanism, which will ultimately refund 50 percent of the expenditure incurred by states. With an average value of €18 million, each project is expected to be delivered before the end of the EU multinational financial framework,37 which should enable assessment of the mechanism’s effectiveness by 2027.

The amount of funding should not be such a rapidly limiting factor in terms of overall strategy. If we return to Greece, each of its two submitted projects obtained scores that enabled retention in the final ballot, but funds dedicated to the APMM were exhausted before these projects could be financed. This is regrettable, given that the lines of communication linking Greece to Bulgaria and Romania are already being used intensively, and it is a safe bet that in the event of mass deployment, this network would be insufficient.

More generally, the budget allocated to the APMM appears to be poorly directed and too small to provide a comprehensive response to the issue of military mobility on a continental scale. First, part of the budget should be dedicated to large-scale projects that go beyond the national framework and aim to achieve an objective strategic rebalancing on a European scale. Second, the overall budget needs to be increased to consider inflation in construction costs and to avoid holding back microprojects whose overall impact is difficult to measure. The EU should dedicate part of the APMM budget to large-scale projects, targeted by the EUMS to bridge identified capability gaps. (See recommendation 6.) At the same time, it needs to increase the budget dedicated to the APMM to guarantee funding for large-scale projects and prevent the premature drying up of funds, leading to strategic imbalances. (See recommendation 7.)

Feedback should also contribute to better targeting problematic infrastructures. Whether we are talking about flows resulting from support for Ukraine or those deliberately provoked as part of multinational exercises, lessons must be learned to pinpoint military mobility problems linked to dual-use infrastructure. Some lessons seem to have been learned already from Russian aggression, such as the financing by the CEF of standard gauge railroads in Ukraine between Chop and Uzhhorod, but more needs to be done. If Atlantic Resolve38 operations were to make greater use of rail, the difference in rail gauges between Spain and the rest of Europe should encourage the EU to take up the issue of Spain’s network conversion to standard gauge. It is therefore crucial to update the APMM’s guidelines and prioritize the actions to be taken in the light of completed missions. The EU should include a list of operational shortcomings related to dual infrastructures in the joint EUMS/NATO assessment, to encompass the full spectrum of multinational missions in Europe. (See recommendation 8.)

On these two fronts, the EU could take the lead by organizing a dedicated seminar on infrastructure related to military mobility. This event should be jointly hosted by the European Union Military Staff, with active support from NATO stakeholders, to raise awareness of existing funding mechanisms and emphasize the importance of national involvement. The target audience should include representatives from transport ministries and armed forces, fostering greater synergy between civilian and military actors and encouraging more coordinated strategic planning across member states. (See recommendation 9.)

Leveraging civilian resources

The current role of the private sector in military mobility

Being able to access the massive pool of civilian transportation vehicles is a tempting way to improve military mobility in Europe. Since a quick surge in the number of military transport fleets is unlikely, it could be the quickest option available. There are two different approaches to using the private sector: through contracts or requisitioning. The latter calls to mind various legal tools enabling states to legally appropriate resources, assets, and services if no other solutions are immediately available. Although this policy exists in Europe, there are significant process variations across countries. Notably, requisitioning has fallen out of fashion since the Cold War. With the return of war on the continent, however, nations are updating their legislative arsenals to become more efficient in times of crisis. That said, tapping the private sector is not a panacea.

The private sector has had an enduring role in warfare. No matter the period, it has played a significant role in military logistics.39 The success of those endeavors relied heavily on comprehensive planning: Plans were thoroughly tested and routinely revised to stay relevant. The most recent reference in Europe is the Cold War, where both sides planned to rely on requisitions to expedite mobilization, quickly transport hardware and supplies, and boost transport capabilities. Civilian and military offices were engaged in a constant inventory of not only civilian truck fleets but also buses and civil-engineering vehicles—with the tallies, locations, and statuses constantly tracked and updated. Civilian airlines and maritime transport companies made arrangements to enable use of their respective assets on short notice to directly support their country’s armed forces. Given the sheer scale of logistics in peer-to-peer warfare, there will never be enough military vehicles to support this kind of massive effort.

Since the end of the Cold War, the civilian sector dramatically shifted to occupy a contracting role, without any notion of requisition. Western armies themselves encouraged this evolution, deliberately reducing their own heavy logistical assets and increasingly outsourcing functions to civilian providers. The subsequent rise of expeditionary warfare also meant that logistics were essentially static as ammunition consumption remained low, as did human and material losses. Western armies became accustomed to this logistical comfort.

Three years after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, several important realizations have slowly surfaced. First, in the case of major conflict, military mobility alone is insufficient to enable the transport of forces across Europe in a timely manner. Armies lack the number of trucks needed to transport equipment and resources, but the same goes for heavy equipment transport (i.e., trucks able to move main battle tanks) or flatbed railcars, which are mostly owned and operated by civilian companies. This leads us to the second point: The contribution of the private sector will be essential if we want to reach the scale that is required to move and supply a significant military force in Central Europe. The final realization is that mobilization has become an increasingly rare practice, and contemporary governments are often unfamiliar with the full range of capabilities and tools it affords.

Countries are revising old laws. In France, the law mandates that construction, bus, and truck companies must establish and update inventories of their vehicles via a web portal. However, most companies are simply unaware of these legal requirements. A partial conclusion is that mobilization is not an exclusively military issue. Private companies need to be made aware of their obligations and must be involved in current discussions regarding planning and policies. Political impetus is crucial for these processes to be completed successfully, as is testing to ensure the effective functioning of requisition processes. Set up national-level, regular vehicle-mobilization training events involving private companies,40 to check inventories and ensure the validity of the process. (See recommendation 10.)

An unequal modernization

European countries have unequal histories and development and various contexts of mobilizing civilian assets. While European countries have been highly active since 2022 to update their laws,41they are not all at the same level of progress. Most have achieved significant legislative progress, but there is a lot left to do. Also of note, apart from Sweden and Finland, military mobility is considered a purely military issue. However, the need to involve civilian stakeholders from both the public and private sectors is obvious. Most national plans state that transferring massive forces to the front lines will be a “whole-of-government, whole-of-society task.” What remains is translating this buzzword into solid facts, actual plans, and realistic training. Nationally, European countries should foster a whole-of-government approach to military mobility to develop robust relationships between ministries. The EU could fund studies of various European national approaches to civil-military relations to establish a set of lessons learned. (See recommendation 11.)

Take France, Germany, and Sweden, for example, which pursue diverse approaches to civil-military relations—adapted to the specific national context. Since 2023, the French Military Programming Law for the 2024–2030 period has allowed the prime minister to proceed with requisitions and even to delegate that power to both civilian and military authorities. More importantly, this new law expands the cases qualifying for requisitions to include the first stages of a crisis and not merely during war scenarios. It significantly enlarges the scope to become something much more adapted to hybrid warfare.42The result is a significant improvement in the speed at which the French government can respond to unforeseen circumstances, improving deterrence.

As the biggest country in Central Europe, Germany is a nexus of military mobility. Its legal arsenal dates to 1968 with the passage of its Economic Security Assurance Act. Dubbed WiSiG,43 the act laid out its economic mobilization processes in times of both tension and war. These laws have not been altered since then and do not cover the requisition of transport means for the direct benefit of the military, instead focusing on the security of the economy. Although not as advanced as other countries, Germany started to actively plan for its role in a major conflict in 2022. In 2024, Germany started communicating about OPLAN Deutschland, its classified plan to organize the deployment and transit of up to 800,000 NATO soldiers with their 200,000 vehicles and associated logistics across the entire country. As host nation, it is Germany’s role to provide troops with places to stop, rest, and access spare parts, equipment, and fuel. Inevitably, these plans must involve the private sector. To this day, however, there is no sign that Germany plans to resort to requisitioning to achieve its desired results, opting instead for extensive planning of a massive contribution from the private sector.

Sweden has one of the most comprehensive mobilization systems in Europe, rivaled only by Finland. In times of crisis or conflict, Sweden can mobilize civilian resources for both civilian and military needs. Local and regional authorities and the private sector are included in the mobilization planning process. There is an existing legal framework for requisitioning civilian transport assets: buses, trucks, ships, and planes. Both regional and interregional transport systems are merged in military logistics to be used most notably for evacuations and conscript transport. Essential dual-use infrastructures like ports, rail terminals, and airports can also be used and even modified to better suit military needs. The new Total Defence Bill for 2025–2030 (signed in 2024) has modernized and updated the different rules enforced in times of crisis or war, but the Swedish government has stated there is still a lot to do. Sweden is currently looking to revive its Krigsviktiga-företag concept, 44 which designated specific companies whose mission was to maintain their strategic activities even in the case of war and the breakdown of their regular supply chain, thanks to additional stocks and higher readiness. Relying as it did on financial incentives, this system did not survive recent waves of privatization, globalization, and European rules on competition.

Priorities in the private sector-military relationship for strategic mobility

Militaries must factor in the involvement of the private sector given the gigantic size of the task required by mobility in times of war. However, relying exclusively on the private sector is not a panacea as there are areas where the needs of the military and civilians simply do not overlap. Road transportation is the private sector’s most obvious potential contribution. Trucks carry almost 80 percent of all freight transported over land in the European Union, with a truck fleet of around 6.4 million units.45The biggest fleet is Poland’s (1.4 million), followed by Germany and Italy (900,000 each), and then France (600,000). Overall, 700,000 buses are in operation across the EU, almost half of which can be found in three countries alone: Poland (130,000), Italy (100,000), and France (95,000). On paper at least, the resources are there to allow for a quick surge in capacity if need be; but the reality is more nuanced.

There are significant differences between civilian and military logistics. Truck companies use pallets to load and handle goods (the share of container transport in road transport is only 6 percent46), whereas the current military standard is the 20 foot container. The proportion varies greatly depending on the country in question, but on average, only about 20 percent of trucks can handle these containers. Transshipment between strategic and tactical transport would entail a loss of time and effort that would have to be addressed with proper staffing or contracts, further increasing the need for container-handling equipment. European countries, including through the EU, could identify key transport companies and encourage them to use container-compatible equipment. (See recommendation 12.)

Additionally, there is a concern about the dispersal of truck drivers in western Europe for a massive transport fleet. A significant portion of the drivers employed by transportation companies are not nationals and many third-country drivers come from Central Europe. Thus, there is a significant risk that these foreign drivers will answer the call of duty in their own country in a time of crisis. Companies will have to report honestly on these topics if any serious survey initiative is to be successful.

Furthermore, the European Union is facing a looming crisis in road transportation due to the current shortage of truck drivers. This shortage is evaluated at around 250,000 positions today and could triple in 2028 because a third of truck drivers are over the age of fifty.47

Rail is the other area where the private sector’s role will significantly reinforce military mobility. It would be tempting to think that we could easily employ civilian rolling stock for mobilization, but as is the case with road transport, what stands out are the different civilian and military needs.

Even thirty years after the Cold War, most armed forces still possess rolling stock to transport their hardware, but the current number is nowhere near enough to transport entire divisions. On the civilian side, while flatbed railcars are available in large numbers, they are unfortunately not suitable for transporting military vehicles, as they are too high and narrow and few of them are suitable for transporting standardized, reusable containers. Power sources could also become a problem as electric engines become more prevalent across western Europe. However, the lower level of electrification in Central Europe, along with the greater vulnerability of electric lines to sabotage and damage, all make it dangerous to rely solely on electricity. European nations should identify a European budget for the development and acquisition of a standardized military flatcar. (See recommendation 13.)

The relationship between railway companies and the armed forces is a key factor in ensuring that military trains function smoothly. Some companies have teams dedicated to military trains, and exchanges between the highest levels of the armed forces and their CEOs are frequent. However, the liberalization of the rail sector within the EU has introduced significant weaknesses to military railway transport because the needs of the armed forces are so specific that few companies are ready to work with them. As a result, it’s usually the “historic” national operators that bid for contracts involving loading and driving trains for the military, but even this relationship is currently jeopardized by excessive regulation. For instance, Poland is currently in the process of buying new military rail stock from its historical operator, PKP Cargo, but is worried that the move could be classified as unauthorized public aid under EU competition law. European countries could take measures to make European investment rules more flexible on military mobility issues. (See recommendation 14.)

From a human resources standpoint, mobilized workers will have to be prepared. Warfare is evolving, and the relative safety of the rear area of the theater of operations is slowly fading with the proliferation of long-range assets. Proper preparation is crucial because, although civilian drivers face lower risks than combat troops, their exposure remains considerable. Being able to provide volunteer drivers with a suitable military status that will negate their right to withdraw could be a solution. Nations could assess the interest in a transportation reserve that would be used as a pool for military strategic transportation. (See recommendation 15.)

Finally, yet importantly, the world has changed since the Cold War, and global supply chains have shifted how we produce and consume resources. European citizens today rely on a delicate logistical web that makes food grown thousands of miles away available. Even after the COVID-19 pandemic, we live in a world of just-in-time deliveries and minimal stocks. Any brutal change in that web could have dire consequences for the civilian population. Proper planning must consider that a sizable portion of the civilian transportation fleet will be essential to maintain that chain.

Although the requisition process is an act of supreme authority that comes from the state, there must always be compensation provided to the owner. This means that massively resorting to it will not be cheap, especially when considering the damage and destruction to which those assets would be exposed. None of these factors are insurmountable, but it does mean that, as always, planning is essential—not only preparing minds and processes but also adapting the hardware. At the national level, armed forces will have to express their specific needs to the private sector, including initiating discussions with transport and railway companies, several years before a crisis starts to loom, to ensure that everything works as planned when the time comes.

From outsourcing to dependence: The integration of the private sector in the logistical optimization of armed forces through AI

The scarcity of resources, the complexity of equipment, and the omnipresence of intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance have transformed warfare into a system where data constitutes one of the most critical fuels.48. In the field of logistics, tasks such as inventory tracking, constrained flow coordination, and data compilation represent major challenges, consuming significant human resources. To address this, NATO relies on logistics information systems such as Logistics Functional Area Services (LOGFAS), which enable real-time tracking of inventory, transportation assets, and expressed requirements.

However, artificial intelligence now emerges as an indispensable enabler to optimize not only these activities but also the use of all necessary resources. The term “resource” should be understood here in its broadest sense. Requisitioning would prove not only administratively complex to implement but also cognitively unmanageable without large-scale data processing capabilities. In the realm of military mobility, the prospects offered by AI seem almost limitless, yet they largely remain beyond the reach of armed forces in terms of data management and computational power.

Given this capability gap, armed forces are turning to specialized companies, generating long-term dependencies. Technological giants such as Google, with its data storage and sharing capabilities, 49or Amazon Web Services (AWS), with the optimization of asset allocation50

and resource management, 51 illustrate some of the possibilities. Some armed forces have already entrusted the management of their operational data to such private actors.

On a broader scale, NATO announced on March 25, 2025, the adoption of the Maven Smart System NATO, developed by Palantir, to equip Allied Command Operations. This AI platform aims to accelerate battlefield decision-making by fusing multisource data. In the specific field of military logistics, Palantir collaborates with Rune Technologies to integrate TyrOS, software designed to transform current logistics processes into intelligent supply networks. This system enables the prediction of future needs, the optimization of available resources, and the facilitation of decentralized operations, even from a laptop in a hostile environment.

Other solutions are under exploration, such as the European Defence Operational Collaborative Cloud at the Alliance level, or Artemis.IA, developed in France. However, this diversity of initiatives presents a challenge: Despite the undeniable contribution of AI in supporting military mobility, competition among private actors and the dispersion of efforts are slowing progress. As customers, the armed forces have little leverage to influence this dynamic. Furthermore, AI raises additional issues, ranging from data compatibility and information sovereignty to resilience against cyber threats.

While the potential of AI for military logistics and mobility has been widely discussed, few significant breakthroughs should be expected in the near term. Such a revolution cannot occur without prior harmonization of standards and methodologies, as well as convergence of perspectives on the security issues inherently linked to the use of artificial intelligence.

The holy grail of a military Schengen area

Streamlining administrative hurdles

The Schengen area permits the seamless movement of people and goods across the borders of different countries. Citizens can travel without passports from Portugal to Poland, never stopping for border control. But for armed forces to move a significant number of troops across allied territory in peacetime, there are complex steps to follow called cross-border movement procedures (CBMP). Standardization is one of the EU’s greatest powers, yet it has failed to iron out these problems. The main issue seems to be that many countries add their own layer of national regulations and paperwork, even though the EU form alone is “officially” enough. On the one hand, NATO is obviously the main client of military mobility. On the other hand, the EU is the main regulator across the continent and already provides funding and executes programs to enhance the infrastructure and border-crossing processes. Some improvements could be made in the following areas.

The first step is that the nation that allied forces want to move into must grant a movement credit that gives authorization to use its roads during a specific timeslot. Depending on the country and situation, the delays can be very long, especially if a force intends to move across several countries. This is because typically civilian authorities grant (or deny) movement credits. Some countries like Germany and France have decentralized their respective processes to regional offices, which causes further delays and complexity. Nowadays, Poland has a much more efficient process because the Army has been given the power to grant movement credits.

Next comes the preparation of the proper customs documentation for border crossing. This requirement appears simple enough: a single form for multiple border crossings. Both NATO and the EU have their own form and while close in content, only the NATO form is digitized. Each country also can (and often does) request additional paperwork. The EU could streamline the process by expediting the digitization of EU 302 Form. (See recommendation 16). Some countries add yet another layer of difficulty by requiring diplomatic clearance to cross.

The number of military organizations that deal with the different aspects of mobility can also be quite overwhelming for the sending nation. Depending on how a force is moving, the host nation might have several entities that will grant, plan, or execute the movement. Integrating these into national military command centers is key. Enforce a standard for NMCCs that integrates all modes of transportation and centralizes the granting of movement credits. These structures could also be supported by JSEC and MCCE to improve their readiness. (See recommendation 17.)

The transport of dangerous goods (e.g., ammunition and explosives) in the military domain has also become a complicated issue, due to a core series of EU regulations augmented by national restrictions. This is particularly significant for the southern strategic corridor. The European Defense Agency has made recommendations for the transport of dangerous goods in the military domain, but they are not mandatory. Streamline restrictions on dangerous goods transport across the EU for military purposes. (See recommendation 18.)

Developing specific corridors

Both at the political and military levels, cooperation between the EU and NATO exists across several points of contact. Regarding military mobility, the main one is through NATO’s Logistics Action Plan.52 On the administrative side, NATO and the EU are working hard to resolve the different issues. The urgency of the situation means that both parties are regularly exchanging information and requirements. Several projects are showing promise to reach NATO’s prerequisites for enabling and deploying large-scale military formations within seventy-two hours. Among them is the Secure Digital Military Mobility System (SDMMS), which will allow the direct and secure exchange of information between EU member states and dramatically accelerate approvals of CBMPs. Eventually, this software will also cover customs.

Another aspect to improving border crossing is the ability to get a train directly from a country to its destination without changing the engine at each border crossing. Standardized security systems like the European Rail Traffic Management System will greatly help with this endeavor, but it will take decades to finish developing the needed railway equipment and rolling stock. Despite the efforts of the different actors, most notably the EDA and NATO, progress on a “military Schengen” has been very slow so far; an intermediate solution is relying on bilateral and multilateral agreements to advance on this issue. In March 2025, the European Council identified four priority corridors: Northern, Central Northern, Central Southern, and Eastern Corridors,53 which European member states are striving to support and streamline.

Practically, these corridors are unfolding in minilateral groupings, the first of which was formed between Netherlands, Germany, and Poland, with a letter of intent signed January 30, 2024. The three countries are all major stakeholders in military mobility, due to the size of their ports and their geographical location.54During the NATO Washington summit in 2024, Albania, Bulgaria, Italy, and North Macedonia signed a corridor agreement.55

Turkey, Romania, and Bulgaria signed a letter of intent in October 2024, while Romanian and Bulgarian defense ministers signed a memorandum to establish a regional special operations command center which will plan and manage the Alliance’s special operations forces in the Black Sea region. In November 2024, the Nordic countries (Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland) signed a letter of intent stating their willingness to create such a corridor. 56.Also that month, Bulgaria, Greece, and Romania signed a letter of intent for a corridor that would permit direct access to southern Europe via the maritime port of Alexandroupolis.57

These various planned corridors could provide a blueprint for the future look of European military mobility.

These military mobility areas could theoretically allow for significant improvements and facilitate the movement of military forces between the different nations involved, as well as offer helpful options to transfer forces between northern and southern Europe. The additional corridor between Italy, Slovenia, Hungary, and Romania would potentially keep the road to Romania open in case of a blockade of the Eastern Mediterranean. Unfortunately, stringent regulation regarding the transport of hazardous material in Italy, in total disregard of EU regulations, could dramatically downsize the impact of this initiative.

Notably, these “corridors” are only an administrative development and have not improved infrastructure, as is often incorrectly portrayed. Nevertheless, the Netherlands-Germany-Poland initiative has the potential to become the model for streamlining cross-border procedures, if and only if its successors adopt the exact same requirements. Otherwise, we will end up with a dozen corridors, each with its own specific procedure.

Conclusion and recommendations

Given current geopolitical circumstances—despite the time required to update legislation in Europe, revise the Military Mobility Action Plan or design the EU’s multiannual financial framework 2028–2034—the EU should focus on enacting prompt, rapid solutions, many of which are outlined in this report.

The delays in developing military mobility should encourage every actor to keep prioritizing the issue. An economic reality as well as a military one, mobility is a perfect subject to become one of the first building blocks in the development of European strategic autonomy.

Recommendations

  1. Support the standardization of dual-use European rail cars (transport of personnel, wounded people, and equipment).
  2. Identify civilian warehouses that could be requisitioned in wartime.
  3. Define a genuine strategic framework for military mobility, fostering cross-border projects and ensuring that neglected but critical regions are not left aside.
  4. Work more closely with NATO when setting priorities and awarding grants to reinforce the overall coherence of the network.
  5. Renovate the EU application process to include a one-stop, lead decision-maker, to help implement an overall strategy; and strive to educate all nations participating in the EU and/or NATO, to achieve continental-scale military mobility effects.
  6. Dedicate part of the APMM budget to large-scale projects, targeted by the EUMS and NATO to bridge identified capability gaps.
  7. Increase the budget dedicated to the APMM to guarantee funding for large-scale projects and prevent the premature drying up of funds, leading to strategic imbalances.
  8. Include a list of operational shortcomings related to dual infrastructures in the joint EUMS/NATO assessment, to encompass the full spectrum of multinational missions in Europe.
  9. Organize a seminar on infrastructure linked to military mobility, jointly organized by the EUMS and NATO, to inform participants of existing funding mechanisms and the need for nations to be involved. To encourage synergy, the audience should include representatives of transport ministries and armed forces.
  10. Set up regular mobilization training events involving private companies.
  11. Nationally, foster a whole-of-government approach to military mobility in order to develop robust relationships between ministries.
  12. Identify key transport companies and encourage them to use container-compatible equipment.
  13. Identify a European budget for the development and acquisition of a standardized military flatcar to facilitate mobility by rail.
  14. Make European investment rules more flexible on military issues.
  15. Nationally, assess the interest in a transportation reserve that would be used as a pool for military strategic transportation.
  16. Expedite the digitization of EU 302 Form.
  17. Enforce a standard for NMCC that integrates all modes of transportation and centralizes the granting of movement credits. Those structures could also be audited by JSEC and MCCE to assess their readiness.
  18. Streamline the restriction on dangerous goods transport across the EU for military purposes.

Acknowledgements

This publication was funded by the European Union. Its contents are the sole responsibility of the authors, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the European Union. An earlier draft of this study was submitted as part of the European Commission’s targeted consultation on the military mobility package.

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1    Marcin Zaborowski, General Pavel Macko, and Karin Filkászová, Roads to Readiness: Military Mobility Infrastructure on NATO’s Eastern Flank, Globsec (think tank), June 13, 2025,
https://www.globsec.org/what-we-do/publications/roads-readiness-military-mobility-infrastructure-natos-eastern-flank.
2    Among Europe’s four largest armies—France, Germany, Poland, and Italy—the number of armored vehicle-launched bridges is very low. These systems, which enable armored or mechanized units to cross craters, ditches, small rivers, or rail tracks, are critical for mobility. Bridge-laying remains one of the most demanding missions for armored divisions, and current capabilities are uneven across these armies.
3    Military rail-repair capability is almost nonexistent in the Alliance. Only Italy has preserved this capacity with its active duty Reggimento Genio Ferrovieri, which is composed of five companies. Germany disbanded its rail engineer regiment in 1990, as did France in 2010. Even in the US Army, this capability is now held by a reserve unit.
4    The ratio of air defense artillery battalions per brigade is low across Europe, except for Germany, which has a ratio of air defense artillery per battalion higher than the US Army.
5    “Finland Hails Plan for Allies to Join NATO Land Forces on Its Soil,” Reuters, June 25, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/finland-hails-plan-allies-join-nato-land-forces-its-soil-2025-06-25/.
6    “France to Send Thousands of Troops to Romania for Major NATO Military Drills,” Radio France Internationale, October 10, 2024, https://www.rfi.fr/en/international/20241010-france-to-send-thousands-of-troops-to-romania-for-major-nato-military-exercise. Germany plans to permanently station 4,800 troops in Lithuania by 2027.
7    Ned Davies, Joshua Cheetham, and Matt Murphy, “Russian Naval Ship ‘Disguised’ Itself while Passing through English Channel,” BBC Verify, June 24, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c62gq6y62d1o.
8    “Statement by the North Atlantic Council on Recent Airspace Violations by Russia,” NATO, last updated September 23, 2025, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_237721.htm.
9    The summit declaration specifies “1.5% of GDP annually to inter alia protect our critical infrastructure, defend our networks, ensure our civil preparedness and resilience, unleash innovation, and strengthen our defense industrial base.” See “The Hague Summit Declaration,” June 25, 2025, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_236705.htm.
10    NATO is developing a customs document, Form 302, for cross-border movements of military goods.
11    “The RPPB recommends a NSIP ceiling of EUR 1,324.4 million in 2024, noting the planning figure of EUR 1,710.6 million for 2025 and that submitted requirements rise to EUR 3,565.3 million in 2028 and are projected to reach EUR 5,786.4 million in 2030.” See “The 2024–2028 Common Funding Resource Plan,” last updated September 27, 2023, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_217756.htm.
12    In terms of the future requirements identified by the Strategic Commands, the main forecasted expenditure relates to the Capability Program Plans for the Nuclear Consultation, Command and Control, for Air Basing, and for Maritime Facilities. These are aligned with the Digital Backbone and Readiness Key Requirement Areas, which were defined as priority by the Military Committee.” See “The 2025–2029 Common Funding Resource Plan,” NATO, July 18, 2024, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_228133.htm.
13    While these EU members are neither major military players, nor key transit countries for large troop movements, history shows that no ally should be disregarded. Their inclusion is both essential for the credibility of Europe’s cohesion and a matter of strategic realism. Malta, for example, remains a critical position for anyone seeking to control the Eastern Mediterranean.
14    As defined by the European Commission in “Trans-European Transport Network (TEN-T),” accessed October 2025, https://transport.ec.europa.eu/transport-themes/infrastructure-and-investment/trans-european-transport-network-ten-t_en.
15    The report defines military mobility as an “EU-wide network of land corridors, airports, seaports and support elements and services, that facilitate the seamless and fast transport of troops and military equipment across the EU and partner countries.” See White Paper for European Defence – Readiness 2030, European Commission, accessed October 22, 2025,  https://commission.europa.eu/document/download/e6d5db69-e0ab-4bec-9dc0-3867b4373019_en.
16    The Strategic Compass is a road map for the EU’s foreign and security policy that forms a collective threat assessment and implementation. The European Council adopted it on May 25, 2022. See: A Strategic Compass for Security and Defence, European Union External Action, n.d., accessed November 15, 2025, https://www.eeas.europa.eu/sites/default/files/documents/strategic_compass_en3_web.pdf.
17    “Action Plans on Military Mobility,” European Commission Industry and Space (website), accessed November 13, 2025. https://defence-industry-space.ec.europa.eu/eu-defence-industry/military-mobility_en.
18    “Targeted Consultation on Military Mobility Package,” European Commission Industry and Space (website), accessed November 13, 2025, https://defence-industry-space.ec.europa.eu/consultations/targeted-consultation-military-mobility-package_en.
19    NetLogHubs: Network of logistics hubs in Europe and Support to Operations.
20     Dwight D. Eisenhower, “Remarks at the National Defense Executive Reserve Conference,” November 14, 1957, via “The American Presidency Project” (website), University of California, Santa Barbara,    https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/remarks-the-national-defense-executive-reserve-conference.
21    HESTIA 25: La France teste sa capacité à accueillir massivement ses alliés (France Tests Its Capacity for Massive-scale Hosting of Its Allies),” French Ministry of the Armed Forces,  March 28, 2025, https://www.defense.gouv.fr/ema/actualites/hestia-25-france-teste-sa-capacite-accueillir-massivement-ses-allies.
22    Karin Smit Jacobs, “Chinese Strategic Interests in European Ports,” At a Glance (brief),European Parliament Research Service, February 2023, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/thinktank/en/document/EPRS_ATA(2023)739367.
23    Léonie Allard, “Own and Control:  China’s Systemic Approach to Global Shipping,” China Trends no. 20:  Critical Infrastructure and Power Games in EU-China Relations,Institut Montaigne: (June 2024), https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/china-trends-20-critical-infrastructures-and-power-games-eu-china-relations.
24    https://www.clingendael.org/publication/chinas-strategic-relevance-port-rotterdam
25    US House Committee on Homeland Security, “WTAS: Joint Investigation into CCP-Backed Company Supplying Cranes to U.S. Ports Reveals Shocking Findings,” March 12, 2024,  https://homeland.house.gov/2024/03/12/wtas-joint-investigation-intoccp-backed-company-supplying-cranes-to-u-s-ports-reveals-shocking-findings/.
26    These operators are Deutsche Bahn (Germany), SNCF (France), and Trenitalia (Italy)
27    Wiktor Biernikowicz, “Rail Transport in NATO’s Logistics System: The Case of Poland,” European Research Studies Journal XXIV, Special Issue 1 (2021): 748–61, https://doi.org/10.35808/ersj/2071.
28    A NATO Response Measure is a tool used by SACEUR to request actions from member states.
29    The French high velocity train (aka TGV), with its capacity for 510 passengers, can only transport forty-eight wounded people, for example.
30    Biernikowicz, “Rail Transport.”
31    Independent Regulator Group-Rail, “Annual Market Monitoring Report,” Independent Regulator Group-Rail, a network of European regulators, April 2023, 8.
32    Action Plan on Military Mobility 2.0.
33    The first Action Plan of 2018 assessed existing civilian network transport infrastructures with a view to their use for military purposes. The EU tasked its military staff with providing an assessment of operational necessity of infrastructure upgrade based on two criteria. The first is the project’s contribution to strengthening the EU’s strategic deployment, and the second is whether the project, on a local scale, fills the gaps identified by the member state in question. This assessment enables the creation of a budget dedicated to strengthening dual-use infrastructure.
34    The amount represents a downgrade. The EU Commission initially proposed €6.5 billion for military mobility in the 2021–2027 MFF, while the final endorsed budget was slashed to €1.69 billion.
35    The two are a rail project to connect Finland and Sweden, and a design phase for a bridge over the Danube to link Bulgaria and Romania.
36    “EU Military Mobility Not Yet in the Fast Lane,” European Court of Auditors, May 2, 2025, https://www.eca.europa.eu/en/news/news-sr-2025-04.
37    The multiannual financial framework (MFF) of the European Union is essentially the EU’s long-term budget, which sets limits on annual spending for a period of usually seven years.
38    Atlantic Resolve designates US Armed Forces deployments in Europe in response to Russian operations in Ukraine and has been doing so since 2014.
39    At the start of the nineteenth century, civilian horse carts supported armies, transporting supplies and artillery. Napoleon partially militarized logistics after private companies failed. In 1914 and 1939, civilian transport—including horses, trains, and motor vehicles—was essential. In 1939, for example, the French company Calberson fully mobilized to help move millions of conscripts and their equipment.
40    Foreign companies operating in France through a subsidiary, for instance, are subject to French defense legislation, including requisition provisions under the Code de la défense.
41    This was one of the major lessons learned from the French large-scale and interservice exercise ORION in 2023.
42    The scope is: “in case of threat, current or foreseeable, weighting on the essentials activities of the Nation.” See Pascal Dupont, “L’indispensable réforme des réquisitions du code de la défense,” Institut de relations internationales et stratégiques, November 2024, https://www.iris-france.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/ProgIndusDef_2024_11_Reforme_Code_Defense_Note.pdf.
43    WiSiG is an abbreviation of Wirtschaftssicherstellungsgesetz (Economic Security Assurance Act).
44    Pål Jonson (minister of defense of Sweden), “Total Defense Bill 2025-2030,” Swedish Pub. L. No. Prop. 2024-25: 34 (2024), https://www.government.se/contentassets/5c98b885c2cc40d58aa3693d34d915d3/totalforsvaret-20252030-prop.-20242534.pdf.
45    European Automobile Manufacturers’ Association, Vehicles in Use in Europe 2023, January 2023, ACEA, https://www.acea.auto/files/ACEA-report-vehicles-in-use-europe-2023.pdf.
46    EUROSTAT, “Freight Transported in Containers: Statistics on Unitisation,” March 2024, https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/statistics-explained/index.php?title=Freight_transported_in_containers_-_statistics_on_unitisation.
47     International Road Transport Union, “Global Truck Driver Shortage to Double by 2028,” January 23, 2025, https://www.iru.org/news-resources/newsroom/global-truck-driver-shortage-double-2028-says-new-iru-report.
48    Pierre Vandier, “Comment l’armée tire parti de la révolution numérique (How the Military is Taking Advantage of the Digital Revolution),” Harvard Business Review FRANCE, May 29, 2024, https://www.hbrfrance.fr/innovation/comment-larmee-tire-parti-de-la-revolution-numerique-60585; Admiral Vandier of France now serves as NATO’s supreme allied commander transformation
49    Georgia Butler, “The US Defense Logistics Agency Has Signed a $48 Million Contract with Google Cloud: Google Public Sector Will Provide an AI-ready Cloud Foundation to the DLA  Sector,” September 1, 2025, https://www.datacenterdynamics.com/en/news/us-defense-logistics-agency-signs-48m-cloud-contract-with-google-cloud/.
50    “AWS Showcases Generative AI for Real-time Military Logistics,” Defense News, October 3, 2025, https://www.defensenews.com/video/2025/10/03/aws-showcases-generative-ai-for-real-time-military-logistics/.
51    The ATHENA program, integrating cloud and edge computing, aims to establish a “digital depot” and modernize AFSC operations, aligning with the Air Force’s strategy to transform maintenance and logistics. See Air Force Sustainment Center Strategic Plan, 2025, 18,  https://www.afsc.af.mil/Portals/24/documents/2025%20AFSC%20Strategic%20Plan.pdf.
52    Luc Vanbockryck, “Call for NATO-EU MILMOB Coordination,” Letter, September 27, 2024; Major General Vanbockryck is director of NATO’s Logistics and Resources Division.
53    “Joint Report to the European Parliament and the Council on the Implementation of the Action Plan on Military Mobility 2.0,” European Commission, March 20, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/HTML/?uri=CELEX:52025JC0011.
54    Daniel Tilles, “Agreement on ‘Military Schengen’ Easing Troop Movement Signed by Poland, Germany and Netherlands,” Notes From Poland (blog), January 31, 2024, https://notesfrompoland.com/2024/01/31/agreement-on-military-schengen-easing-troop-movement-signed-by-poland-germany-and-netherlands/.
55    Republic of Albania Ministry of Defense, “Albania, Italy, Bulgaria and North Macedonia Sign in Washington the Document on Military Mobility along Corridor VIII,” Thursday, July 11, 2024,https://www.mod.gov.al/eng/newsroom/1647-albania-italy-bulgaria-and-north-macedonia-sign-in-washington-the-document-on-military-mobility-along-corridor-viii.
57    Romania Ministry of Defense, “Letter of Intent Signed Romania, Bulgaria and Greece for the Creation of a Military Mobility Corridor,” Press Release, July 11, 2024, https://english.mapn.ro/cpresa/6299_Letter-of-Intent-signed-Romania,-Bulgaria-and-Greece-for-the-creation-of-a-Military-Mobility-Corridor-.

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Colombia needs a strong private sector—and renewed government institutions at the helm https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/colombia-needs-strong-private-sectorgovernment-institutions/ Fri, 19 Dec 2025 17:10:35 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893865 Colombia’s institutions brought stability, yet corruption, insecurity, and widespread informality still undermine trust and limit prosperity. Renewed fiscal discipline, stronger territorial governance, and revived institutional dialogue are essential for translating Colombia’s hard-won freedoms into inclusive and enduring growth.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The foundations of Colombia’s 1991 constitution, including an autonomous central bank and fiscal discipline, have maintained macroeconomic stability despite political volatility.
  • Corruption and the rise of illicit economies continue to erode governance and public trust, particularly in rural regions.
  • Restoring fiscal discipline and consolidating territorial control are essential to transforming economic stability into long-term national security.

This is the second chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

Between 1995 and 2025, Colombia has gone through five institutional phases. Each phase could be characterized by progress and tension, where advances in democracy, improvements in the rule of law, and economic openness were frequently challenged by fiscal limits, political crises, and persistent inequality and informality.

The rooting period (1991–2002)

A fresh chapter of institutional development arrived in Colombia during the early 1990s. The 1991 constitution emerged from a collective determination to eliminate centralism and violence through establishing a participatory and decentralized state which protected rights for all. Social and cultural rights were integrated into the legal framework along with expanded civic freedoms. In addition, the government in the 1990s initiated structural market reforms which included trade liberalization, financial system modernization, and the establishment of an autonomous central bank to manage inflation and create responsible and prudent macroeconomic policies.

Colombia earned economic policy credibility from these reforms which established fiscal and monetary stability for three decades. Nevertheless, these reforms produced a paradox within the country: The economic liberalization process outpaced the transformation of the country’s productive base. As many authors, such as Juan Carlos Echeverry, have noticed, Colombia opened international trade doors without having first constructed its economic base. The nation developed openness, but industries remained defenseless, and infrastructure remained behind. On the other side, the constitution guaranteed a wide range of rights (related to health, education, justice, and more) which had to be funded and created ongoing fiscal burdens exceeding the state’s financial resources. In the 1990s, Colombia emerged as a nation with promising reforms, but its ambitions outpaced its capabilities. This is the tension in which Colombia has operated for many years.


Security and stabilization (2003–2015)

Between 2003 and 2015, Colombia experienced a phase of security along with stabilization. The country managed to regain territorial authority from insurgent forces while attaining public trust in its institutional structures. The government’s “democratic security” strategy was combined with macroeconomic discipline to create a virtuous cycle of investor return, economic growth, and advancement in the rule of law.

During this time, institutional development advanced significantly in response to various policies. A fiscal rule was established while the central bank kept its independence and debt remained controlled. Changes among political ruling parties in Colombia continued without violence while international observers recognized the country’s democratic progress. However, structural problems remained hidden. The security improvements brought undeniable benefits to Colombia, but fighting insurgent forces led to human rights violations that damaged the country’s legitimacy and ability to govern. Colombia made progress on security but failed to improve equality and strengthen its institutions.

Polarization and the post-peace era (2016–2020)

The third stage in modern Colombian history began with the 2016 Peace Agreement, which put an end to fighting with FARC, the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, the country’s largest guerrilla force. The peace agreement meant to unite society but instead divided it more deeply. The national plebiscite opposition to the agreement, together with its congressional approval, created an impression that the government had disregarded public opinion.

The government could not maintain the ambitious goals of the peace agreement because it lacked sustainable implementation capacity. The implementation of programs for rural reform and reintegration and financial support for these programs remained insufficient. Progress on truth, justice, and reparation was also uneven. At the same time, non-repetition mechanisms—designed to prevent former combatant or affiliated groups from committing the same crimes and to reduce the likelihood of renewed violence—were only partially carried out. Meanwhile regional territorial conflicts increased as coca production grew (due to the dismantling of aerial coca fumigation), and new criminal organizations appeared. The anticipated “post-conflict” situation was instead a reshuffling of existing threats. By 2020, people in Colombia had grown exhausted and increasingly disappointed that the global celebrations of peace appeared so distant from their actual experiences.

Pandemic and social unrest (2020–2022)

The fourth phase revolves mostly around the COVID-19 pandemic. Although Colombia managed to avoid major economic and social setbacks through its proactive countercyclical economic approach, the pandemic nonetheless revealed structural weaknesses of inequality and informality, which led to multiple indicators falling before they partially recovered in 2021 and 2022. The impact of COVID-19 pushed more people into informal work while increasing poverty and inequality and reducing the number of available jobs. The result was diminished economic freedom. The public protests, in part triggered by illegal support and tax increases announced in the wake of the pandemic, revealed deep societal inequalities and perceptions of corruption and political manipulation. These combined to damage institutional trust, hindering investor confidence and consequently the economy.

Uncertainty and political confrontation (2022–2025)

The fifth phase covers the developments since 2022. The current political environment is marked by a confrontational atmosphere, which disrupted consensus-building efforts and created conditions that decreased investment potential and caused institutional uncertainty that destroyed trust in all government institutions. Since 2022, Colombia has faced fresh difficulties caused by inadequate and debatable policies on energy, public services, education, pensions, health, taxes, and land that drive political polarization and create economic instability. The decline of institutional dialogue has diminished investor trust and created uncertainty about Colombia’s future course while democracy persists. The current state of ideological conflict has displaced the practical economic management approach that used to guide the country’s economic affairs. Colombia now confronts the dual challenge of building trust between government and markets and connecting its citizens with their representative institutions.

The 1991 constitution established institutional structures which form one of Colombia’s most valuable assets. The Acción de Tutela gave citizens legal tools to protect their rights, and decentralization increased local government accountability, capacities, and options. The central bank’s autonomy enabled uninterrupted monetary and exchange rate policy and protected the nation from the populist cycles that ravaged most regions on the continent.

But legal systems cannot ensure freedom by themselves. Governance remains weak due to corruption, excessive regulations, and persistent informalities and social inequalities. Over 55 percent of workers remain outside the formal economy, and millions of firms are microbusinesses with low levels of formality, undermining tax collection and labor protections. Colombia needs to protect its democratic institutions while extending institutional benefits to formalize the excluded population.


Over 55 percent of workers remain outside the formal economy … undermining tax collection and labor protections.

The security situation represents the second vital point in Colombia’s recent timeline. During the 1990s, the Colombian state faced three concurrent threats from drug cartels, guerrilla insurgents, and armed groups that fought for territory; used kidnapping, extortion, and narcotrafficking to fund their operations; and exported large-scale violence to cities. The homicide rate ticked up, and many people were forced to abandon their homes. Business owners lost their local enterprises and had to defend themselves because municipal authority disappeared from vast sections of the country. By 2005, Colombia regained its administrative control and normalized daily activities, which permitted people to travel more freely, reduced transportation expenses, and extended investor horizons. Companies prospered under fiscal discipline and macroeconomic stability, which directed workers toward new regions for economic enterprise.

Over the course of three decades of social and economic development, women gained visibility and access to opportunities in both the public and private sector. Women’s participation in the workforce increased as did leadership diversity and social policies aimed at gender balance. The boost in household earnings together with more stable societies proved that inclusive growth strengthens both economic prosperity and social freedom.

The business environment in Colombia developed according to its political dynamics. Institutional predictability and consistent rules produced the best investment conditions from mid-2010-2020s. The trust in Colombia has been diminished by inconsistent policies and growing polarization since 2022. The business community shows apprehension toward taxation due to its inconsistent design and enforcement.

The country’s most effective reforms happened when governmental authorities joined forces with business leaders and academic experts to craft public policy that integrated regulatory, infrastructure, and labor initiatives to achieve common goals. Economic strategy has lost cohesion because the dialogue that used to inform it has diminished. Because freedom and prosperity depend on a foundation of predictability, the loss of predictability stands as the most critical institutional threat facing Colombia in the short term.

Colombia’s democracy has shown more stability compared to other regional nations, but 2016–18 marked a fundamental change. The nation experienced a rapid deterioration of political rights and a decline in civil liberties during this time frame. The rejection of the peace agreement in the plebiscite triggered political polarization, which worsened after congressional ratification of the plan. This resulted in widespread public concern about the institutional bypassing of political processes. During this period, both cocaine cultivation and illegal mining activities expanded while violence shifted its operational patterns and power dynamics among different actors. The political rights indicator shows further deterioration during the 2020 emergency period, which also witnessed social uprisings, but there was some improvement in 2021–22 once restrictions were lifted.

At present, legal operations are restricted in Colombia because of two fundamental elements. Most labor markets and business activities operate predominantly beyond the formal sector. The rule of law, measured by the legal subindex, experienced a rapid increase in 2014–15, followed by a dramatic decline. Formalization efforts expanded when security conditions improved, and economic activity rose only to retreat once economic performance declined and labor costs increased. Research shows that greater informality reduces enforcement capacity as well as social insurance coverage and tax revenue. Corruption and bureaucratic scandals from 2010 to 2018 reduced judicial public trust, and illegal activities in unregulated territories eroded local government authority.

Inequality, widespread informality, and growing insecurity … had been eroding democratic rights well before the pandemic triggered massive job losses and overwhelmed public services.


Governance quality worsened during these processes even though other sectors showed signs of improvement. While problems existed before the pandemic, COVID-19 made them more apparent. Social unrest spiked sharply in 2019, subsided during COVID-19 lockdowns, and intensified again in 2021. Data reveal that political freedom declined both before and after COVID-19. Yet the underlying causes—rising inequality, widespread informality, and growing insecurity—had been eroding democratic rights well before the pandemic triggered massive job losses and overwhelmed public services. The political situation since 2022 has been more confrontational, hindering consensus-building between government, business, and academic partners and stirring tensions between autonomous institutions and regulatory bodies. The key goal of economic recovery requires the establishment of stable economic directions along with trustworthy dialogue mechanisms that will rebuild private-sector confidence and restore normal market expectations.

Evolution of prosperity

Freedom and prosperity in Colombia have developed concurrently, although their progression has never been perfectly aligned. The 1990s and 2000s market liberalization, alongside expanded rights in the new constitution of 1991 and fiscal and monetary discipline, created the foundation for Colombia’s largest social change in contemporary history. The nation’s average per capita income tripled while poverty dropped by 20 percentage points and life expectancy increased by around ten years. This growth, however, contained a key warning since its uneven distribution meant delayed economic benefits for many Colombians. The clear lesson was that growth without fairness damages society just as severely as economic stagnation.

The inequality trap

Between 2005 and 2016, many observers believed Colombia had entered a positive feedback loop.1 Economic growth remained healthy while job creation improved, and social programs reduced extreme poverty levels. Market freedom finally found a way to work harmoniously with social policy to benefit society.

People will tolerate slow economic growth, but they will refuse to support a system that fails to reward hard work or equitable treatment.

After 2016, the positive cycle started to break down. Economic growth decreased, and productivity reforms came to a halt while the wealth gap between rural and urban Colombia remained the same. Informal employment increased yet again while people lost hope for their future because inequality returned to its former levels. Then the pandemic struck, revealing structural defects the country had delayed addressing. Education interruptions, female job losses, and strained public finances pushed the country to its limits.

The 2021 protests were triggered by discontent over taxes, but they served to express people’s deeper sense of exclusion. Many Colombians felt that prosperity had become an exclusive privilege rather than a universal promise. The widespread perception damaged people’s trust in democracy and transformed economic inequality into a political moral crisis. People will tolerate slow economic growth, but they will refuse to support a system that fails to reward hard work or equitable treatment.

Colombia achieved indisputable progress through its recognition of Indigenous and Afro-descendant community rights. However, many of these advancements failed to deliver real benefits in practice. From 2010 to 2020, minority inclusion freedom indicators experienced a decline. The absence of governmental security in peripheral regions, combined with ongoing displacement and illegal expansions of mining and drug production, continue to drive social marginalization.

The disconnect between greater formal rights and stagnant living conditions is clearly visible. For many Colombians, equality before the law failed to translate to real equality of opportunities. The main takeaway is that inclusion demands more than official recognition; it requires continuous financing for education, infrastructure, and peacekeeping that creates national investment incentives for all territories.

Since 2018, Colombia has received over two million Venezuelan migrants. Managing this massive influx tested national institutions but also brought new energy, talent, and entrepreneurship to Colombian society. Border communities became overburdened because social services reached their limits. The “Temporary Protection Statute” along with other pragmatic policies transformed what could have been a humanitarian crisis into a demographic boon over time. Formal labor market workers contributed to the economy through tax payments while bringing new and energetic workforce potential. Amid regional tendencies to respond with populist fervor, Colombia demonstrated a distinct approach that blended openness with strategic foresight. Institutional flexibility combined with inclusiveness demonstrated that migration could be a driver of renewal instead of instability.

Colombia has achieved one of its most remarkable successes through environmental policy initiatives. From 2010 through the early 2020s, Colombia transitioned from setting green targets to producing tangible achievements. The economic policy established through CONPES 3934 (2018) and CONPES 4075 (2022) proved that green growth had become an integral economic plan instead of merely aspirational.

The addition of electric vehicle incentives, together with renewable energy auctions in La Guajira and enhanced prosecution of illegal mining, transformed environmental defense into a core competitiveness element. Mercury emissions decreased while wind and solar power capacity expanded, and the nation began perceiving sustainability as an advantage rather than a limitation. Although environmental issues such as deforestation remain, Colombia has advanced to where economic and environmental goals are more in sync.

Human development presents the clearest demonstration of how freedom relates to prosperity. People in Colombia have experienced longer lifespans and enhanced health outcomes over the past three decades. Infant mortality rates dropped dramatically while literacy rates increased, and healthcare access became almost universal. As a result of the 1993 and 2011 reforms, Colombia’s health care systems transformed to become one of Latin America’s most comprehensive.

Education in Colombia remains divided: Urban schools have developed quickly but rural areas continue to lag behind. Digital access and trained teachers remain scarce in many classrooms while educational results show significant differences across regions. The pandemic intensified educational inequalities, emphasizing to policymakers that offering coverage without proper quality or relevance is insufficient. Future development requires better integration between educational systems and productive sectors to create job opportunities which could also lead to social stability.

The path forward

Colombia is approaching a critical point which will define its future direction. Thirty years of institutional advancement delivered stability alongside credibility, yet the country continues to struggle with social inequality, economic informality, and declining public trust. Challenges arose after 2016, when investment diminished, economic growth declined, and political polarization intensified. But the real issue is greater than Colombia’s ability to grow: The crucial challenge is to achieve inclusive growth that transforms freedom into equal prosperity.

The foundation of prosperity rests on establishing stable public finances. After the necessary spending during the pandemic period and the increase in public debt, Colombia started to make a fiscal adjustment which was successfully implemented between 2020 and 2023. However, since then, public debt and the fiscal deficit have risen high enough to make investors nervous. As a result, Colombia needs an effective reform that expands the taxpayer base while making compliance easier; it should also eliminate tax benefits that favor a select few while preserving support for small regional businesses.

The restoration of fiscal rules (which were suspended in 2025) would demonstrate Colombia’s commitment to disciplined governance while enhancing market and public confidence in the country’s fiscal management. Decentralized fiscal authority with proper accountability mechanisms would enable state institutions to connect with citizens more effectively while distributing growth benefits more fairly.

Peacebuilding requires more than negotiation-based approaches while demanding consistent territorial governance. Large rural areas of Colombia still live under alternative and illegal power systems that impose fear instead of upholding legal authority. Road construction alongside internet connectivity and new schools serve as development tools which could also be useful in strengthening citizenship.

Government investments in infrastructure yielded clear advancements across Antioquia, the coffee region, and parts of the Caribbean region in the form of decreased violence, increased job opportunities, and population retention. Security improves only when people have access to opportunities to replace coercive systems. The practical and moral lesson that emerges is that prosperity requires peace, and peace demands governance from a state whose presence is felt where people reside.

Informality blocks the path that unites freedom with a prosperous future. More than 50 percent of Colombian workers lack contracts and protections since they work outside the formal system. The workplace formalization process would be achievable by easing procedures and reducing labor expenses and modernizing ways to connect workers with employers.

Simultaneously, Colombia needs to transition from an extraction-based economy to an innovation-driven economic model. Productivity functions as the link between immediate economic recovery efforts and enduring prosperity. This requires industry-university coordination along with technological implementation support and local business development investment. Subsidies will not reduce inequality nor sustain freedom because productivity growth serves as the fundamental solution.

Colombia’s greatest challenge, however, springs not from fiscal concerns but from the political domain. The current political division has turned policy discussions into entrenched conflicts, making compromise look like weakness. Future development in Colombia depends on institutional pragmatism, which requires leaders to prioritize results over political statements.

Non-negotiables must be to protect the independence of the central bank and to maintain the autonomy of courts and oversight agencies. Dialogue between government, business, and civil society needs to be reestablished through structured channels. Economic freedom depends not only on predictable rules for investors but also on the social contract that allows it to endure. Transparent institutional operations promote both economic and public trust.

Non-negotiables must be to protect the independence of the central bank and to maintain the autonomy of courts and oversight agencies.

The transition toward clean energy creates difficulties while promising new possibilities. Even though oil and gas continue to generate substantial government revenue, Colombia possesses vast renewable energy potential. The appropriate approach involves slow and responsible market transition combined with building new industries based on sustainable agriculture, clean energy, and ecotourism while preserving fiscal stability.

Environmental stewardship could become a competitive advantage when established through consistent regulations and patient investment. Colombia is endowed with geographical diversity, biodiversity, and abundant water resources that would enable green industries to thrive—as long as institutions remain constant, regulations are simplified, and public-private partnerships are strengthened.

Throughout the thirty-year period from 1995 to 2025, Colombia has been trying to balance its aspirations against its limitations. It strengthened its democracy and opened the economy, but it continues to battle persistent problems of inequality, informality, and insecurity. Freedom in the country has never been fixed since each generation must labor to preserve and renew it.

The next chapter depends on Colombia’s ability to tether freedom to present-day opportunities. Achieving fiscal stability together with security systems, educational advancement, and institutional trust is a moral obligation essential for democratic success. Once trust returns to citizens and government bodies, between investors and institutions, and among regions with their central authorities, Colombia will convert its practical liberty to enduring economic prosperity.

The future direction of the nation depends on making decisions between opposing forces, including confrontation versus consensus, populism versus pragmatism, and empty rhetoric versus courageous social and economic reforms. With the right decisions, Colombia can become an example of democratic stability and inclusive development throughout the Americas.

about the author

José Manuel Restrepo is an economist, academic leader, and former public servant with experience in education management and economic policy. He has served as president (rector) in Universidad EIA, Universidad del Rosario, and CESA Business School in Bogotá. He held cabinet roles as Colombia’s minister of commerce, industry and tourism and later as minister of finance and public credit. He holds a master’s degree in economics from the London School of Economics and a Ph.D. in management from the University of Bath.

A strong advocate for innovation, sustainability, and institutional ethics, Restrepo has championed policies such as the Entrepreneurship Law, Green Sovereign Bonds, and the modernization of Free Trade Zones 4.0. His leadership experience extends to academia, government, and business, where he seeks to foster collaboration as a means to turn policy into progress. As a frequent speaker and columnist, he reflects on productivity, education, and governance, emphasizing that economic progress must always serve people.

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1    Otaviano Canuto and Diana Quintero, “Colombia: Getting Peace, Getting Growth,” Policy Center for the New South, March 23, 2017, https://www.policycenter.ma/blog/colombia-getting-peace-getting-growth; avid Felipe Perez, “After a Decade of Growth and Political Stability, It’s Time to Invest in Colombia’s Future,” World Finance, accessed [insert access date], https://www.worldfinance.com/wealth-management/after-a-decade-of-growth-and-political-stability-its-time-to-invest-in-colombias-future.

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Narrating the war: Analyzing Russia’s narratives for its invasion of Ukraine https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/russia-tomorrow/narrating-the-war-analyzing-russias-narratives-for-its-invasion-of-ukraine/ Fri, 19 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=894342 The latest report in the Atlantic Council's Russia Tomorrow series examines the Kremlin's narratives about its invasion of Ukraine.

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Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 challenged much of the common Western understanding of Russia. How can the world better understand Russia? What are the steps forward for Western policy? The Eurasia Center’s “Russia Tomorrow” series seeks to reevaluate conceptions of Russia today and better prepare for its future tomorrow.

Table of contents

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has been, by any metric, a strategic nightmare for Moscow. Not only has Russia lost more soldiers in Ukraine than in any war since World War II—and might well end up losing more troops than the United States lost during the entirety of WWII—but the Russian economy has lurched between overheating and stagflation. All the while, the Kremlin’s decision to expand its invasion of Ukraine has resulted in a NATO both enlarged and enhanced; in Russia’s transition from regional hegemon to a “junior partner” (and even potential vassal) of China; in waning influence in places such as the South Caucasus, the Middle East, Africa, and Europe; and the creation of a heavily armed, deeply resentful neighbor in Ukraine, which will see Kyiv nurse both an animus toward Russia and a desire to reclaim much of the occupied territories for years to come.

The entire war has been an exercise in Russian myopia, accelerating Russian decline and leading to a broad range of self-inflicted wounds. Mirroring other neo-colonial wars—France in Algeria, the Netherlands in Indonesia, Portugal in southern Africa—the war has exposed Russia as a pretender to great-power status and a shell of a once-swaggering empire. While Moscow might yet gain more towns scattered throughout Ukraine’s eastern Donbas region, any remaining victories will remain pyrrhic, with Russia continuing to sacrifice its future prospects for any present gains.

Much of Russia’s failure rests on Ukrainians’ ongoing sacrifices, as well as on the broader West’s willingness to back Ukraine’s troops. But a great deal of this disaster also stems from a series of muddled narratives that Russia has peddled about precisely why it launched the expanded invasion in the first place. Pushing a sprawling, occasionally contradictory series of goals and rationales, and without a clear narrative push to consolidate either support or success, Moscow has flailed for years, lurching from one rationale to another—all while its troops continue dying en masse and its domestic population continues to feel escalating pain and stress as the war drags on.

Given all of the competing claims Moscow has put forth to defend its invasion of Ukraine, it is worth analyzing how the Kremlin has justified its expanded war and how Moscow has tried to sell the deadliest war Europe has seen since the days of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. Such analysis can not only help Western allies of Ukraine figure out how best to back Kyiv’s efforts but can provide a roadmap for sounder Russia policy in the West overall. In sifting and sorting these narratives, we can identify precisely what is motivating the Kremlin—and, better yet, how to stop it.

Selling the war

The Kremlin’s public rationales for its war in Ukraine fall into two broad buckets.

The first rests directly on Russia’s relationship with Ukraine, focusing specifically on the links, both historic and contemporary, between Moscow and Kyiv. The narratives focused specifically on Ukraine, and on Russians’ relationships with Ukrainians, can be broken down further into three primary prongs.

  1. The Ukraine war is primarily about “rescuing” Russians and Russian speakers, especially (but not exclusively) in eastern and southern Ukraine. This is primarily predicated on the idea that Ukraine is overseen by “fascists” and “Nazis,” who have been in power since the 2014 Euromaidan “coup.”
  2. Russia and Ukraine are actually “brotherly” nations, and Ukrainians are simply “confused” about their relationship as subalterns to Russia. This is primarily predicated on the idea that Ukraine is simply “Little Russia,” part of the “triune state” of Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine—and, naturally, not part of the West. The war is simply about restoring that Ukrainian status. It is also about restoring Russia’s colonial control of Ukraine and keeping Ukraine as an entity subservient to Russia.
  3. “Ukraine” does not actually exist but is a Leninist fabrication. This is predicated on the idea that Vladimir Lenin and other Soviet leadership were mistaken to draw any internal, republican borders within the Soviet Union—and that the entire “near abroad” is rightfully Russian. The war is about rectifying this Leninist mistake.

However, the Kremlin’s rhetoric explaining its war in Ukraine has often expanded far beyond Ukraine itself. Indeed, while the fighting might take place largely on Ukrainian (and occasionally Russian) territory, the Kremlin has often claimed that the war is both global and epochal, linked directly to the second broad bucket of narratives and focused on the status of Russia’s global standing. Those narratives centering on Russia’s role in the broader international context, as well as the creation of a new geopolitical order, can also be broken down into three primary threads.

  1. This war is primarily about beating back NATO and Western expansion. NATO “pledged” in 1990 that it would not expand its borders, and this war is simply about forcing NATO to uphold that pledge. This war is a “defensive” war, aimed at preventing Russian “encirclement.”
  2. This war is about the non-Western world standing up to Western bullying, hypocrisy, and decadence. Russia is at the vanguard of the non-Western world’s fight against Western “colonialism,” trying to restore “traditional values” that the West is attempting to destroy around the world.
  3. This war is about restoring Russia’s status as a “great power,” both in Europe and globally. It is primarily about ushering in a “multipolar” world, with other “civilization-states” such as China and India rising to parity with the United States.

None of the narratives above are mutually exclusive. Indeed, one of the difficulties in assessing these narrative components is the multiple instances of reinforcing themes and topics. For example, the idea that Russia and Ukraine are brotherly nations—or even the notion that Ukraine does not exist—can be directly tethered to the idea that NATO must never extend to Ukraine and that the war is necessarily defensive. The false claim that Ukraine’s 2014 revolution was in reality a coup is also often paired with the idea that the war is about rolling back Western influence and meddling in non-Western nations. These narratives can often work in conjunction—and are often included in the same speeches and writings from Russian President Vladimir Putin and his allies.

Adding to the difficulty, many of these narratives are also in tension with one another. For example, Putin wrote at length about the supposed brotherly relationship between Ukraine and Russia, yet he has simultaneously claimed that Ukraine is a mere fabrication set to be annulled. Likewise, the idea that this is somehow an anti-colonial war grates against the claim that some countries are civilization-states destined to rule over smaller nations.

Still, each of these narratives is worth analyzing on its own. The remainder of this paper will be dedicated to just that: detailing the primary contours of each of these narratives, as well as offering analysis (and often corrections) therein. The paper will also offer a brief conclusion about what these competing and contradictory narratives reveal about Russia’s aims—and how best to combat Russian expansionism in Ukraine and elsewhere.

Russia’s relationship with Ukraine

  1. The Ukraine war is primarily about “rescuing” Russians and Russian speakers, especially (but not exclusively) in eastern and southern Ukraine. This is primarily predicated on the idea that Ukraine is overseen by “fascists” and “Nazis,” who have been in power since the 2014 Euromaidan “coup.”

Details

One of the primary narratives that Russia has relied on since its expanded invasion did not originate in February 2022, or even in the months beforehand. It instead traces back to at least early 2014, when Ukrainian protesters successfully ousted former President Viktor Yanukovych in the democratic Euromaidan Revolution—and when Putin launched Russia’s initial invasion of Ukraine in Crimea and parts of the Donbas.

At its simplest, Russia’s post-Euromaidan narrative boiled down to the idea that the Ukrainian protesters were illegitimate usurpers, ousting a democratically elected leader and instituting a new regime dedicated not only to wresting Ukraine out of Moscow’s orbit but focused especially on the immiseration of Russians and Russian speakers. The “junta” responsible for this “coup” was secretly in hock to its “real masters in the West,” who were simply using Ukraine and its post-2014 government as a means of targeting Russia and Russian interests. In this view, these new Ukrainian leaders—including Volodymyr Zelenskyy—should be considered fascists and Nazis, simply because they were opposed to Russia writ large, whether that meant not recognizing Russia’s claims to Crimea or encouraging the use of the Ukrainian language throughout the country.

According to Russia, this supposed junta continued its persecution for years until things reached a breaking point in early 2022. That February, Moscow was supposedly forced to invade Ukraine for the express protection of Russians in regions like eastern Ukraine. As Putin claimed, Russia did not need to annex any further parts of Ukraine, but authorities in Kyiv needed to recognize the nominal independence of both the Donetsk People’s Republic and Luhansk People’s Republic—building upon previous demands that these entities must also have a veto over Kyiv’s foreign policy decisions. According to Moscow, Ukraine also needed to renounce any fascist or Nazi leaders and sympathies forevermore.

As Putin said during his address announcing the expanded invasion, “The purpose of this operation is to protect people who, for eight years now, have been facing humiliation and genocide perpetrated by the Kiev regime.” As he added in 2025, the crisis did not begin with Russia’s invasion but was the “result of the coup d’etat in Ukraine, which was supported and provoked by the West.” More specifically, Putin said in 2022 that Russia’s expanded invasion was a direct response to the “tragedy” in the Donbas. As Tass reported, Putin told a twelve-year-old girl that Ukraine’s “bombardments, artillery strikes and combat operations” in Donetsk and Luhansk “compelled Russia to start this military operation.”

Putin’s rhetoric also built on this narrative to call for the notion of “denazifying” Ukraine. As he memorably claimed during his February 2022 address, Russia would “seek to demilitarize and denazify Ukraine, as well as bring to trial those who perpetrated numerous bloody crimes against civilians, including against citizens of the Russian Federation.” The Russian Foreign Ministry and the Russian ambassador to the United Nations echoed this language.

Analysis

The idea that Russia needed to invade Ukraine in order to rescue compatriots and remove Nazi elements from Ukraine’s leadership is, to outside observers, perhaps the most farcical of the narratives detailed here. The notion that Ukraine—whose president is Jewish—requires denazification was immediately met with ridicule and mockery. However, this argument also provided a sense of flexibility for Putin. After all, it remains unclear what denazification would actually entail—whether regime change, full lustration, the ending of any pro-Western trajectory policies, a mix of these options, or something else entirely. Likewise, the call has a clear domestic component, with Putin able to sell the war as a battle against a new generation of supposed fascists and a reprise of Moscow’s victory in World War II.

The calls that Moscow must rescue ethnic Russians suffering in Ukraine, especially in the Donbas, also have significant salience for domestic audiences in Russia. For many Russians, the Donbas remains a traditionally Russian land and Moscow maintains a unique role in protecting Russians in neighboring nations—including beyond Ukraine. Given its salience, this line of argument would likely be employed again should Russia launch another invasion of a neighboring nation in the future, with potential usage from Estonia to Kazakhstan.

  1. Russia and Ukraine are actually “brotherly” nations, and Ukrainians are simply “confused” about their relationship as subalterns to Russia. This is primarily predicated on the idea that Ukraine is simply “Little Russia,” part of the “triune state” of Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine—and, naturally, not part of the West. The war is simply about restoring that Ukrainian status. It is also about restoring Russia’s colonial control of Ukraine and keeping Ukraine as an entity subservient to Russia.

Details

As with the narrative on Ukraine suffering a coup via fascists in 2014, the idea that Russia and Ukraine are brotherly nations—and that they are destined for embrace, with Russia lording as the “elder brother” over Little Russia—long predated Russia’s 2022 expanded invasion. Indeed, such a narrative stretches back to at least the middle of the nineteenth century, when young Russian aristocrats “discovered” Ukraine and began “to work intensely to uncover the region’s supposed original Russianness,” wrote Johns Hopkins University’s Eugene Finkel, whose 2024 book traced the origins of such efforts. No longer was Ukraine a separate polity with a distinct history; by the 1830s and 1840s, as Russian Slavophile writer Aleksei Khomiakov noted, Ukraine was “an organic and inseparable part of a single Russian nation.” Russia and Ukraine, alongside Belarus, formed a supposed triune state, in which all three nations were part of one greater Slavic nation headed by Russia.

It is an idea that, nearly two centuries later, remains largely unchanged—and which helped provide the outline for one of Moscow’s prime narratives about why it needed to launch its expanded invasion in 2022. This narrative formed much of the basis for Putin’s lengthy 2021 treatise on the topic, in which he detailed the supposed “historical unity of Russians and Ukrainians.” As Putin wrote:

I am confident that true sovereignty of Ukraine is possible only in partnership with Russia. Our spiritual, human and civilizational ties formed for centuries and have their origins in the same sources, they have been hardened by common trials, achievements and victories. Our kinship has been transmitted from generation to generation. It is in the hearts and the memory of people living in modern Russia and Ukraine, in the blood ties that unite millions of our families. Together we have always been and will be many times stronger and more successful. For we are one people.

If anything, Putin’s beliefs in the historical unity binding Russia and Ukraine have only grown despite the military setbacks and massive casualty rates continuing to climb. In late 2022, Putin announced the supposed “annexation” of further Ukrainian territory, including territory Moscow had not yet even conquered. As a means of getting around this awkward fact, Putin pointed to the supposed unity already extant between Ukraine and Russia—found, naturally, in the land he was now claiming as Russia’s. As Putin said, those in Ukraine were “our compatriots, our brothers and sisters . . . the native part of our united people.”

Russian President Vladimir Putin attends a pro-war concert at Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow, Russia. February 22, 2023. (Sputnik/Maksim Blinov/Kremlin via REUTERS)

Nor is it just Putin who has peddled such tropes. In a malicious, revelatory article originally posted on (and later removed from) RIA Novosti, one Russian writer laid out what Russian victory in Ukraine would look like. “Ukraine has returned to Russia,” the article begins. “It will be reorganized, re-established and returned to its natural state as part of the Russian world . . . [Russia, Belarus, and Ukraine] will now act in geopolitical terms as a single whole.” Thanks to the invasion, “Russia is restoring its unity” via a “de facto civil war” waged by “brothers.” And thanks to Moscow’s victory, “Russia is restoring its historical completeness, gathering the Russian world, the Russian people together—in all its totality of Great Russians, Belarusians and Little Russians [i.e., Ukrainians].”

Analysis

In this narrative, Ukraine and Ukrainians still exist in concept, but only as a nation and people subordinated to Russia and Russian sovereignty. It is, if anything, a vision that posits Ukraine as simply another Belarus: a state that retains nominal independence but is nonetheless tightly embraced by Moscow and subservient to the Kremlin’s demands. This, as Moscow sees it, is the natural state of things—and anything else would simply be a historical anomaly.

This narrative, of course, is chock-full of historic revisionism, outright fabrications, and warmed-over excuses for empire. As Finkel noted, Kyiv’s origins predate Moscow’s founding by centuries, and few if any Russian intellectuals ever considered Ukraine part of their history and identity until the middle of the nineteenth century. Moreover, this narrative grossly ignores what Ukrainians actually think—and blinded Moscow to just how fiercely Ukrainians would fight to preserve both their state and their nation moving forward.

  1. “Ukraine” does not actually exist but is a Leninist fabrication. This is predicated on the idea that Vladimir Lenin and other Soviet leadership were mistaken to draw any internal, republican borders within the Soviet Union—and that the entire “near abroad” is rightfully Russian. The war is about rectifying this Leninist mistake.

Details

This narrative flips the notion of a supposed triune state on its head. Instead of Ukraine being a constituent part of a greater Russia, there is no Ukraine whatsoever—and any claims of a separate Ukrainian nation, language, or identity are simply slander against the one, true, and indivisible Russia. It is a narrative that tips into the genocidal, giving Russia cover to try eliminating Ukrainian identity entirely.

As with other narratives mentioned above, the idea that Ukraine is not a separate polity but is simply a “project” meant to target and undercut Russia has a lengthy lineage. In the 1860s, Russian officials shunted the idea of Ukraine entirely to the side, claiming that the Ukrainian language “never existed, does not exist and cannot exist,” culminating in a tsarist edict banning the teaching of Ukrainian and marking the first instance of Russian authorities trying to stamp out the idea of Ukraine entirely.

The key inflection point in this narrative—that Ukraine is a mere fabrication, rather than a fraternal nation that has lost its way—came in the early 1920s, when Lenin and other Soviet higher-ups began outlining the borders of the new Soviet republics. Given the levels of support in Ukraine for Ukrainian nationhood, Soviet leadership granted Ukraine (and a number of other polities) republican status, effectively placing it on par with the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic. For Putin and others, this decision was a “time bomb” that ultimately detonated in the Soviet Union’s dissolution and is a historic wrong that must be corrected.

We see elements of this narrative throughout Putin’s speeches and writings. In the same essay mentioned above about the supposed historical unity of Russia and Ukraine, Putin claims that “modern Ukraine is entirely the product of the Soviet era,” created “on the lands of historical Russia.” As he added when announcing the expanded invasion, “modern Ukraine was entirely created by Russia or, to be more precise, by Bolshevik, Communist Russia. This process started practically right after the 1917 revolution, and Lenin and his associates did it in a way that was extremely harsh on Russia—by separating, severing what is historically Russian land . . . When it comes to the historical destiny of Russia and its peoples, Lenin’s principles of state development were not just a mistake; they were worse than a mistake.”

As such, the time had come to rectify that “mistake”—even to the point of destroying and subsuming Ukraine entirely.

Analysis

Putin might play-act as a historian, but his reading of history is saturated in grievance and mythmaking, cherry-picking facts and concocting details of his own. The idea that Ukraine is a fabrication or some facile project is, of course, belied by the fact that Ukraine and Ukrainians continue to exist and continue to fight back against Russian forces.

Moreover, Putin’s shoddy history is easily dismissed by those who have actually studied the region. As acclaimed historian Serhii Plokhy noted, the idea that Ukraine exists on historical Russian lands is nonsensical. “Even a cursory acquaintance with the history of the Russian Revolution and fall of the Russian Empire that accompanied it indicates that the modern Ukrainian state came into existence not thanks to Lenin but against his wishes and in direct reaction to the Bolshevik putsch in Petrograd in October . . . of 1917,” Plokhy wrote. “The Bolsheviks tried to take control of Kyiv as well but were defeated, jumpstarting the process of the modern Ukrainian state-building.”

Putin is hardly the only Russian nationalist who has learned the hard way the peril of dismissing Ukrainian identity. During the Russian Civil War, the pro-tsarist White forces refused to grant Ukraine (among other nations) any political freedoms or sovereignty. They instead claimed they were fighting for “Russia, one and indivisible”—a cry that rallied few non-Russians and eventually doomed the White forces to defeat.

Russia’s global standing

  1. This war is primarily about beating back NATO and Western expansion. NATO “pledged” in 1990 that it would not expand its borders, and this war is simply about forcing NATO to uphold that pledge. This war is a “defensive” war, aimed at preventing Russian “encirclement.”

Details

Not all of the Russian narratives backing the expanded invasion center on Ukraine. In fact, a number claim that Ukraine is simply the latest flashpoint in a far broader struggle Russia is waging against a perfidious West, and the United States in particular. A case in point is the claim that the war in Ukraine is not just about toppling Kyiv’s “regime,” or even preventing Ukraine from joining NATO, but that it is about unwinding NATO’s post-1991 gains and preventing the wholesale encirclement of Russia by Western forces.

Such a narrative came to the fore in the weeks leading up to the expanded invasion in early 2022. In December 2021, the Kremlin moved from demanding that Ukraine simply acquiesce to Russian demands (especially foregoing NATO membership) to demanding that NATO deployments leave much of Eastern and Central Europe entirely. Moscow specifically called for the removal of NATO forces and weapons from countries such as Romania and Bulgaria, and formally called for NATO to pull back to its 1997 borders, effectively abandoning Poland, Czechia, the Baltics, and others—and effectively restoring military parity between the United States and Russia in Europe.

The Kremlin has justified these demands by claiming that the United States pledged in the early 1990s not to expand NATO eastward. Putin has regurgitated these claims multiple times, including after Russia first launched its invasion in 2014, when the Russian leader stated that Western leaders “have lied to us many times . . . This happened with NATO’s expansion to the east, as well as the deployment of military infrastructure at our borders.” According to Putin, all NATO enlargement following the Soviet dissolution is invalid and must be rolled back. Preventing Ukraine from NATO membership is simply the first domino in a far broader effort to push NATO out of all of its newest member states.

Analysis

Putin’s claims that the United States pledged not to expand NATO are ahistorical and fabricated. The United States never pledged any such veto. Even Mikhail Gorbachev, then ruling as Soviet premier, attested to this, saying that the “topic of ‘NATO expansion’ was not . . . brought up in those years.” Moreover, the key comment in question, in which Secretary of State James Baker floated the idea of NATO moving “not one inch east,” referred solely to NATO troops from West Germany moving into East Germany. The George H. W. Bush administration, however, never adopted this or any prohibition on NATO expansion as formal policy.

However, such a lie is a handy means of cultivating support among gullible audiences, both domestically and internationally, and helps present Russian aggression as being defensive in nature. Of course, this kind of framing—that invading a neighbor is not imperialism but is actually a defensive move—long predates Putin. It can be found in everything from the US decision to invade Mexico in the 1840s to Japan’s decision to invade much of Asia in the 1940s. This “defensiveness” was also the basis for much of the Soviet Union’s rationale for invading numerous neighbors, from Hungary in 1956 to Czechoslovakia in 1968 and beyond. Putin will almost certainly not be the last imperial leader to claim his country’s expansion is defensive in nature.

Thankfully, the Kremlin’s demands have been roundly dismissed by NATO and Western governments alike, and Ukraine remains dedicated to joining NATO. Yet the demands highlight how Russia has spun the war in Ukraine as a means not simply of thwarting NATO’s enlargement but of restoring a military parity between the United States and Russia on the European continent. It implies, in other words, an effective return to the Cold War military status quo within Europe and an unwinding of all the post-Cold War gains that have helped beat back malign Russian influence and military dominance in Europe, far beyond just Ukraine.

  1. This war is about the non-Western world standing up to Western bullying, hypocrisy, and decadence. Russia is at the vanguard of the non-Western world’s fight against Western “colonialism,” trying to restore “traditional values” that the West is attempting to destroy around the world.

Details

While the war is taking place in Ukraine, this narrative posits that the war is about far more than simple NATO expansion or Ukrainian nationhood. Instead, it is about finally standing up to Western predation and perfidy, and to the West’s attempts to spread supposedly liberal values around the world—including all those elements opposing so-called traditional values.

Russia’s efforts to transform itself into a bastion of these supposed traditional values dates back at least a decade, when the Kremlin first began positioning itself as the primary bulwark for those opposed to liberal democracy. These include those opposed to LGBTQ rights, those opposed to so-called “gender ideology,” and even those opposed to democracy writ large. This effort has been largely successful, with Russia and Putin widely viewed as the lodestar for these anti-democratic forces.

The war in Ukraine, then, is simply a continuation on this theme. Announcing the expanded invasion in 2022, Putin claimed that the West “sought to destroy our traditional values and force on us their false values that would erode us, our people from within.” Patriarch Kirill, one of the key spokesmen for Putin’s regime and the titular head of the Russian Orthodox Church’s Moscow Patriarchate, echoed Putin’s claims that the war was predicated on those in eastern Ukraine “refus[ing] to accept the so-called values that are being offered by” the West, including “the gay parade.” RT editor-in-chief Margarita Simonyan, one of the war’s biggest boosters, warned that Ukraine risked becoming “an LGBTQ capital or a venue for the Transgender Olympics.”

More broadly, the Kremlin has attempted to position the war as an effort to stand up to Western “neo-colonialism.” Ignoring centuries of Russian colonialism in Ukraine (and elsewhere), Putin has attempted to sell the war as a means of beating back Western colonial efforts. As he said when announcing the supposed annexations of multiple Ukrainian provinces in late 2022, “The West is ready to step over everything in order to preserve the neo-colonial system that allows it to parasitize, in fact, to plunder . . . Hence their aggression towards independent states, towards traditional values and original cultures[.]”

Analysis

It’s difficult to take seriously Russia’s claims that it is waging a war in Ukraine for traditional values, or that it has some kind of spiritual mission to beat back the encroachment of LGBTQ rights. After all, Russia is a country in which the rate of regular church attendance is in the single digits, while the country’s abortion rate remains higher than that of many other European nations. Moreover, the country routinely persecutes Christian denominations, even in Russia itself. The country is hardly a bastion of traditional values, despite Putin’s claims otherwise.

However, the claim that Russia is supposedly leading an anti-colonial war is perhaps the most farcical. Russia was a constituent part of the broader, ghastly story of European colonization, stealing lands and brutalizing populations from Eastern Europe and the Caucasus to North Asia and Central Asia—and even joining Great Britain, France, and Spain in colonizing North America. Claiming it was spreading “civilization” and “Christianity” to “heathen” groups of “savages,” Russia’s colonialist claims were indistinguishable from those in European empires elsewhere. In other words, Moscow was as much a European colonizer as London, Lisbon, Brussels, or Paris.

This was true not just in Chechnya, Kazakhstan, Sakha, or Finland, but also in Ukraine, where Moscow—during tsarist, Soviet, and now Putin eras—routinely engaged in colonial behavior, from ethnic cleansing to cultural genocide to mass murder, all while claiming non-Russian lands as its own. The war in Ukraine is indeed colonial, but with Russia once more in the role of colonizer.

  1. This war is about restoring Russia’s status as a “great power,” both in Europe and globally. It is primarily about ushering in a “multipolar” world, with other “civilization-states” such as China and India rising to parity with the United States.

Details

Arguably the broadest narrative propounded by Russian authorities is that the war in Ukraine is not about the status of certain Ukrainian provinces, or Ukrainian security arrangements, or even the size and status of NATO in Europe. It is instead about restoring Russia’s role as a supposed great power on par with a small number of other states that make up an exclusive club of nations dominating geopolitics. These nations include the United States, China, and potentially India, with Russia also seen as a natural member.

The Kremlin claims Russia’s rightful status as a great power has been dismissed by the West—and especially by the United States, which has preferred to oversee a unipolar world—but no more. In invading Ukraine, Russia has announced its permanent status as one of the supposed civilization-states in a new multipolar world. This is not to say that Russia is aspiring to global dominance, per se. Rather, Russia is aspiring to—and has already achieved—a role as one of the key geopolitical players internationally, regionally dominant and globally relevant. Ukraine remains firmly within Russia’s supposed sphere of influence and, as such, Russia should have the right to do whatever it wants within Ukraine with no outside interference.

This obsession with great-power status has long pervaded Putin’s rhetoric, infusing and inflaming Russia’s revanchism. In October 2022, when he announced Russia’s supposed annexation of four Ukrainian provinces, Putin claimed that Russia is “a great millennial power” and a “country-civilization” that will follow its own path. In March 2023, Putin signed a strategic blueprint outlining Russia’s “historically unique mission” as a “unique state-civilization.” As Uppsala University’s Igor Torbakov wrote, it was the first time that Russian leadership had “officially stated that Russia is a sui generis civilization.”

Much of this narrative has manifested in specific calls for a “new Yalta,” in which leaders in Moscow, Beijing, and Washington effectively carve up the world, Ukraine included. In such a scenario, Russia would be the modern equivalent of the United Kingdom: an empire that might not be quite as powerful or wealthy as the other two nations, but that nonetheless deserves a place at such a summit. “Putin has never hidden that his dream is a new Yalta . . . [to] establish a new world order,” writes journalist Mikhail Zygar. Russia’s Ukraine war—and its supposedly imminent victory—is merely the opening salvo in a far broader global reordering. As the much-maligned RIA Novosti article mentioned above claimed, the invasion of Ukraine meant that a “new world is being born before our eyes”—a world that Russia will help steer.

Analysis

This pretension to greatness hardly began with Putin. Years before Russia’s expanded invasion, the Kremlin and Russian intellectuals were long obsessed with “the pursuit of derzhavnost,” which scholar Seva Gunitsky translates as “both being a great power and being recognized as such by others.” Not only does this mean acting as a regional hegemon, but it also means being entitled to “an unquestioned sphere of influence.” This rhetoric—of Moscow’s “special mission” and its “historic destiny” as a “great power”—stretches back centuries and was evident in the Kremlin’s tsarist, Soviet, and post-Soviet history.

It is perhaps ironic, then, that little has done more to expose the hollowness of Putin’s claims than his invasion of Ukraine. Rather than restore Russia’s great-power status, the war has led not just to the degradation of the Russian economy and outright military disaster in Ukraine but to Russia’s weakening influence in the South Caucasus, the Middle East, Africa, and, of course, Europe more broadly. It has likewise forced Russia to rely on North Korea to shore up national security, and to lean on China to shore up Russia’s teetering economy.

The war has only accelerated Russian decline and undone, perhaps for good, the potential restoration of Russian greatness. Moscow might still maintain its status on things like the United Nations’ Security Council and might still be the only post-Soviet state with nuclear weapons. But the idea that Russia is, or will soon become, a great power is increasingly laughable—and a testament to what a disaster Putin’s rule has been for Russia.

Conclusion

Wars can often contain multiple narratives. The US invasion of Iraq, for example, was originally pegged to removing Iraq’s supposed weapons of mass destruction program before it shifted to fostering “democracy” for Iraqis. The US Civil War was originally launched to restore the sovereignty of the federal government before it shifted to eliminating slavery within the United States entirely. A war with multiple narratives does not necessarily portend either success or failure.

Rare are those wars, however, that push as many competing narratives as Russia has peddled in Ukraine. Indeed, it’s difficult to think of another war that has seen so many different justifications from the invading party. And it’s difficult to identify another war that has seen such a massive difference in scale of what those narratives are proposing, from simple territorial shifts to the entire reordering of the state of global affairs.

But as we’ve seen above, this is precisely what Russia has attempted with its invasion of Ukraine. From protecting pockets of Russians in the Donbas to ushering in an entirely new geopolitical era, from restoring a supposed Slavic unity to eliminating liberal values, the Kremlin’s justifications for its war have been breathtaking in their breadth.

They have also been a confused, muddled mess and a testament to just what a fiasco Russia’s entire war has been for Moscow. Instead of a clear-cut series of goals and aims, Russia’s leadership has flailed for excuses for its invasion, tossing idea after idea into the ether to see what might succeed. Such narrative confusion has stemmed, in large part, from Russia’s overall failures in Ukraine, forcing the Kremlin to reach for more and more justifications as the war drags on. At the same time, the confusion has played a significant role in Russia’s overall strategic failures in Ukraine and elsewhere; without a clear set of strategic goals, there’s little reason to think that tactical or battlefield successes would follow. Of course, much of this is also predicated on the Kremlin’s historical myopia as it pertains to Ukrainian history and Ukrainian nationhood; rather than a constituent part of some kind of Greater Russia, Ukraine is a distinct polity with a unique, separate history—a reality that hundreds of thousands of Russians have now died to learn. While Russia might continue to occupy sections of Ukrainian territory, the Kremlin has all but assured that a heavily armed Kyiv remains Russia’s greatest geopolitical foe for decades to come, if not longer.

For those looking forward, all this narrative confusion highlights one thing: there’s little reason to think Putin will be satisfied with simple recognition of Russian sovereignty over places such as Donetsk or Kherson. As Russian authorities have claimed, this war is about far more than the status of certain sections of eastern Ukraine, or even about Ukrainian membership in NATO. The Kremlin has far broader, and far more destabilizing, goals than simply dominating Luhansk and Zaporizhzhia, or even necessarily toppling Kyiv. Ukraine is but a stepping stone to Putin’s far more sweeping goals of rolling back US and allied interests, reaffirming Russian dominance over all of its neighbors (China and North Korea excepted), and creating a world in which the rights of smaller nations are subject to the whims of a handful of great powers. Given Putin’s ongoing obstinacy about winding down the war and finding a so-called “off-ramp,” it is clear that, for him, this war is about far more than simply the territorial status of parts of eastern or southern Ukraine.

It is, indeed, a reflection of the Kremlin’s obsession with derzhavnost—an obsession of which Ukrainians have done everything they can to disabuse Russia. And it reflects the fact that what can end this war is not the status of places like Crimea or Donetsk oblasts, but a full and outright defeat of Russia. Anything less would simply tempt the Kremlin to try again—with another effort to upend the global order and another war to try making Russia great again.

Read the full issue brief

About the authors

Casey Michel is an author and journalist who writes extensively on international corruption, kleptocracy, national security, and Russia policy. His writing has appeared in the New York Times, Foreign Affairs, Financial Times, Wall Street Journal, and many other outlets. His 2021 book, American Kleptocracy, was named by the Economist as one of the “best books to read to understand financial crime,” and his 2024 book Foreign Agents was named by Foreign Policy Magazine as one of the “biggest foreign-policy book releases of 2024.” His next book, United States of Oligarchy, will be released in summer 2026.

He is based in New York, and is currently sanctioned by the Russian regime for his work.

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Democracy, dealmaking, and stability: Rethinking US engagement in Africa https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/democracy-and-stability-in-africa-why-us-leadership-still-matters/ Fri, 19 Dec 2025 00:47:44 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893855 The near- and long-term interests of African societies and key US stakeholders are bolstered by the advancement of democratic, accountable, and stable governance on the continent. A robust democracy assistance strategy in Africa is in line with long-standing US values that underpin America’s reputation and image on the continent, and is also instrumental to current US objectives. 

The post Democracy, dealmaking, and stability: Rethinking US engagement in Africa appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The United States is reevaluating democracy assistance in Africa at a time when democratic institutions, citizen aspirations, and regional stability depend on sustained support for accountable governance.
  • Strengthening democratic pathways, empowering citizens in democratic and authoritarian contexts, and investing in stabilization and local peacebuilding are essential to protecting African progress and advancing US interests.
  • Private philanthropy and the private sector must play a larger role in sustaining electoral integrity, supporting civil society, and fostering conditions that enable long-term democratic and economic gains.

This issue brief is part of the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s “The future of democracy assistance” series, which analyzes the many complex challenges to democracy around the world and highlights actionable policies that promote democratic governance.

Introduction

The political landscape in Africa defies generalization. Despite setbacks and challenges, democratic progress continues in Ghana, Malawi, and Senegal, among other countries. Next to these bright spots, military juntas have deepened their grip on multiple West African and Sahelian governments, long-standing authoritarian regimes remain in Rwanda, Uganda, and other countries, and conflict and war continues to upend lives and threaten the territorial integrity of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Sudan. Numerous other countries are best described as hybrid regimes, combining democratic and authoritarian forms of governance and producing inconsistent outcomes for their citizens in terms of delivering public goods, securing basic rights, and promoting economic growth.

Against this backdrop, the United States is recasting its relationship with African governments and their constituencies. Department of State officials describe “trade, not aid” as the foundation of US policy in Africa. In doing so, they have named expanded access to critical minerals and energy resources, alongside the development of new markets for US exports, as signature priorities for the Trump administration on the continent. This shift has brought cascading effects on African nations. As the region with the largest historic inflow of US foreign assistance, deep and sudden cuts to the aid budgets of the US Department of State and the closure of the US Agency for International Development have disproportionately affected African countries.[2]

Previous US administrations—including the first Trump administration—promoted democratic governance and stability in Africa using a combination of diplomatic and development tools. In fiscal year 2023, for example, the US government spent more than $338 million on democracy, human rights, and governance (DRG) programming in Africa. Even more was spent in the final year of the first Trump administration, when DRG spending in Africa stood at more than $415 million.

Today, the outlook is very different. In addition to eliminating most democracy assistance to the continent in the early round of aid cuts, the administration has sought to defund the National Endowment for Democracy and proposed the elimination of nearly all DRG funds in its 2026 budget. Meanwhile, it has shifted away from criticizing foreign governments on democratic and human rights grounds.

Regardless of the direction of US government policy, recent history shows that both African societies and US national interests are best served by stable, democratic, and accountable systems of governance, which have proved more effective at delivering peace, expanding socioeconomic opportunity, and fostering market economies that attract domestic and international investment. Given this reality, the “dealmaking” intended to drive the administration’s foreign policy will find its greatest long-term success in countries with stronger and more democratic institutions.

This brief makes recommendations for how and why US stakeholders should work with democratic partners in Africa to seek democracy and stability-related outcomes. It includes specific recommendations directed at the US government for using democracy assistance as a tool to advance key African and American priorities. Recognizing that the near-term reality of reduced funding for US government democracy assistance will generate new shortfalls and challenges, this brief also identifies opportunities for other American institutions, namely private philanthropy and the private sector, to partner with key democratic actors and advance DRG practice in Africa.

Why prioritize democracy, good governance, and stability?

There are numerous practical reasons for the US government and constituencies to prefer and encourage democracy, good governance, and stability in Africa. Most importantly, it is what African publics want. Survey respondents on the continent consistently report a preference for democratic systems of government over all other options. The 2021–23 Afrobarometer survey found that, across thirty-nine surveyed countries, 66 percent of respondents prefer democracy over any other kind of government, while 78 percent oppose one-party rule and 66 percent oppose military rule. Despite some erosion in overall support for democracy over the past decade, popular support for democratic governance remains resilient in the face of social and economic headwinds and global momentum for authoritarian governments.

Despite challenges, democratic and institutionally stable regimes have yielded economic, political, and social benefits. The Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Indexes show that globally, while gains often take time to accrue, democratizing countries see an average bump of 8.8 percent in gross national product per capita over a twenty-year period compared to their autocratic peers. Meanwhile, institutional instability and fragility remain especially damaging to socioeconomic well-being. Countries with the highest levels of fragility as defined by the Fragile States Index have seen slow or significantly negative economic growth, conflict, and recurrent humanitarian crises. Insecurity and crisis, in turn, create unstable markets, disrupt supply chains, and erode long-term investment for US industries.

From an American perspective, African countries with stable and democratic institutions have been reliable economic, political, and security partners. They are more inclined to establish and strengthen rules-based economic and political systems that protect US and other investors. In regions like the Sahel, as elaborated on below, democratic governments serve as key political and security allies, while undemocratic and especially unstable countries have invited foreign interference by geopolitical rivals and create risks related to radicalization.

Institutional stability will only become more important as the US government and corporations push to expand trade relations and close deals in capital-intensive sectors like mining. Moving forward, the limiting factor on investments that generate returns for African and American economies alike is not the ability of the US government to sign deals today, but its ability to encourage stable economic and political conditions that protect those investments in the years to come.

Priorities for democracy assistance

A sensible US foreign policy interested in achieving meaningful social, political, and economic gains for African partner societies and US stakeholders alike would make diverse investments in stable, democratic, and accountable governance on the continent. We identify three broad priorities that could power an effective democracy assistance strategy:

  1. Invest in countries on a democratic pathway.
  2. Ally with citizens, including in backsliding democracies and autocracies.
  3. Prioritize stabilization and local institutions that enable peace and security.

These priorities and the specific investments listed below are not meant to be comprehensive, but rather indicative of what a balanced and sufficiently ambitious US democracy assistance strategy could entail. The priorities could be applied across a wide set of countries and regions, or focus on specific geographies where the US government has direct economic and security interests, such as large population centers and economies like Nigeria and Kenya, or strategic regions like the Great Lakes, Horn of Africa, and Sahel. Recognizing that the US government is poised to reduce its investments in critical areas of intervention, we identify specific opportunities for private philanthropy and the private sector to play a leadership role in delivering and reenvisioning elements of a democracy assistance package moving forward.

Priority 1: Invest in countries on a democratic pathway

Reinforcing the economic, political, and security gains to democratic stability in Africa, the United States should continue to invest in the success of aspiring and longer-standing democracies on the continent. Democratic governments are better at protecting the rights and well-being of their citizens while creating hospitable conditions for secure, long-term investments and trade relations. Key democratic governments on the continent have set reform agendas with the potential to benefit their citizens and serve near- and long-term American economic and political interests. Furthermore, multiple democratic countries represent anchor security partners for the United States and critical bulwarks against instability, radicalization, and foreign interference in volatile regions such as the Sahel.

Take Senegal, for example. Senegal provides a case study for how a country that has made long-term democratic progress—and that overcame threats to its 2024 presidential election—is prioritizing economic and governance reforms that are responsive to the stated interests of its citizens. Like other recently elected governments on the continent, Senegal’s administration has prioritized anti-corruption, structural economic reforms, and poverty reduction, among other signature initiatives. Senegal’s President Bassirou Diomaye Faye led this effort by declaring his assets during the election and, once in office, announcing audits of the oil, gas, and mining sectors. The administration similarly proposed multiple transparency laws and released previously unpublished reports from anti-corruption institutions.

The extent and success of reform efforts in Senegal remains to be seen, but they have the potential to strengthen its citizens’ socioeconomic security and overall market economy. Alongside Ghana, Senegal remains a long-standing democratic partner in a region where the proliferation of military-led governments has put US security interests and assets at risk, as evidenced by the recent closure of US military bases in Niger. The U.S., therefore, has a direct stake in the success of governance-strengthening efforts in countries like Senegal.

The US government and other entities should make strategic investments in countries on a democratic pathway, like Senegal, to achieve results in high-priority areas of reform and strengthen key institutions, including in sectors of mutual interest to the US stakeholders and partner governments.

  • Prioritize support for reforms that are championed by government partners. External technical and financial assistance is most effective when supporting reform and governance-strengthening initiatives that are owned and led by government partners. Indeed, political commitment alongside bureaucratic capacity are among the interrelated factors contributing to the success or failure of reform. In countries seeking to entrench democratic and economic reforms, the US government can work with partner governments that see their political futures as tied to the success of reforms across a range of economic and social sectors, such as public health, transportation, and financial services where key benefits accrue to US constituencies. The US government can aid these reform efforts by providing technical assistance, technology transfers, and direct financial support, concentrating on sectors where the US has a strategic interest.
  • Continue social and capital investments in democratizing countries. The US government has used vehicles such as the Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC) to invest in economic and social sectors in countries meeting basic governance benchmarks. This has included, for example, using cofinancing models to support upgrades of the energy sector in Senegal and the transport sector in Malawi. The MCC’s investment-led, government-to-government approach is suited to countries on a stable and democratic trajectory, where US and partner country investments are more likely to be secure. While its future remains uncertain, the MCC and institutions like the Development Finance Corporation can help democratizing countries generate capital for high-priority, high-impact sectors that can contribute to economic growth and social welfare. Looking forward, the US government can maintain investments in strategically important countries like Cote d’Ivoire and Zambia. It can also use its investments to crowd in funding to sectors of mutual interest for African and American businesses and other stakeholders.

The role of other actors: Private philanthropy must maintain support for free and fair electoral systems

The integrity of electoral institutions and, ultimately, the conduct of elections has an outsize influence on the trajectory on democratic consolidation. The US government has decades of experience supporting political parties, strengthening the infrastructure for independent election monitoring, and strengthening electoral management bodies (EMBs), which research shows is critically important to democratic trajectories, including re-democratization. Meanwhile, the current Department of State has backed away from electoral assistance programs and issued directives restricting embassies from criticizing foreign elections.

Given trends in US government policy, private philanthropy can help preserve US leadership in international electoral support. While the philanthropic sector cannot replace US government election funding—which included $48.9 million in support for unanticipated events like snap elections across twenty-eight African countries between 2022 and 2024—it can make high-impact investments that help preserve and build on democratic gains. These investments could include, for example, prioritizing targeted support for EMBs and the electoral monitoring capacities in countries working to consolidate their democratic progress.

Priority 2: Ally with citizens, including in backsliding democracies and autocracies

In pursuing a dealmaking-focused foreign policy, it will be tempting for the US government and private sector to “deal” primarily or exclusively with power-wielding political and economic elites. Doing so risks putting the United States at odds with African publics who express a preference for democracy and accountable governance, while potentially promoting corruption and distorting markets key to fair competition for US and other businesses.

Many African societies have tended to hold positive views of the United States and find resonance with its economic and political values. Recent research from Pew found that the some of the highest US approval ratings from foreign publics come from surveyed African countries. These findings mirror older Afrobarometer data showing that preference for the US development model outcompetes China’s by 11 percentage points across surveyed countries. This research suggests that views of the United States are influenced by its perceived commitments to democratic and free-market development approaches.

An effective foreign policy focused on long-term US interests must grapple with the reality that the political and socioeconomic interests of African citizens are not always served by their leaders. Many regimes tilt the electoral system in their favor, effectively silencing their electorates. Across a range of countries, civil society and human rights leaders face political repression for exercising their fundamental political rights. And too many large-scale investments in extractives and other sectors—including investments led by transactional Chinese state and corporate entities—have undermined the human rights and failed to serve the interests of local communities.

Allying with African citizenries does not mean forgoing economic and political dealmaking. Across regime types, citizens want to see expanded economic opportunity, social welfare gains, and security. Failure to prioritize the economic and political needs and interests of African societies, however, would put the United States on the wrong side of many of the youngest populations in the world, jeopardizing hard-won admiration on the continent. Democracy assistance offers practical tools for supporting and protecting key constituencies.

  • Invest in strengthened economic governance and business climates. African publics and the US government and corporations have a shared interest in strengthening business sectors that enable fair, rules-based market competition. The US government should invest in strengthened economic governance through targeted support to government and nongovernment actors, potentially focusing on sectors with heightened exposure for the United States. This could, for example, include supporting efforts to reduce child labor and forced labor from supply chains, thereby addressing significant human rights violations and leveling the economic playing field for US corporations that must adhere to international labor standards. Where there is state commitment to reform, the US government can support technical assistance to lawmakers and regulatory bodies to put in place and implement legal, policy, and regulatory frameworks that meet international standards. It can also support chambers of commerce, industry associations, and civil society organizations to promote transparent and accountable business practices and advance market-oriented reforms.
  • Prioritize anti-corruption and accountability. Support for anti-corruption efforts by committed government and citizen actors offers a clear opportunity for the US government to stand with African publics. In countries as varied as Gabon, Gambia, Liberia, and South Africa, more than 70 percent of Afrobarometer respondents report that corruption increased “somewhat/a lot” in the past year.” Corruption concerns have helped fueled democratic transitions in countries such as Ghana and Senegal, as well as large-scale protests in Kenya, Madagascar, and South Africa, among others. The US government could assist governments committed to anti-corruption efforts to advance e-governance that has been shown effective at reducing opportunities for corruption. The United States should also support civil society and independent media to conduct investigations, analyze public data, and advocate for public transparency and accountability, including to address regional challenges like cross-border illicit financial flows that harm US economic interests.

The role of other actors: Private philanthropy should prioritize emergency assistance to civil society and human rights institutions

With the near-term decline of the US government’s support to civil society in Africa and globally, private philanthropy is best placed to shore up critical gaps while shifting the terms of assistance for civic institutions. In particular, private foundations can prioritize funding for emergency assistance aimed at protecting individuals and organizations facing acute risks of political repression. The annual value of US government human rights programming in Africa was $21.6 million in fiscal year 2022, of which emergency assistance activities was only a part. The sums involved for sustaining core emergency assistance categories are within the capabilities of individual or coalitions of leading US philanthropies.

Private foundations can also adopt regional or global approaches to directly funding and supporting local civic institutions. This could include developing programs that facilitate horizontal relationships, learning, and mutual assistance among civic actors from Africa, the United States, and other regions grappling with common struggles related to conflict, democracy, and accountable governance in their societies.

Priority 3: Prioritize stabilization and local institutions that enable peace and security

Instability and conflict remain critical challenges across key regions and countries in Africa. The Fragile States Index shows that four out of the five most fragile countries (and sixteen out of the most fragile twenty-five countries) globally are in sub-Saharan Africa. Recent years have seen a rapid expansion in the scope and intensity of conflict in the region. This includes conflicts fueled or amplified by extremist groups in the Sahel, West Africa, and coastal East Africa. It also includes civil conflicts in Ethiopia, Sudan, and South Sudan, among other countries. The human and economic costs of conflict are vast. In 2023, the number of displaced persons in Africa approached 35 million, representing nearly half of the total number of displaced persons globally.

In the DRC and broader Great Lakes region of Africa, the Trump administration has shown a willingness to use its political capital to seek an end to a long-standing and worsening conflict that threatens its trade and investment interests. In late June 2025, the US government announced a peace deal between the DRC and Rwanda governments aimed at halting the conflict between state authorities and the March 23 Movement (M23) rebels. Questions remain about the ultimate effectiveness of the settlement given that M23 and other rebel groups are not direct parties to the agreement. The US government, however, has expressed commitment to its implementation, which it sees as necessary for enhanced American access to critical minerals, including cobalt, copper, and tantalum. As in other countries with active conflicts, the US government has cut important aid programs to the DRC that invest in the social infrastructure and critical institutions necessary for supporting and sustaining peace deals. The long-term durability of any peace, however, depends on empowered individual and institutional structures that can deliver foundational levels of governance, and social and economic benefits that can reinforce stability.

  • Maintain support to networks of peacebuilders at the local, regional, and national levels. Integrated networks of formal and informal peacebuilding institutions and individual activists are critical to monitoring, responding to, mitigating, and managing conflict, especially at the local level. Local peacebuilding committees and related structures have a track record of enabling community-level peace outcomes and social cohesion in countries like Burundi, Ethiopia, Ghana, and Kenya. Similarly, mutual aid groups are playing a key role in responding to the impacts of conflict in contemporary Sudan. The US government should prioritize cost-effective investments in the peace institutions and structures that monitor and strengthen peace settlements, especially in countries and regions where it invests in negotiation.
  • Prioritize stabilization and repairing local institutions. Where it pursues diplomatic solutions to conflict, the US government can help secure gains by investing in interventions that produce stability. The DRC shows how daunting the challenge of stabilization can be, with more than 2 million Congolese having faced displacement from the M23-driven conflict between January and June 2024 alone. Effective stabilization efforts require prioritizing humanitarian responses to meet the basic needs of families and communities experiencing displacement, return, and other traumas. It also must include supporting the reestablishment of local civil society and state institutions that can help deliver services, manage public goods, and resolve disputes.

The role of other actors: The private sector should foster multisector investments in peace and security

The long-term ability of private sector companies to operate and recoup investments in conflict-affected communities depends on durable peace and security. Direct investments in peace dividends (i.e., socioeconomic returns to peace) can help reinforce reductions in conflict. US and other private sector companies are optimally positioned to strengthen their local business environments by making social and economic investments that help communities and regions benefit from periods of relative calm while strengthening overall socioeconomic well-being. This can include making investments in local infrastructure, public goods, and service delivery capacities. Private sector actors, especially within the extractives sector, can also build on frameworks like the Voluntary Principles on Security and Human Rights and commit to business and human rights practices that reinforce good governance and security.

Committing to and growing who leads democracy assistance

During its first ten months in office, the Trump administration has removed long-standing infrastructure and funding for delivering democracy assistance globally, including in Africa. The near- and long-term interests of African societies and key US stakeholders, however, are bolstered by the advancement of democratic, accountable, and stable governance on the continent. Not only is a robust democracy assistance strategy in Africa in line with long-standing US values that underpin America’s reputation and image on the continent, but it is also instrumental to stated objectives of the current administration, such as expanding fair access to strong foreign markets and securing priority peace agreements.

Regardless of its ultimate policy, the US government is, at least for the time being, stepping back from traditional aspects of DRG programming. In this context, other institutional actors can do more. Private philanthropy and the private sector cannot replace US government democracy assistance, but they can make targeted, evidence-based, and cost-effective investments that protect important areas of intervention, such as emergency assistance for human rights defenders, institutional support for EMBs, and pro-peace investments in conflict-affected communities. These and other types of investments are affordable, and when well executed, they can positively influence the trajectories of individual democratic actors, institutions, and partner countries.

Private foundations are especially well positioned to pursue DRG investments while prioritizing direct support to African-based institutions. This can include forging mutual relationships among democratic actors grappling with common 21st-century democratic challenges in Africa, the United States, and beyond, to seed the sector with stronger horizontal ties and novel partnership approaches and new strategies for the future.

about the authors

Mason Ingram is vice president for governance at Pact, a nongovernmental organization that carries out development work around in the world in partnership with private sector organizations government agencies, including with USAID until the agency’s closure in 2025. Pact continues to receive funding from the US Department of State. Ingram has more than 15 years of experience designing, advising, and managing international development programs, with a focus on civil society and governance programming.

Alysson Oakley is vice president for learning, evaluation, and impact at Pact. Oakley also teaches courses on program design and evaluation of democracy assistance and conflict resolution interventions at Georgetown University. Oakley holds a PhD from Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies, and a bachelor of arts degree from Brown University.

Jack Higgins is a research assistant and MA candidate at Georgetown University’s College of Arts and Sciences.


The authors are grateful for consultations provided by experts on democratic governance in Africa, including Dr. Babra Ontibile Bhebe (executive director, Election Resource Centre), Bafana Khumalo (co-executive director, Sonke Gender Justice), Omolara Balogun (head, policy influencing and advocacy, West African Civil Society Centre), Jean-Michel Dufils (retired senior governance research expert and program manager), and Jon Temin (visiting fellow, SNF Agora Institute). 

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Engaging generative artificial intelligence in African development https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/engaging-generative-artificial-intelligence-in-african-development/ Thu, 18 Dec 2025 20:03:45 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893977 From classrooms to farming communities, generative artificial intelligence holds great potential for Africa. The question is whether its promise of abundance will reach everyone—or only those already well-connected.

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Executive summary

From classrooms to farming communities, generative artificial intelligence (gen AI) holds great potential for Africa. The key question is whether its promise of abundance will reach everyone—or only those already well-connected.

The technology should be regulated with both its strengths and weaknesses in mind, and approached with a healthy dose of skepticism toward corporate advocates; but ignoring the obvious value and use of gen AI makes little sense. Those concerned with development in Africa must engage with the technology and consider its potential for reducing poverty and strengthening education, alongside other priorities such as digitizing and preserving languages.

Gen AI poses real risks and requires guardrails, especially for young people. Yet disengagement carries risks of its own: if gen AI is not actively shaped and governed, the very youths and communities it could benefit—or harm without proper controls—risk being left behind. Not engaging with gen AI would be not only harmful but also patronizing. More conversation is needed between those inventing and implementing gen AI models and those who work in development assistance, including actors involved in shaping and advancing the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Two of these SDGs—ending poverty and providing quality education—closely mirror gen AI’s promise, or boast, of future “abundance” and human or even superhuman intelligence. The SDG and gen AI camps must explore what each can realistically offer the other.

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Beijing pressures Taiwan’s remaining diplomatic partners. Here’s what the US should do in response https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/maintaining-taiwans-international-space-to-enhance-deterrence-against-china/ Mon, 15 Dec 2025 19:30:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893327 Taiwan’s shrinking circle of diplomatic partners plays a crucial role in deterring Chinese coercion, and the United States needs a more targeted strategy to help preserve this support and maintain cross-strait stability.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Taiwan’s official diplomatic partners play an important role in the island’s ability to directly engage the global community. Beijing is seeking to isolate Taiwan by peeling those partners away.
  • Countering Beijing’s isolation campaign could bolster deterrence by forcing China to question how big of an international outcry it could face if it violates Taiwan’s security.
  • This will require the United States to think seriously about the benefits it offers these partners and how it can team up with Taiwan to maintain the status quo.

Introduction

Taiwan occupies a fraught diplomatic position. Beijing claims sovereignty over the island, maintains a threatening presence around it, and seeks to push Taipei out of diplomatic circles to support its claims that only Beijing—and not the government in Taipei—can effectively represent the island. Taiwan, in contrast, seeks to maintain space for its democratically elected government to speak on its own citizens’ behalf and advocate for their interests in the international arena. From a deterrence perspective, the more Taiwan can advocate for its own interests with global stakeholders, the higher the international cost Beijing would pay for taking the island by force and, thus, the stronger the deterrence against doing so. Based on China’s own war plans,1 Beijing’s first step in a coercive move against Taiwan would be to establish global information control: cutting Taipei off from the global community and claiming that Beijing speaks for the island. Beijing is laying that groundwork now, working across multiple fronts to isolate Taiwan and create maneuvering room for coercion. Chinese diplomats are pushing Taiwan out of United Nations (UN) bodies, keeping it from joining multilateral meetings, and bullying Taiwan’s smaller partners to push them to distance themselves from the government in Taipei. Taiwan’s diplomatic partners are a particularly important battleground. At present, Taiwan only has twelve official diplomatic partners that maintain a formal diplomatic relationship with Taipei. Those relationships—and Taiwan’s other partnerships—play a critical role in maintaining deterrence.

Washington’s role in Taiwan’s diplomatic positioning is unique and complicated. The United States aims to thread a delicate needle: acknowledging that there is “one China” and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) is the government in charge while also deterring any attempts to take the island by force, which includes assistance to bolster Taiwan’s self-defense capabilities. The United States has always sought to tread lightly on the issue of Taiwan’s diplomatic partners. Washington “flipped” its own formal diplomatic recognition from Taipei to Beijing in 1979. Encouraging other nations to do what Washington did not—maintain a formal diplomatic relationship with Taipei—is diplomatically awkward. But changing times might call for new approaches. Most of Taiwan’s remaining diplomatic partners lie in the Western Hemisphere and the Indo-Pacific, two priority regions for deterring Chinese initiatives that directly threaten US security interests. This is especially true for the Western Hemisphere, which is a top priority for Donald Trump’s second administration. In both regions, there are nations that play an outsized role in Taiwan’s global diplomatic presence and allied efforts to deter Chinese coercion toward the island. The United States should consider developing a more targeted strategy for supporting these nations and the role they play in cross-strait stability.

This report will assess how Taiwan’s diplomatic partners contribute to peace and stability in and around the island, and what the United States and its allies can do to maintain, and potentially even bolster, this critical aspect of deterrence. It draws on extensive case studies from the Pacific Islands and Latin America and the Caribbean, obtained through in-depth interviews with representatives from Taiwan and its partners in those regions.

Taiwan’s democratic awakening and its diplomatic space

Taiwan’s complicated diplomatic status is rooted in its history. In 1945, the Republic of China (ROC), which had served as the ruling government on the Chinese mainland since the end of the Qing Dynasty in 1911 and fought on the allied side in World War II, accepted Japan’s surrender in Taiwan and took over the island’s administration pursuant to Allied General Order No. 1. In 1949, the CCP defeated the ROC in mainland China and the ROC fled to Taiwan, but the civil war continued. At that time, most nations still maintained formal diplomatic relationships with the ROC, which occupied the “China” seat at the United Nations (claiming to represent all of China at the time, including Taiwan and Mongolia) from its island perch.

In the 1970s, as the CCP’s power grew, many countries began to support its claim as the sole legitimate government of China, shifting their diplomatic recognition from Taipei to Beijing.2 In 1971, recognizing that the ROC no longer enjoyed majority UN support to occupy the “China” seat, the ROC government in Taiwan preemptively left the United Nations as a formal nation-state member. In 1979, the United States switched its own diplomatic recognition from the ROC in Taipei to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in Beijing. Since then, Washington has maintained an official diplomatic relationship with Beijing and an “unofficial” relationship with Taipei. However, this is based on an assumption that Beijing will not seek to take Taiwan by force. The 1979 Taiwan Relations Act (TRA) states that the US “decision to establish diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China rests upon the expectation that the future of Taiwan will be determined by peaceful means.”3 The United States also pledged in the TRA to “provide Taiwan with arms of a defensive character” and “maintain the capacity of the United States to resist any resort to force or other forms of coercion that would jeopardize the security, or the social or economic system, of the people on Taiwan.”4

In 1996, Taiwan held its first direct presidential election, marking the island’s official transition to democracy. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Taiwan’s growing democratization brought identity issues to the fore. Those who came to Taiwan in 19495 with the Kuomintang (KMT) brought ties from the mainland and largely supported the idea of a Chinese nation including both the mainland and Taiwan. By the 2000s, the KMT had begun to prioritize a close and peaceful relationship with Beijing. In contrast, Hoklo Taiwanese who immigrated to the island prior to 1949 were generally more suspicious of Beijing. They tended to support an independent Taiwan—separate from mainland China—and to identify with the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP).

As the island developed its own identity at home, Beijing steadily pushed Taiwan out of international spaces abroad. In 1969, Taiwan had seventy official diplomatic partners. By 1996, that number was down to thirty. Taiwan lost its membership in international organizations such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. Successive democratically elected leaders in Taipei tried to find ways to thread a tricky diplomatic needle: maintaining Taiwan’s international presence without claiming to also represent mainland China or directly refute the need to declare a de jure independent nation of Taiwan, which would trigger conflict with the CCP. 6 From 1988 to 2000, then President Lee Tung-Hui (a KMT politician) positioned the island as the “Republic of China on Taiwan” in a bid to carve out space for Taiwan at the United Nations, separate from Beijing’s China but without declaring independence from Beijing. This became a compromise term within Taiwan, one that Taiwan’s pro-independence crowd and those who still believed in a single China under the ROC (including both the island and the mainland) could both accept politically. All of Taiwan’s presidential administrations (including the present one) have maintained this official position.7

From 2000 to 2008, then President Chen Shui-Bian’s DPP administration tried to use Taiwan’s then superior economic resources to cultivate new diplomatic partners. That effort was largely unsuccessful. From 2008 to 2016, under then President Ma Ying-Jeou’s KMT administration, Beijing agreed to a “diplomatic truce” in which it would not seek to poach Taiwan’s diplomatic partners and the Ma administration would refrain from asserting Taiwan’s sovereignty on the international stage. Beijing was willing to offer this olive branch because it correctly viewed the KMT as more accommodationist toward Beijing than the DPP. This approach preserved Taiwan’s partners but confused them regarding Taiwan’s status vis-à-vis Beijing.

Everything changed in 2016. The people of Taiwan elected DPP candidate Tsai Ing-Wen as president (2016–2024). Beijing despised Tsai because her electoral success represented a step back in China’s ambitions to “reunify” the island with the mainland and bring it under CCP control. The Chinese government responded with a scorched-earth approach that ratcheted up the pressure on Taiwan across all domains. Militarily, Beijing increased its military exercises around Taiwan and incursions into Taiwan’s air defense identification zone (ADIZ). On the diplomatic front, Beijing stepped up the old “three none policy,” which aims to leave none of Taiwan’s diplomatic partners standing, none of Taiwan’s international space intact, and Taiwan with none of the bargaining chips it needs to negotiate on equal grounds.8 In the multilateral space, Beijing began driving Taiwan out of arenas such as the World Health Organization that do not require nation-state status and that Taiwan had participated in up to 2016. The Chinese government also ramped up its campaign to pressure Taiwan’s remaining diplomatic partners to flip their recognition from Taipei to Beijing. From 2016 to 2023, the island’s diplomatic partners decreased from thirty to twelve. Even those nations that had already recognized Beijing as their official diplomatic partner (while maintaining unofficial relationships with Taiwan) faced intense Chinese government pressure to reduce or curtail their engagements with Taiwan.

Today, ten of Taiwan’s twelve remaining official diplomatic partners are located in two regions: the Pacific Islands and Latin America and the Caribbean.

Beijing is waging a campaign in these regions to further isolate Taiwan. In order to counter this campaign, it is critical to first understand how it has unfolded thus far. The campaign includes a mix of carrots and sticks. On the inducement side, China seeks to entice countries to switch their allegiance by offering an array of economic benefits: access to China’s market, infrastructure investments, loans, and more.9 China is very public about its inducements but tends to wield the sticks behind closed doors. This report draws on interviews with government officials and journalists from Taiwan and six of Taiwan’s remaining diplomatic partners, as well as two of its former diplomatic partners, to map the range of tools Beijing deploys in its campaign to isolate Taiwan.

The following sections utilize four case studies—Palau, St. Lucia, the Dominican Republic, and Honduras—to illuminate Beijing’s tactics.

Palau: Coercion and promises

Palau is one of Taiwan’s most important partners in the South Pacific, maintaining reciprocal embassies and direct engagement with Taipei. Taiwan has provided technical assistance to Palau since 1984, including agricultural and engineering assistance. Starting in 2017 (after the people of Taiwan elected a DPP presidential administration), the Chinese government launched a coercive campaign to push Palau to derecognize Taiwan. This has particular significance for the United States because Palau is a Compact of Free Association (COFA) member, granting basing access to the US military in exchange for US assistance. China’s success in flipping Palau would thus rob Taiwan of a diplomatic partner and also potentially undermine the US military’s ability to operate in the Indo-Pacific.

Prior to COVID-19, tourism contributed more than 40 percent of Palau’s gross domestic product (GDP), with 60 percent of tourists coming from the PRC.10 Beijing leveraged these ties for economic coercion against Palau. In November 2017, Beijing banned Chinese tour group travel to Palau as part of a broader coercion campaign against multiple Taiwan partner nations.11 To restrict tourism from all nations, Chinese-owned and operated hotels on Palau blocked bookings for months at a time, keeping rooms empty to prevent tourists from visiting the island and hiking up prices for airlines seeking accommodation for overbooked passengers. In 2024, the Chinese government declared Palau unsafe to travel.12 Beijing also banned Palau’s presence at the Pacific Asia Travel Association in Macau, despite Palau being a member.13

Palau—along with other Pacific Island countries—also faces Chinese government bullying in regional settings such the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF). In 2022, despite being barred from attendance, China attempted to attend the PIF Summit for the Suva Agreement, an agreement on how future PIF leadership will be elected and rotated between all members. The representative was removed but later demanded bilateral meetings with individual members and lobbied for China’s own draft version of the agreement on how to determine future PIF leadership. The attempt failed but a source in Palau was alarmed and saw Beijing’s attempted interference as an example of how Beijing could target Palau and other regional Taiwan partners on Taiwan-related issues during multilateral meetings.14

China has also increased maritime harassment near Palau’s territorial waters and submarine cables, with Chinese research vessels entering Palau’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ) without notification and getting within range of sensitive facilities on the island.15 Beijing times these incursions to coincide with storms, when the waves are too high for Palauan patrol boats to intercept them.

Due to these ongoing activities, there is substantial anti-China sentiment in Palau. Yet Beijing promises benefits if Palau switches recognition, including promises to “flood Palau with visitors” and satisfy “whatever Palau needs.”16

Thus far, local support remains lukewarm, driven by an inability to articulate the benefits of siding with China and the exact vision of such a future, as well as concerns around regional experiences such as China’s takeover of Sri Lanka’s Hambantota Port and the way unsustainable Chinese lending contributed to Tonga’s astronomical debt.17 There are also regional examples that do not instill confidence, including an instance in which Chinese firms bought a lease for land development in Palau but never followed through, China’s unfulfilled promise to Kiribati for an airstrip, and the opacity of Kiribati’s dealing with Beijing.18 One source indicated that, while loan-based projects offered by Taiwan have negotiated fixed interest rates, China tends to manipulate interest rates and is reluctant to provide grants, share expertise, or address local concerns.19 In addition, China tends to extend the grace period of repayment without extending the maturity, resulting in a spike in repayment amounts for the last few years and placing enormous pressure on island governments.20

A diplomat from one of Palau’s Pacific neighbors also complained that while they regularly tried to talk to China about their own development needs, Beijing rarely listened. Instead, China came back with its own economic development concepts, designs, engineers, and contractors, and was not open to consultation.

While local experts estimate that about one-third of Palauans might consider switching recognition to China in the future, Palau President Surangel Whipps, Jr., is strongly anti-China, declaring “Palau is already at war with China.” This moment, in which China has adopted a “biding its time” approach to neutralizing Palau, presents a good opportunity to reassess Taiwan and the United States’ strategy for empowering Palau and blocking further PRC encroachment into the Pacific.

St. Lucia: Coercion and unfulfilled promises

The island nation of St. Lucia is a unique case in that it initially flipped diplomatic recognition from Taipei to Beijing in 1997 but flipped back to Taipei in 2007. Those flips followed electoral shifts: the St. Lucia Labor Party (SLP) came to power in 1997 (triggering the first flip) and the United Workers’ Party (UWP) in 2007 (triggering the second). Along the way, China’s unfulfilled economic promises grew stale. When the SLP regained power in 2011, coinciding with China and Taiwan’s diplomatic truce under Ma and the KMT, the SLP decided that sticking with Taiwan was in St. Lucia’s best interest.

St. Lucia’s initial switch to Beijing was partially motivated by then Foreign Minister George Odlum’s desire to jumpstart major infrastructure projects. Beijing promised St. Lucia a fifteen-thousand-seat football stadium and a national mental health hospital. However, Beijing lost interest in these projects after it achieved St. Lucia’s diplomatic switch. Both projects became emblematic of unmet promises. After signing a memorandum of understanding (MoU) to develop the stadium, China determined—without consulting St. Lucia—that the island did not require such a large stadium. Beijing unilaterally downgraded the plan to a smaller, 7,000–8000-seat stadium. Sources interviewed for this report expressed great displeasure with the downgrade and the fact that St. Lucia was not consulted. The electronic scoreboard for the smaller stadium stopped working a week after installation and the steel railing around the audience seating area began to crumble from rust soon after. The St. Lucian government considered demolishing the stadium, but ultimately decided to turn its clubhouse into an outpatient area for a local hospital. Chinese contractors never finished the national mental hospital; the project dragged on in a ten-year design and construction process.

By 2007, St. Lucia decided it had made a mistake in switching to Beijing and that Taiwan’s previous assistance was more valuable than Beijing’s unfulfilled promises. Once the UWP regained power, the pro-Taiwan John Compton cabinet orchestrated a switch back to recognizing Taiwan. Beijing responded by dismantling the partially constructed national mental hospital. Chinese firms took everything that was remotely useful from the site—including parts from unfinished elevators, cables, and other materiel—for transport back to China. They then salted the earth around the hospital so nothing could grow there. The hospital, however, was later completed with Taiwan’s assistance after the 2007 switch.

The 2008–2016 diplomatic truce between China and Taiwan (during the time when Taiwan elected KMT presidential administrations and Beijing sought better relations with the island) limited China’s overt retaliatory actions against St. Lucia. However, covert efforts continue. Of particular concern, Beijing appears to be leveraging regional settings such as Caribbean Community (CARICOM) meetings to pressure its own partners in the Caribbean to induce or coerce Taiwan’s regional partners to switch recognition.21 These forums are intended to focus on economic issues, but the nations that recognize Beijing periodically bring up Taiwan’s recognition in ministerial meetings. When pressed, representatives from those nations have admitted that they are doing so due to Chinese pressure.

From St. Lucia’s perspective, Taiwan has proven to be a steady partner. Following its disastrous infrastructure deals with the PRC, St. Lucia pivoted to focus on developing existing agricultural industries such as bananas and watermelons, two products that Taiwan’s agricultural experts have a strong technical background in. As a small island developing country, St. Lucia prioritizes education and healthcare, and Taiwan’s more flexible and responsive aid and scholarship programs were well received by the local population. Taiwan’s International Cooperation and Development Fund (ICDF) and its Ministry of Foreign Affairs join forces to offer roughly forty scholarships exclusively for St. Lucian students to study in Taiwan every year, predominantly for undergraduate degrees. Taiwan’s first post-2007 ambassador also pioneered and paid for local irrigation cannels that subcontract local labor for construction. While relations between St. Lucia and Taiwan remain strong, this moment calls for Taiwan and the United States to organize a “best fit” plan to integrate St. Lucia into the United States’ and Taiwan’s industrial and agricultural supply chains.

The Dominican Republic: Flip leads to frustration

The Dominican Republic established diplomatic relations with the PRC in 2018 and cut relations with Taiwan. The sources consulted for this case study—who include high-ranking public officials, former cabinet members, and industry association leaders—said hopes were high about the advantages of strengthening relations with China. They also agreed that these hopes have not been realized, and that the Dominican Republic is generally frustrated with the results.

China began engaging the Dominican Republic (DR) in the 1990s, when the latter was still a Taiwan diplomatic partner, signing an economic and diplomatic cooperation agreement with Santo Domingo in 1993 and opening commercial offices in the Dominican Republic. Diplomatic collaboration between Santo Domingo and Beijing widened in the 2000s, including mutual support when either nation applied for seats in UN offices and councils.

In 2005, Beijing decided to launch a pressure campaign to push the Dominican Republic to flip its official diplomatic partnership from Taipei to Beijing. Then Foreign Minister Carlos Morales Troncoso met then PRC Vice President Zeng Qinghong to discuss plans for President Leonel Fernández’s to visit China. At that meeting, Zeng claimed that the Dominican Republic had committed to establishing diplomatic relations with the PRC when signing the 1993 economic agreement, and that the PRC was increasingly upset that the commitment hadn’t been honored. Zeng also said that a friend of Taiwan was an enemy of China. He reminded the foreign minister that, without formal diplomatic relations between the PRC and the Dominican Republic, the PRC could not receive the DR president as a head of state and thus the president’s planned visit to China could not proceed as planned.

Taiwan tried to keep the Dominican Republic onside with new investments and commitments. In 2018, then President Danilo Medina announced the Dominican Republic would cut relations with Taiwan and pivot to the PRC. Administration officials publicly denied it would take place until they suddenly announced it. The private sector generally welcomed the change. A national business association publicly praised it, noting that major Dominican importers of machinery and other goods had created sustained pressure for flipping to China. Meanwhile, the PRC helped the Dominican Republic’s effort to attain a UN Security Council nonpermanent seat. This was something the Dominican Republic failed to secure several times between October 2001 and 2018 but—only thirty-eight days after switching diplomatic recognition—it succeeded, backed by Beijing’s lobbying, winning the General Assembly vote with 184 out of 190 ballots.

However, expectations soon soured. Business leaders have been especially disappointed with the PRC’s commercial penetration via stores that sell all kinds of cheap goods—sometimes in direct competition with Dominican products—and use Chinese clerks and Haitian laborers instead of employing Dominican nationals. This dislocated Dominican commercial institutions and disrupted all levels of commerce. Chinese companies also evade local regulatory guidelines. When tax and customs authorities attempt to audit PRC businesses for tax evasion, these businesses have been known to evade enforcement by relocating or opening another operation with a different name and commercial registration.

There are also concerns about illegal mining. PRC mining companies have exported bauxite at suspiciously high volumes and prices because their exports actually contain higher-value titanium dioxide and rare earths. PRC companies have acquired copper mine rights from the Dominican Mining Corporation (CORMIDOM) and there are rumors of Chinese operations in the Falcondo ferronickel project. At present, DR officials do not seem to be seriously considering flipping back to Taiwan as St. Lucia did. However, there is growing DR interest in welcoming Taiwan to establish a commercial representative office in the Dominican Republic, which would be consistent with how most nations balance official relations with China and unofficial relations with Taiwan. Dominican officials state that, when the Medina government negotiated the pivot, it did not accept Beijing’s demands for an exclusivity clause preventing relations with Taiwan. They point out that all of China’s BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa) partners—as well as Japan, South Korea, and the United States—maintain unofficial relations with Taiwan.

Case study: Honduras

Honduras established diplomatic relations with what was then the government of China in 1941, when the ROC government still resided on the mainland. Tegucigalpa continued diplomatic relations with Taiwan until March 2023, when the new government under Xiomara Castro severed ties, established formal relations with the PRC, and announced that Honduras recognized “only one China in the World” with Beijing its sole and legitimate government.22 Castro made switching diplomatic relations part of her campaign for office, in contrast with her predecessor Juan Orlando Hernández (2014–2022). The shift reflected growing economic pressure, including Honduras’s high external debt, Taiwan’s refusal to forgive a $2.45-billion loan, and enticements such as the lure of a free trade agreement with China and promised Chinese investment in a hydroelectric dam that Taiwan was unable to match.23 Conversations with a Honduran journalist confirmed this account: the Honduran government issued “a kind of diplomatic ultimatum to Taiwan” to renegotiate Honduras’s debt with Taiwan and support public infrastructure construction.24

While Honduras tried to negotiate better concessions from Taiwan, China’s tactics included a combination of threats and enticements that influenced the Honduran government’s decision.25 Two years after the switch, a closer look at the actual fallout illuminates some of the short- to medium-term impacts.

In July 2023, following the flip, China and Honduras began negotiating a free trade agreement (FTA) that promised to reduce or eliminate tariffs and improve access to the Chinese market for Honduran exports. Early negotiations also laid out a framework around “comprehensive and in-depth” consultations on trade in services as well as investment protections and rules.26 While still ongoing, the FTA negotiations reached an “early harvest” agreement that both countries signed in early 2024.27 Honduras hasn’t joined the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) but signed two MoUs—one in June 2023 and a second in December 2024—as part of the process to join.

To many Hondurans in the business sector, the results of the FTA have been meager so far and private-sector sources interviewed for this report have complained about not being sufficiently represented in the FTA negotiation committee.28 Shrimp producers and exporters were the main losers from the diplomatic pivot. Cutting ties with Taiwan—the industry’s principal buyer—devastated the sector, and exports fell by 67 percent after Honduras switched recognition and Taiwan terminated the Honduras-Taiwan FTA.29 Interviewed sources framed this loss within a broader concern about replacing a trade partner with which Honduras maintained a positive balance (Taiwan) with one with which it holds a large deficit (the PRC).

Since the pivot to the PRC, local businesses in Honduras’s main cities have grown increasingly uneasy about the growing number of Chinese-owned establishments competing with them. One source cited rising Sinophobia among local shop owners as a concern. Labor law compliance has also drawn attention, and recent reporting revealed that Chinese construction companies employ a higher percentage of Chinese workers than Honduran regulations allow.30

While the Castro government will leave office at the end of January 2026, and both candidates vying for the presidency vowed to reengage Taiwan, the way the Castro government engaged with China is illustrative for other countries in the region. Both local sources cited above warned that information about negotiations between the Castro government and the PRC is worryingly opaque. There is little public knowledge about the content of the ongoing FTA talks, and business leaders report feeling inadequately represented.31 They also noted that only one of the seventeen diplomatic agreements signed between the PRC and Honduras in 2023 has been even partially implemented. One local journalist interviewed for this report said analysts have cautioned that China is a demanding creditor—unlike development partners that offer flexible debt renegotiation—and warned that access to public resources and strategic infrastructure could be jeopardized if Honduras misses payments. He added that the lack of transparency and anti-corruption oversight in Chinese credit lines is also troubling.

Another local journalist observed that while PRC-funded projects to improve education and build agricultural schools have progressed, they remain incomplete. Meanwhile, Taiwan’s scholarship program has been suspended. Honduran students still studying in Taiwan receive inadequate support, and the PRC has yet to meaningfully replace this program as promised.

Finally, local journalists expressed concern about Chinese censorship and surveillance. The Chinese embassy issued a press release condemning critical coverage of the shrimp export collapse by Honduran outlet El Heraldo. The embassy demanded that the newspaper refrain from referring to Taiwan as separate from mainland China, claiming such phrasing violated the “one China” policy. Although the press release was later removed from the embassy website following public backlash, local journalists interpreted it as an attempt at censorship. These concerns compound existing fears about surveillance, especially after the national telecommunications company signed an agreement with Huawei to provide police monitoring technology and security camera systems—an arrangement that could enable Chinese government espionage and raises national security concerns.

Lessons and recommendations for Taiwan, its partners, and the United States

A closer look at China’s engagement with Taiwan’s current and former partners reveals a concerning pattern. China consistently targets Taiwan’s partners with diplomatic and economic pressure urging them to switch their official recognition to Beijing. Once that happens, China’s interest in and support for the target nation appears to diminish, as reflected by the lack of follow-through on promises made to countries in the years following a switch. As a result, these countries face economic loss on two fronts. They forgo the benefits they previously gained working with Taiwan, and the engagement with Beijing either fails to meet their expectations or, as in the Dominican Republic’s (and potentially Honduras’s) experience, brings new models of commerce that undercut local production and the local tax base. As a journalist in one of these countries put it, there was “no golden pot at the end of the rainbow.”32

This pattern presents an opportunity for Taiwan to proactively engage its remaining diplomatic partners to prevent economic and diplomatic disengagement. It also serves as a warning to countries considering switching recognition. Lastly, given that most of Taiwan’s partners are in Latin America and the Caribbean and the Indo-Pacific—two regions of utmost strategic importance to the United States—these case studies also present opportunities for the US to reengage with Taiwan on jointly maintaining those partnerships.

Taiwan

The interviews and case studies conducted for this report suggest five key recommendations for Taiwan.

Clarify exactly what Taipei gains from diplomatic partnerships. If certain relationships are a high priority, invest to maintain them.

Taiwan lacks a clear strategy for leveraging diplomatic partners as deterrence against China. It needs one. If certain nations are critical for Taiwan’s international presence and voice, Taipei should prioritize and invest in them. Many diplomatic partners expressed confusion over Taiwan’s stance on sovereignty and cross-strait issues. More communication is needed if these partners are to support Taiwan’s diplomatic standing. Alternatively, if commercial engagement suffices for deterrence and diplomatic recognition is less important, Taiwan should shift its resources accordingly and focus on those nations that are a priority for other reasons, regardless of their diplomatic stance.

Highlight China’s broken promises.

Based on the case studies above, when China uses inducements to bring about a flip in recognition, these promises often fall short. Taiwan should share these examples widely with current partners.

Offer what Taiwan can, and coordinate with the United States and likeminded countries.

Countries’ needs differ depending on their unique circumstances and levels of development. Aid should match Taiwan’s strategic goals of preserving diplomatic space and imposing costs on China, and should include some of Taiwan’s competitive advantages—bespoke aid and technological assistance that addresses specific needs of small island countries. Taiwan should also leverage US and allied efforts to counter Chinese influence, collaborating on solutions such as integrating Taiwan’s current and prospective diplomatic partners into trusted supply chains where doing so makes economic sense for all parties.

In the case of St. Lucia, while a US-Taiwan joint assistance effort has been discussed since 2018, little concrete cooperation has materialized. Taking inspiration from Taiwan’s recent efforts to integrate Guatemala into the US-Taiwan semiconductor supply chain, and from the second Trump administration’s focus on the Western Hemisphere, the United States and Taiwan should leverage their respective technical expertise and available resources to elevate St. Lucia’s economic position by integrating it into global supply chains or channeling transnational tourism such as cruise ships to St. Lucia, among other strategic partners in the region.

The Dominican Republic needs support with both agriculture and housing, two areas where targeted assistance from Taiwan would be very welcome. Taiwan could contribute significantly through academic and scientific collaboration and commercial partnerships around advanced mechanization, modernization, and automation of the Dominican Republic’s agriculture sector. With regard to housing, Taiwan could bring its expertise in construction of large housing complexes to the Dominican Republic. With a historical housing deficit exceeding 1 million units, the Dominican Republic desperately needs capabilities to assist in this area (and Beijing is not delivering on this front, creating an opportunity to build other partnerships).

Increase capacity building and law-enforcement cooperation.

In Palau, the Global Cooperation Training Framework (GCTF) interventions have received high praise for their contribution to capacity building in cybersecurity and investigating artificial intelligence (AI)-related criminal activities. However, additional efforts in training and equipment are needed to ensure the Palau government has what it needs to ensure transparency and independence from Chinese maritime coercion.

Similarly, in the Caribbean, St. Lucia relies heavily on foreign assistance for both its current stability and future development. Capacity building programs such as those provided by the GCTF received universal praise from sources interviewed for this report. These workshops covered topics from empowering local women to start businesses to maritime disaster prevention to counter-narcotics. Drug trafficking through the region, specifically the gun violence associated with narcotic activities, poses a significant threat to St. Lucia’s major industry of tourism. Additional joint efforts by the United States and Taiwan in this area should prove beneficial to trilateral interests. The United States is St. Lucia’s main source of tourism, so these efforts would also directly benefit the United States by keeping Americans safe and reducing trafficking into the United States.

Maintain a principled approach to diplomatic outreach.

While the PRC pressures its regional partners to exclude Taiwan and counter US influence, the United States and Taiwan should leverage regional settings to highlight their principled approach. Two cases highlight these contrasting approaches. In 2017, Hurricane Maria devastated the Commonwealth of Dominica. Dominica requested aid from Taiwan through the Organization of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS) and Taipei agreed, even though Taiwan does not have an official diplomatic relationship with Dominica. In contrast, when Taiwan’s diplomatic partner St. Vincent and the Grenadines experienced a volcano eruption in 2019 and requested assistance from China through the OECS, Beijing refused to provide aid on account of the country’s diplomatic ties with Taiwan. Beijing’s actions affirmed its political priorities over humanitarian ones and provided an opportunity for the United States and Taiwan to demonstrate their more principled stance.

For Taiwan’s partners

Lessons from countries that switched to China include the following:

View China’s promises with caution.

Honduras swapped a positive trade balance with Taiwan for a trade deficit with China, while Chinese-owned establishments undercut local Honduran businesses. Similar patterns emerged in the Dominican Republic, where Chinese stores sell cheap consumer products that compete with domestic production rather than transform the Dominican productive structure or integrate PRC firms into export-oriented or domestic manufacturing.

Honduran shrimp farmers suffered greatly, with exports declining by 67 percent after Honduras switched its recognition to China and Taiwan terminated its FTA. St. Lucia saw China fail to address World Trade Organization (WTO)-related losses stemming from the “banana wars,” a long-running trade dispute (1993–2009) between the European Union (EU), the United States, US-based banana companies (e.g., Chiquita, Dole), Latin American banana-producing countries (Ecuador, Guatemala, Honduras), and Caribbean small-island exporters, including St. Lucia.

Two years after the switch, China had only implemented one of the seventeen agreements it signed with Honduras. In the Dominican Republic, the expected and hoped for influx of Chinese investment and construction never materialized. Instead of producing aluminum at a plant in the Dominican Republic, Chinese investors imported aluminum from China and labeled it as locally made. In St. Lucia, construction of the national mental health hospital dragged on for ten years and was finished only after Taiwan stepped in.

For the United States

Partner with Taiwan to support local needs including disaster relief.

The United States should consider helping to sustain Taiwan’s official diplomatic relations as a means to uphold the international status quo and deterrence. To that end, it could deepen cooperation between the US Development Finance Corporation (DFC) and Taiwan’s International Cooperation and Development Fund (ICDF), providing infrastructure and economic growth programming to Taiwan’s partners. Expanding the MoU between the American Institute in Taiwan (AIT), the Taipei Economic and Cultural Representative Office in the United States (TECRO), and the DFC would leverage the DFC’s financial tools and the ICDF’s trusted presence.33 Additionally, the increased US military presence and base access in the Western Hemisphere can also provide, in conjunction with Taiwan’s ICDF and NGOs such as Tzu Chi, increased capacity for disaster relief for Taiwan’s diplomatic partners in the region.

Moreover, future friendshoring and nearshoring efforts targeting Taiwan’s partners should ideally be done in coordination with the United States and its allies. Current joint US and Taiwanese efforts to include Guatemala in the semiconductor supply chain could be a template for these future endeavors.34 Future joint initiatives could focus on resilient infrastructure, renewable energy, and digital transformation—areas in which both Washington and Taipei seek to counterbalance Beijing’s state-led investments under the BRI.

Increase technical support and leadership for strategic local communities.

Technical support and aid from the United States and Taiwan are both visible and popular in Palau but are seen as underwhelming. The US military recognizes Palau’s strategic significance for future conflicts with China and conducts air defense exercises there, firing PATRIOT missiles from Palau into the surrounding ocean. Local residents know a single training round costs around $1.5 million. They see a disparity between what the United States spends firing missiles from the island versus its meager investments in the infrastructure assistance Palau urgently needs. Working with local communities to identify and fill targeted local infrastructure needs would go a long way toward winning local hearts and minds.

Similarly, a coalition of Pacific countries that includes the United States could help to counter China’s playbook in the Pacific. China often bullies individual smaller countries in bilateral meetings on issues concerning the United States and Taiwan, while playing them against their neighbors. And with enough countries in its pocket, China can then manufacture regional consensus in regional multilaterals against US and Taiwanese interests. To that end, the United States and Taiwan should leverage the close-knit nature of Pacific communities, counter China’s attempts to monopolize regional meetings, and strengthen US-Pacific ties through subnational diplomacy (such as close ties between American Samoa, Guam, Hawaii, and Pacific countries). Holding future regional forums on US territories that discuss regional affairs and collaboration would counter China’s influence playbook by leveraging the US presence and stake in the Pacific, something China sorely lacks.

Conclusion

Maintaining Taiwan’s diplomatic relationships is not a sentimental task; it is a matter of strategic deterrence for both Taipei and Washington. Beijing does not execute a global diplomatic campaign without a purpose. It is systematically targeting Taiwan’s partners in a bid to isolate the island and provide more maneuvering room for potential future Chinese coercion against Taiwan. Slowing that progression could provide a countervailing force, causing China to question how big of an international outcry it could face if it violates Taiwan’s security. And there are weaknesses at the center of Beijing’s approach. From Honduras and St. Lucia to the Dominican Republic and Palau, these case studies reveal a consistent pattern: China couples high-visibility promises with diplomatic and economic coercion but often underdelivers once it achieves its goal of flipping recognition. Moreover, countries often find themselves more economically vulnerable and more exposed to opaque governance and policies after the switch, since China rarely discloses financial details of its loan or investment, nor does it require their partner countries to do so for their populace. By contrast, Taiwan’s engagement—while often under-resourced and strategically under-articulated—tends to be steadier, better at addressing actual needs, more reliable, and better aligned with partner countries’ long-term development goals.

For Taipei, there is an urgent need to clarify Taiwan’s diplomatic and strategic objectives with partner countries. If there are material benefits to having more diplomatic partners or keeping certain nations onside, then Taiwan should invest in these nations accordingly, share “buyer beware” lessons learned from recent switchers, and coordinate with the United States and likeminded partners and democracies to address the needs that Taiwan cannot meet alone.

For Taipei’s partners, the pattern of China’s behavior suggests the need to carefully weigh Beijing’s short-term inducements (and any political wins they might produce for local officials) against long-term structural economic imbalances and overreliance on the PRC, as well as recognizing the strategic value of ties with Taiwan, especially vis-á-vis the United States.

For Washington, there is an urgent need to make its own assessments about exactly what Taiwan’s diplomatic partners mean for the island’s peace and stability. If these relationships bolster deterrence, then the United States has an interest in maintaining the status quo. Given China’s campaign to further undermine it, that requires countering China’s actions to peel Taiwan’s partners away one by one. That will require the United States to think seriously about the benefits it offers these partners and how it can team up with Taiwan to offer a stronger economic deal. The United States already has a joint partnership agreement with Taiwan on development activities in third-party countries, via the DFC-ICDF Memorandum of Understanding on Advancing Private Sector Investment Opportunities signed in 2024. The State Department should consider putting current Taiwan diplomatic partners on the list for targeted projects next year, when the United States and Taiwan will likely convene their next Economic Prosperity Partnership Dialogue.

For decades, the United States has coasted on the issue of Taiwan’s formal diplomatic partners, standing back and watching China execute flips, but largely staying on the sidelines due to discomfort around the fact that the United States itself flipped recognition in 1979. Washington must recognize that coasting will result in the number of Taiwan’s official partners diminishing further. If Washington and Taipei decide that is not a concern, then coasting can continue. If, however, both sides agree this is a key element in deterrence, then both sides will need a much more targeted diplomatic approach. China stopped coasting in 2016 and hasn’t slowed down since.

Correction: A previous version of this report misstated the nature of Taiwan’s diplomatic positioning under former President Lee Tung-Hui. The Lee administration avoided declaring de jure independence, which would trigger a conflict with the CCP, but it did refute Beijing’s claim to represent the island.

About the authors

Acknowledgements

This report is the culmination of a year-long research project made possible through the generous support of the Taipei Economic and Cultural Representative Office in the United States (TECRO).

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1    Dean Cheng, “The Three Warfares”: Informationized Warfare at the Strategic Level, 中華民國國防部, https://www.mnd.gov.tw/File/32443.
2    This took place ahead of the passage of UN Resolution 2758 expelling then ROC President Chang Kai-Shek and his representatives from the United Nations.
3    “Taiwan Relations Act (Public Law 96-8, 22 U.S.C. 3301 et Seq.),” American Institute in Taiwan, March 30, 2022, http://www.ait.org.tw/taiwan-relations-act-public-law-96-8-22-u-s-c-3301-et-seq/.
4    Ibid.
5    Political allegiances for the indigenous tribes however were mostly toward KMT, largely due to KMT taking over Japanese institutions serving and controlling pacified tribes after the Japanese left Taiwan. “Will Indigenous People Continue to Support KMT? BBC News Mandarin, Feb 22, 2016, https://www.bbc.com/zhongwen/trad/china/2016/02/160222_taiwan_kmt_aboriginal.
6    Beijing perceives itself as the legitimate successor nation to the ROC and argues that Taiwan was part of China’s Qing Dynasty until the unjust Treaty of Shimonoseki ceded Taiwan to Japan, a situation that was rectified through the return of Taiwan to ROC in 1945, with the PRC becoming the successor nation of the ROC in 1949.
7    The term went through many iterations from 1995–2025, including the Republic of China on Taiwan, Republic of China is Taiwan, Republic of China in Taiwan, and Republic of China Taiwan.
8    “Multilateral Diplomacy to Break China’s Three None Policy,” Liberty Times, May 21, 2006, https://news.ltn.com.tw/news/politics/paper/72648.
9    For a more detailed explanation, see: William Piekos, “How Beijing Uses Inducements as a Tool of Economic Statecraft,” Atlantic Council, March 24, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/how-beijing-uses-inducements-as-a-tool-of-economic-statecraft/.
10    “2023 Investment Climate Statements: Palau,” US Department of State, December 2, 2025, https://www.state.gov/reports/2023-investment-climate-statements/palau.
11    “中國禁團遊帛琉 帛琉大使:爭取多元客源 中央社 CNA, 中央通訊社,” Central News Agency, December 16, 2017, https://www.cna.com.tw/news/aipl/201712160106.aspx; “China Issues Travel Warning for Palau Following Hack Accusation,” Bloomberg, June 13, 2024, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2024-06-13/china-issues-travel-warning-for-palau-following-hack-accusation.
12    China Warns Citizens of Travel Risks in Palau,” Island Times, June 14, 2024, https://islandtimes.org/china-warns-citizens-of-travel-risks-in-palau/.
13    Julian Ryall, “Palau President Speaks on China and Geo-political Realities,” Marianas Business Journal, September 27, 2024, https://www.mbjguam.com/palau-president-speaks-china-and-geo-political-realities; “Palau President Accuses China of ‘Weaponizing Tourism,’” Agence France-Presse, August 15, 2024, https://www.abs-cbn.com/world/2024/8/15/palau-president-accuses-china-of-weaponizing-tourism-2206.
14    Jessica Collins, “What Happened at the Pacific Islands Forum,” Interpreter, Lowy Institute, July 27, 2022, https://www.lowyinstitute.org/the-interpreter/what-happened-pacific-islands-forum.
15    Andrew Harding, “Probing Palau’s Waters: Chinese Ships Are Increasingly Active in the Pacific,” Heritage Foundation, July 17, 2023, https://www.heritage.org/global-politics/commentary/probing-palaus-waters-chinese-ships-are-increasingly-active-the-pacific; Charles Engelbrecht, “The Palau Spy Ship Incident: A Deep Dive,” Domino Theory, June 13, 2023, https://dominotheory.com/the-palau-spy-ship-incident-a-deep-dive/.
16    Tristan Hilderbrand, “China Pressures Palau to Cut Ties with Taiwan,” RTI News, August 16, 2024, https://www.rti.org.tw/en/news?uid=3&pid=8510.
17    Jonathan E. Hillman, “Game of Loans: How China Bought Hambantota,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, April 2, 2018, https://www.csis.org/analysis/game-loans-how-china-bought-hambantota; Doug Dingwall and Marian Kupu, “Pacific Island Nations Owe ‘Astronomical’ Debts to China. Can They Repay?” ABC News, July 27, 2024, https://www.abc.net.au/news/2024-07-28/pacific-island-nations-owe-astronomical-debts-to-china/104140248.
18    Jonathan Barrett, “Kiribati Says China-Backed Pacific Airstrip Project for Civilian Use,” Reuters, May 13, 2021, https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/kiribati-says-china-backed-pacific-airstrip-project-civilian-use-2021-05-13/; Christine Rovoi, “‘Lack of Transparency’: Kiribati Opposition Leader Wary of Govt’s Dealings with China,” PMN News, November 4, 2024, https://pmn.co.nz/read/pacific-region/kiribati-govt-s-lack-of-transparency-with-china-a-concern-opposition-leader.
19    Dingwall and Kupu, “Pacific Island Nations Owe ‘Astronomical’ Debts to China. Can They Repay?”
20    Riley Duke, et al., “Lowy Institute Pacific Aid Map: 2025 Key Findings Report,” Lowy Institute, 2025, https://pacificaidmap.lowyinstitute.org/downloads/Lowy-Institute-Pacific-Aid-Map-Key-Findings-Report-2025.pdf.
21    The CARICOM countries with diplomatic relations to China are Antigua and Barbuda, the Bahamas, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, Guyana, Jamaica, Suriname, and Trinidad and Tobago. St. Lucia, St. Vincent and Grenadines, and St. Kitts and Nevis are Taiwan’s regional partners.
22    “Honduras Breaks Diplomatic Ties with Taiwan,” Deutsche Welle, March 26, 2023, https://www.dw.com/en/honduras-breaks-diplomatic-ties-with-taiwan/a-65123318.
23    “Taiwan Recalls Ambassador as Honduras Switches Ties to China,” Associated Press, March 23, 2023, https://apnews.com/article/china-taiwan-honduras-us-diplomatic-ties-87bdfd07bc39d82fbec22b92785fea3d; Piekos, “How Beijing Uses Inducements as a Tool of Economic Statecraft.”
24    Anonymous Honduran journalist, interview with authors, October 31, 2015.
25    For a deeper dive into the incentives, see: Piekos, “How Beijing Uses Inducements as a Tool of Economic Statecraft.”
26    Gustavo Palencia, “China, Honduras Launch Negotiations over Free Trade Agreement,” Reuters, July 4, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/world/china-honduras-launch-negotiations-over-free-trade-agreement-2023-07-04/; “Honduras and China Are Advancing in Negotiations for the Signing of an FTA,” Fundación Andrés Bello, June 5, 2025, https://fundacionandresbello.org/en/news/honduras-%F0%9F%87%AD%F0%9F%87%B3-news/honduras-and-china-are-advancing-in-negotiations-for-the-signing-of-an-fta.
27    “China and Honduras Sign FTA Early Harvest Arrangement,” Ministry of Commerce, People’s Republic of China, February 7, 2024, https://english.mofcom.gov.cn/News/SignificantNews/art/2024/art_2e1c541a25004f4192ec52b811a94fe4.html.
29    Alonso Illueca, “Betting on Beijing: How a Diplomatic Switch Sank Honduras’s Shrimp Exports,” China Global South Project, August 15, 2025, https://chinaglobalsouth.com/analysis/honduras-shrimp-industry-china-pivot/.
30    “Albañiles, Carpinteros y Chef son Los Chinos que Trabajan en el Hospital del Sur,” El Heraldo, September 18, 2025, https://www.elheraldo.hn/elheraldoplus/investigaciones/albaniles-carpinteros-chinos-hospital-del-sur-MA27417913.
31    Ibid.
32    Anonymous journalist, interview with authors, October 31, 2025.
33    “DFC-Taiwan Collaboration on Advancing Private Sector Investment Opportunities,” US International Development Finance Corporation, press release, February 22, 2024, https://www.dfc.gov/media/press-releases/dfc-taiwan-collaboration-advancing-private-sector-investment-opportunities.
34    Wen and Teng, “Taiwan, Guatemala Sign Deals on Chip Cooperation, Political Consultation.”

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Inside Trump’s peace plans   https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/inside-trumps-peace-plans/ Fri, 12 Dec 2025 19:45:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=890306 From Rwanda to Cambodia, US President Donald Trump’s peace efforts mix economic pressure, trade deals, and high-profile ceremonies. His unorthodox style produces rapid results—but can it achieve lasting peace?

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US President Donald Trump has focused much of his second-term foreign policy on the idea that he is a peacemaker, and his administration’s 2025 National Security Strategy states that he has been personally involved in resolving eight conflicts within the first eight months of his second term. He has openly campaigned for the Nobel Peace Prize, and he was recently awarded the newly minted FIFA Peace Prize for his “unwavering commitment to advancing peace and unity.” 

But what results have Trump’s peace efforts yielded so far—and where do the agreements that the US administration has facilitated over the past months stand today? This series takes stock of Trump’s peace deals across the world, highlights the patterns, tools, and strategic choices that characterize them, and assesses whether they can deliver stability over the long run.

From negotiations with the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Rwanda to talks with Cambodia and Thailand, several cross-cutting themes emerge. Trump uses economic tools such as trade deals, tariff pressure, and targeted incentives to bring parties to the table and further US interests, while highly visible announcements and signing ceremonies serve to reduce tensions and lock parties into deals.

With this unorthodox style, Trump aims to position the US economy as a driver of cooperation abroad while simultaneously securing domestic wins, such as beneficial agreements on critical minerals. His style produces rapid outcomes and creates political openings that might otherwise be unattainable. However, it also runs the risk of substituting short-term gains for long-term peace.

Matthew Kroenig is vice president and senior director of the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and the Council’s director of studies.

Bailey Galicia is a program assistant with the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

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It’s all about Hamas’s disarmament https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/its-all-about-hamass-disarmament/ Fri, 12 Dec 2025 19:45:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893369 A US-brokered cease-fire ended the Israel-Hamas war, but the next phase depends on the group’s disarmament. Until that happens, Gaza’s reconstruction, regional diplomacy, and political future hang in the balance.

The post It’s all about Hamas’s disarmament appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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This article is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s series Inside Trump’s Peace Plans, which assesses the patterns, tools, and strategic choices that characterize Trump’s peace deals, and evaluates whether they can deliver lasting results. 

US President Donald Trump’s successful negotiation of a cease-fire that ended the fighting in Gaza and secured the release of Israeli hostages was a significant diplomatic success.

Driven by exhaustion on both sides and the effective application of US leverage following Israel’s strike against Hamas leaders in Doha, the deal featured Israel and Hamas agreeing to terms that both had long resisted: Israel ending fighting without a guarantee of Hamas’s removal from power, and Hamas releasing all hostages without securing Israel’s full withdrawal from Gaza.

Although Hamas has not yet released all of the bodies of deceased hostages and occasional exchanges of fire continue, the cease-fire is likely to hold in the near term. Hamas needs time to recover from the blows it has endured, and Israel is unlikely to defy Trump as he seeks to claim this win and bolster his campaign for a Nobel Peace Prize.

But phase two of Trump’s twenty-point plan will be far more difficult, with multiple obstacles to implementation.

Gaza’s future hinges on who governs

The core elements of phase two are Hamas’s disarmament, the reconstruction of Gaza, the establishment of an interim Palestinian technocratic government under an international “Board of Peace” chaired by Trump, the deployment of an international stabilization force, and the gradual return of a reformed Palestinian Authority (PA) to governance in Gaza.

All of these objectives hinge on Hamas’s disarmament. That fact has been made irrefutable by videos circulating on social media showing Hamas using its weapons to engage in retribution killings against Palestinians who have resisted the group’s authority—a gruesome method of tightening its grip on the roughly 47 percent of Gaza it still controls.

Following the October 7, 2023, Hamas attacks, I led a State Department task force on “day-after” planning for Gaza. We immediately established as one of our core planning assumptions that unless Hamas was defeated, disarmed, and removed from power, there would be no “day-after.” Following the worst attack on the Jewish people since the Holocaust, neither Israel’s leaders nor its citizens would accept Hamas emerging from another war battered but intact—still armed, still clinging to power, and still preparing for the next round of fighting.

There were also pragmatic reasons for our assessment. The postwar gains we envisioned—Gulf-funded reconstruction, an international security force, and PA involvement in governance—would all be impossible if Hamas remained armed and in control.

No stabilization without disarmament

Since these objectives also form the foundation of phase two of Trump’s plan, it is no surprise that his administration is already confronting those very challenges. Gulf states are reluctant to fund reconstruction in Gaza without a long-term solution to the conflict. Meanwhile, the countries expressing some willingness to deploy stabilization forces—including Indonesia, Azerbaijan, Egypt, the United Arab Emirates, Jordan, and Morocco—have made clear that they will not engage Hamas directly and would prefer to deploy only after the group has been fully dismantled. The PA’s track record does not inspire confidence in this regard either; after all, it was routed from Gaza by Hamas in a brief civil war in 2007.

Disarming Hamas must therefore be the overriding priority. Without it, the conflict will likely remain in suspended animation, recovery will stall, and Gaza will drift toward renewed war.

Leaving disarmament solely to the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) is, at best, a flawed strategy. While the risk of further hostage killings has been removed, other concerns persist: rising civilian and IDF casualties, deepening international isolation of Israel, and the risk of a full-scale Israeli occupation of Gaza—all of which would severely damage US and Israeli national interests and undermine prospects for expanding regional integration.

Qatar and Turkey could play a crucial role

The most viable alternative is the same tool Trump used to persuade Hamas to release all hostages after the Doha strike: leverage over Qatar and Turkey. While Trump pressed Israel to agree to a cease-fire, he used Qatar’s fear of regional escalation—and its long-standing financial ties to Hamas—to pressure the group’s leadership.

Trump also brought in Turkey, which had been largely absent from the Biden administration cease-fire efforts. Trump’s relationship with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan—who shares Hamas’s Muslim Brotherhood ideology and has allowed its leaders to live and even operate on Turkish soil—proved pivotal in persuading the group to accept the deal.

Trump leaned heavily on his transactional instincts, declaring a security guarantee for Qatar, signaling openness to an F-35 fighter jet program for Turkey, and, according to reports, easing US legal action against the country’s state-owned Halkbank, which faces charges related to helping Iran evade sanctions.

Qatar and Turkey have proven that, when properly motivated, they can exert decisive influence over Hamas. Trump should once again leverage both, using fresh incentives to press Hamas to surrender its arms to an agreed third party. A critical mass of Hamas fighters and remaining leaders could then accept safe passage into exile, allowing an international stabilization force and technical experts to safely decommission Hamas’s remaining tunnel networks. The United States and Israel have already struck a tentative agreement to allow safe passage for approximately two hundred Hamas terrorists currently in tunnels under Rafah, which, if implemented, could serve as a test case for a much larger effort across Gaza.

The road to recovery

There is precedent for this. In 1982, US diplomats helped arrange the peaceful departure of some fourteen thousand Palestine Liberation Organization personnel from Beirut while the Israeli military besieged the city. A similar effort, coordinated with and financed by key Arab states, could open the door to genuine recovery and a peaceful future for Gaza.

More than Gaza’s future is at stake. Significant opportunities to expand Middle East integration remain as well. With Iran and its proxy network profoundly weakened by Israeli and US strikes, a strengthened coalition of Israel, the United States, and Arab partners would advance the interests of all parties. A Hamas refusal to disarm, however, would freeze Gaza’s recovery and undermine progress toward Israeli-Saudi normalization, or even more modest steps such as renewing and expanding the Negev Forum—a regional cooperation framework comprising Israel, the United States, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Morocco, and Egypt—improving Israeli-Indonesian ties, or completing a non-aggression pact between Israel and Syria.

Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar’s motivation to launch the October 7 attacks included a desire to derail Israel-Saudi normalization. Hamas must not be allowed to continue obstructing this brighter regional future. The United States must marshal all its partners in the region to ensure that the group’s disarmament becomes a shared, non-negotiable priority.


Daniel B. Shapiro is a distinguished fellow with the Scowcroft Middle East Security Initiative. He served as US ambassador to Israel from 2011 to 2017, and most recently as deputy assistant secretary of defense for the Middle East. 

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In Southeast Asia, the promise and pitfalls of tariff diplomacy are on full display  https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/in-southeast-asia-the-promise-and-pitfalls-of-tariff-diplomacy-are-on-full-display/ Fri, 12 Dec 2025 19:45:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893437 US President Donald Trump’s high-profile intervention in the Thai-Cambodian border dispute delivered a cease-fire, but its violation exposes the fragility of tariff diplomacy and raises questions about the durability of coercive US diplomacy in the region.

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This article is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s series Inside Trump’s Peace Plans, which assesses the patterns, tools, and strategic choices that characterize Trump‘s peace deals—and evaluates whether they can deliver lasting results. 

Back in July, US President Donald Trump played a key role in brokering a cease-fire between Thailand and Cambodia—a diplomatic effort that earned him a Nobel Peace Prize nomination from Cambodia and a starring role at an elaborate cease-fire signing ceremony during the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) summit in Kuala Lumpur in October. The timing of Trump’s intervention, combined with his use of tariffs as economic leverage, was instrumental in securing the initial cease-fire agreement. Although the truce was fragile and unraveled within a few months, it nonetheless prevented a dangerous escalation and created space for ASEAN-led mediation to briefly take hold.

Trump’s “victory lap” in Kuala Lumpur served both as a boost to his self-proclaimed campaign for the Nobel Peace Prize—earning him a nomination from Phnom Penh—and as a reminder to Southeast Asian nations that the United States remains a key player in shaping regional dynamics and promoting regional stability. Yet his visit also underscored the region’s growing unease over the United States’ retreat from its traditional role as a reliable economic partner and champion of free trade. Trump’s role in the Thailand-Cambodia conflict highlights a new US embrace of economic coercion, transactional bargaining, and exclusionary dealmaking. His abrupt departure from Kuala Lumpur—skipping the East Asia summit—followed by his early exit from South Korea just before the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) Leaders’ Meeting, left China in the spotlight to promote its role as the region’s most dependable partner for free trade, infrastructure investment, and development assistance.

Recent events have more starkly called into question the effectiveness of Trump’s tariff-driven diplomacy. The Thai-Cambodia peace process quickly unraveled in November after Thai soldiers were injured by a landmine, sparking renewed fighting and causing Cambodian casualties along the border. Trump again sought to mediate with phone calls to both leaders, but this time Thailand’s Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul publicly dismissed the threat of economic coercion, saying “I no longer care” about trade and tariff negotiations: “If we can’t sell to this country, we’ll find others. How can we put our lives in the hands of one country?”

On December 8, the situation worsened dramatically when Thailand carried out air strikes on Cambodian military sites it claimed were stockpiling long-range Chinese-made rocketsHundreds of thousands of civilians fled the ensuing violence, and the cease-fire crumbled—underscoring how fragile the truce always was. The latest turn of events came on December 12, when in a Truth Social post, Trump announced that he had again spoken with both Anutin and Manet and secured their agreement to halt all shooting. It remains far from certain, however, whether this new pledge will hold amid ongoing tensions. In all, the crisis lays bare the limits of tariff-based diplomacy in resolving conflicts rooted in nationalism, territorial rivalry, and domestic political pressures.

Bitter conflict over an ancient temple and colonial map

The Thai-Cambodia border dispute centers on Preah Vihear, an ancient Khmer temple perched atop a sheer escarpment along a poorly demarcated stretch of the frontier. The roots of the conflict stretch back centuries to the rivalry between the Khmer Empire and the Kingdom of Siam. In the modern era, the dispute rests on a colonial-era treaty and a French-drawn map whose ambiguities have fueled competing territorial claims.

Cambodia brought the case to the International Court of Justice, which ruled in 1962 that Preah Vihear lay on Cambodian territory. But the court did not decide who owned the surrounding plateau—an area far larger and strategically more significant than the temple. That unresolved question, combined with Thailand’s persistent rejection of the French map that informed the ruling, has left the Preah Vihear region a recurring flashpoint.

The last major clashes erupted from 2008 to 2011 after the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization listed Preah Vihear as a Cambodian world heritage site, a move that inflamed nationalist sentiment on both sides. For Cambodians, the temple is a potent symbol of Khmer identity, and political leaders have often invoked heritage and historical grievances to boost their popularity. Thai leaders who have sought compromise have faced backlash from nationalist groups, and the Thai military has at times exploited the issue to bolster its domestic standing and assert leverage over civilian authority. As a result, the dispute over Preah Vihear remains not only a legal matter but also a deeply emotional and politically combustible issue in both countries.

Escalating border clashes and the search for a cease-fire

The latest crisis erupted in late May 2025, when a Cambodian soldier was killed in a border skirmish, triggering a full-blown diplomatic confrontation and rapid troop buildups on both sides. Fighting escalated dramatically in late July, with heavy artillery exchanges, cross-border incursions, and sporadic air strikes. The human and economic toll mounted quickly: at least thirty-eight people were killed, more than 300,000 displaced, and cross-border trade ground to a halt.

ASEAN was initially caught off guard by the rapidly escalating conflict. As the fighting intensified, Malaysia—serving as ASEAN chair—stepped in to try to broker a cease-fire. Malaysian Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim worked diligently behind the scenes, coordinating closely with the United States and China to open channels for talks. But these efforts were rebuffed by Thailand, which has long resisted third-party involvement in the dispute.

It was at this critical juncture that Trump’s personal intervention helped break the impasse. On July 26, he called Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Manet and Thailand’s acting Prime Minister Phumtham Wechayachai. His message was blunt: sign a cease-fire or face consequences in ongoing trade negotiations. The threat carried weight because US tariffs were set to rise sharply for Cambodia, Thailand, and most other Southeast Asian countries unless they reached trade agreements before the “Liberation Day” tariff deadline on August 1.

Within twenty-four hours, both governments agreed to meet in Kuala Lumpur, and on July 28 they signed an unconditional cease-fire. Trump announced on social media that he had “saved thousands of lives” and declared himself the “President of PEACE.” Manet seized the moment to curry favor with Trump by nominating him for the Nobel Peace Prize, citing his “extraordinary statesmanship” and “visionary and innovative diplomacy.”

Eager to secure Trump’s attendance at the ASEAN summit in October, host country Malaysia invited him to preside over a formal cease-fire signing ceremony. The event was carefully choreographed to spotlight the US president’s role in brokering the deal and the commitments made by Thailand and Cambodia to continue pursuing peace. China was pointedly excluded from the ceremony as a result of US demands for Trump’s participation. Cambodia’s Manet used the moment to remind Trump of his Nobel Peace Prize nomination, Thailand’s Anutin publicly thanked the president for his “personal dedication” to peace, and Malaysia’s Anwar praised Trump for his “tenacity and courage.”

A fragile peace—and its collapse

Despite the July cease-fire, the situation on the ground remained volatile. Violations persisted through August and September. The fragile truce was vulnerable to ultranationalist provocations, inflammatory disinformation circulating on social media, and the absence of any credible monitoring mechanism. Still, the cease-fire had prevented a return to all-out fighting and created space for negotiators to craft a more durable framework to resolve the underlying border dispute.

The agreement signed at the ASEAN summit added several new commitments: withdrawal of heavy weapons from the front line, monitoring by ASEAN observers, and repatriation of Cambodian prisoners of war. The hope was that once these steps were taken, the two countries would tackle the far more difficult process of technical border demarcation, which has remained stalled for years. Yet the most critical ingredient for any lasting settlement is sustained political will at a time when both governments face potentially volatile political situations at home. As Thai analyst Thitinan Pongsudhirak cautioned in October, leaders in both countries “appear intent and incentivized to stoke the flames of nationalism for domestic political gains.”

The rapid unraveling of the peace process in November and December proved these warnings prescient. Just two weeks after the Kuala Lumpur signing, Thailand announced that it would suspend participation in the peace process after four Thai soldiers were wounded, one critically, by a landmine that Thailand claimed was planted by Cambodia after the October peace accord had been signed—an allegation Cambodia denied. The crisis escalated dramatically on December 8, when Thailand launched airstrikes on Cambodian military targets, asserting that Cambodia had mobilized heavy weaponry and repositioned combat units. Fighting spread quickly into civilian areas, causing dozens of casualties and forcing hundreds of thousands to flee, with both sides accusing the other of breaking the truce. Anutin has taken a firm public stance, rejecting ASEAN-led mediation and US tariff pressure in favor of handling the dispute bilaterally with Cambodia. Then came Trump’s December 12 announcement that Anutin and Manet agreed to halt “all shooting” once again.

The confrontation has also offered Anutin a platform to project strength and nationalism at home at a time of economic anxiety and political turbulence in Thailand. This week, Anutin dissolved parliament, setting up a general election in early 2026.

Strategic takeaways for Southeast Asia

Southeast Asia broadly welcomed US involvement in the Thailand-Cambodia crisis and Trump’s visit to the region. After years of sporadic presidential attendance at ASEAN-centered summits under both Trump and former US President Joe Biden, Trump’s presence at the Kuala Lumpur meeting was well received and gave a diplomatic boost to Malaysia and ASEAN.

Yet the downsides were equally clear. The fact that Trump skipped both the East Asia summit and the APEC Leaders’ Meeting reinforced the perception that US engagement remains intermittent and unpredictable. In contrast, Chinese President Xi Jinping seized the opportunity to present China as a stable and reliable partner—championing multilateralism, expanding trade, and financing infrastructure from Laos to Indonesia.

Trump’s use of economic leverage—conditioning tariff relief on cease-fire cooperation—was undeniably effective in bringing Thailand and Cambodia to the negotiating table. But the collapse of the peace process just two weeks after the comprehensive cease-fire was signed also showcases the limits—and potential counterproductive effects—of coercive tariff diplomacy when issues of sovereignty and nationalism are at stake. Tariff pressure may even have backfired, giving the Thai prime minister an opportunity to demonstrate resolve and bolster his nationalist image at a politically opportune moment at home.

More broadly, Trump’s tariff-centric approach sends a highly visible and deeply troubling signal to the region. The United States, once seen as an engine of growth and leader of the liberal trade system, increasingly appears transactional and willing to weaponize trade for political ends. Ironically, that has long been the critique of Chinese engagement in Southeast Asia. Now, with Beijing positioning itself as a defender of free trade and regional multilateralism, the United States risks flipping the script—mirroring the coercive tactics it once condemned.

Meanwhile, China—though still resorting to economic coercion—has deepened its economic engagement, signing free trade agreements, financing ports, railways, and power plants through the Belt and Road Initiative, and expanding development assistance. The United States, by contrast, has dismantled the US Agency for International Development, retreated from ambitious trade deals, and remained a modest player in infrastructure development.

If the United States hopes to re-establish itself as Southeast Asia’s preferred strategic partner, it will need to pair high-level diplomacy and security cooperation with long-term economic engagement—demonstrating that US leadership is durable, reliable, and aligned with Southeast Asia’s long-term development priorities.


Amy Searight is a nonresident senior fellow in the Indo-Pacific Security Initiative at the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and senior adviser at Vriens & Partners. She previously served as US deputy assistant secretary of defense for South and Southeast Asia.

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From the DRC to Sudan, Trump’s disruptive moves could revive stalled negotiations https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/from-the-drc-to-sudan-trumps-disruptive-moves-could-revive-stalled-negotiations/ Fri, 12 Dec 2025 19:45:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=893446 Across Africa, US President Donald Trump’s unorthodox diplomacy is unsettling old patterns—reviving talks between the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Rwanda and injecting new momentum into Sudan mediation. The gains may be fragile, but the openings are real.

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This article is part of the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security’s series Inside Trump’s Peace Plans, which assesses the patterns, tools, and strategic choices that characterize Trump’s peace deals, and evaluates whether they can deliver lasting results. 

The Trump administration’s global push for peace is aimed both at ending wars and at improving the president’s chances of winning a Nobel Peace Prize. Regardless of the motivations, the diplomatic energy the administration is expending to resolve conflicts in Africa is creating movement and shaking up systems in a way that could break stalemates or at least disrupt patterns of violence for short-term gains.  

US President Donald Trump’s proclivity for dealmaking and leveraging influence may not generate long-term solutions, but the administration’s disruption of the conflict between the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Rwanda represents an unorthodox approach to creating negotiation space. Stepping into this space created by Trump’s style could offer an opportunity to forge new short-term paths to peace.

Unconventional moves, unforeseen results? 

Building on the diligent efforts of the Joe Biden administration, the Trump team gave significant political weight to the DRC-Rwanda negotiations early in the term by tapping Massad Boulos, the US senior advisor for Africa—and father-in-law of the president’s daughter Tiffany Trump—to lead the talks. This resulted in a “declaration of principles” in April, followed by the “Washington Accord” in June, both signed by the countries’ foreign ministers. Then, on December 4, the presidents of the DRC and Rwanda signed the “Joint Declaration” in Washington, with Trump and leaders from Qatar, Kenya, Angola, Togo, Burundi, Uganda, and Nigeria witnessing.  

This peace agreement was violated just four days later, and the Rwandan-backed M23 militia continues to gain ground in eastern DRC. Burundi’s involvement in the conflict is also increasingly concerning. However, the US administration’s diplomatic investment has created international momentum for peace, providing the parties and regional actors more room to maneuver in their respective domestic politics. For the DRC, the political push from the White House has generated a buzz of activity in the critical-minerals sector, as exemplified by myriad recent forums in Washington policy circles and the interest of several companies in capitalizing on the “peace.” Similarly, Rwanda, which has long faced criticism for greenwashing and sportswashing its reputation for human rights abuses and autocracy, has had the opportunity to burnish its image as a promoter of peace on the global stage by signing this series of high-profile agreements. In that sense, both countries are already benefiting from Trump’s political signaling, though the stickiest details of a long-term solution remain unaddressed.   

In Sudan, US foreign policy faces its toughest test 

The same may be true in Sudan, where Trump recently announced that he intends to focus on resolving the crisis after meeting with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. While there might be a short-term gain, the US approach is unlikely to deliver a sustainable political path toward an enduring peace. Still, Boulos’s engagement on Sudan could inject some much-needed energy into a stalled mediation process led by the United States, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE). A lasting resolution to the conflict in Sudan, where the world’s largest humanitarian disaster is unfolding, would be a real feather in Trump’s cap.  

Most Sudan watchers have argued that any solution must start with the United States exerting political pressure on the UAE to terminate its support for the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a Darfur-based paramilitary group. In January, the outgoing Biden administration determined that the RSF has committed genocide, and continued Emirati support has allowed the group to perpetrate more atrocities, such as those widely reported during its late October siege of the Sudanese city of El Fasher. However, the UAE is an important US ally and a key strategic partner in other global conflicts—from the war in Gaza to countering the Houthi threat in Yemen. Using US leverage to squeeze Abu Dhabi on Sudan has therefore proven politically impractical.  

If Trump were to pull it off, an Emirati pivot on Sudan would indeed result in a power shift on the battlefield. Still, spearheading an effort for lasting peace would require another seismic political shift. The US administration would also need to elevate legitimate Sudanese political actors who could lead this fractious and war-ravaged country—and that is no easy feat. After all, neither of the two main belligerents, the Sudanese Armed Forces or the RSF, maintains any political legitimacy, as Michelle Gavin of the Council on Foreign Relations argues. If Trump or Boulos could pick up those two giant rocks—Emirati support for the RSF and legitimate Sudanese political leadership—and move them even inches forward, that would represent real progress that evaded the Biden administration. 

Small wins can produce big diplomatic yields 

As Trump continues his pursuit of a Nobel Peace Prize, there are myriad other conflicts across the African continent that may receive a burst of diplomatic attention as his administration seeks to unlock sustainable paths to peace. The Ethiopia-Egypt-Sudan dispute around Nile River water access and the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) may be one of those cases. Although it should be acknowledged that Trump has previously overstated his claim of resolving the conflict, he could still theoretically pull off an agreement, as argued by Allison Lombardo and Peter Quaranto. While Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has little motivation to strike a deal on the GERD, Egypt might be more amenable to negotiations.  

During his July 2025 travel to North Africa, Boulos continued discussions with Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi on both the GERD and on emerging space to possibly broker a deal on Libya. There may yet be developments in this arena as the US administration seeks to create opportunities for energy-sector deals for US companies.   

The administration is also pursuing solutions to several other security challenges in Africa, including the metastasizing terrorist threats in Mali and across West Africa. Here, the United States has been increasingly sidelined, with regimes from Burkina Faso to Niger pivoting to Moscow. However, there is an opportunity to redirect Sahelian states’ attention away from Russian patrons if the United States steps up with its own counterterrorism support. 

In northern Somalia, a new collaboration between Somaliland and Puntland may provide a vehicle for the United States to advance locally driven counterterrorism solutions aimed at containing or degrading threats posed by the Somali affiliate of the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham, al-Shabaab, and even the Houthis operating in the Red Sea region. Likely with a lighter touch than was needed to advance DRC-Rwanda negotiations, the Trump administration could make near-term counterterrorism gains that may open space for partner governments—including Western allies, Turkey, the UAE, and Qatar—to share burdens and claim political and diplomatic wins. 

It is easy to criticize the administration’s nontraditional approach to peace promotion, particularly when paired with sizable tariffs, visa bans, and misleading narratives about marginalized groups in South Africa and Nigeria. However, the reality is that the political disruption that Trump’s style can generate, combined with his unpredictable decision-making and pursuit of the Nobel Peace Prize, has shifted political thinking about what is possible in the DRC and Rwanda. With sustained and credible engagement, similar diplomatic openings could emerge in Sudan, Libya, and other terrorism hot spots in Africa. In many of these cases, small victories may prove more valuable than prolonged stalemates. 


Maureen Farrell is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security and vice president for global partnerships at Valar, a Nairobi-based strategic advisory and risk firm. She previously served as the deputy assistant secretary of defense for African affairs and director for African affairs at the US National Security Council. 

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The Russian economy in 2025: Between stagnation and militarization  https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/russia-tomorrow/the-russian-economy-in-2025-between-stagnation-and-militarization/ Fri, 12 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=891833 The latest report in the Atlantic Council's Russia Tomorrow series examines the Russian wartime economy.

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Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 challenged much of the common Western understanding of Russia. How can the world better understand Russia? What are the steps forward for Western policy? The Eurasia Center’s “Russia Tomorrow” series seeks to reevaluate conceptions of Russia today and better prepare for its future tomorrow.

Table of contents

In the three and a half years since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, its economy has continued to grow, supported by increased militarization. This resilience is a far cry from Western governments’ prognosis in the early days of the war that sanctions would crash the Russian economy. Sky-high energy prices and hesitation on the part of Western leaders to push for stronger enforcement of sanctions kept the Russian economy afloat in 2022. Meanwhile, deepening economic integration with China has helped supplant the void left by the loss of the European Union (EU) as a market. Overall growth, however, is slowing markedly in 2025 as Russia is increasingly feeling the pressure of “guns versus butter,” the inherent tension between military and social spending. 

Fortunately for Ukraine and its Western partners, topline gross domestic product (GDP) figures tell only part of the story. The Russian economy has been overheating—demand is outpacing supply and economic activity is growing at an unsustainable rate—since late 2023. Stubbornly high inflation has forced the Central Bank of Russia (CBR) to raise interest rates to a peak of 21 percent.1 In part, higher inflation (and growth) figures have been driven by Moscow’s wartime spending spree, often described as military Keynesianism. This has been exacerbated by an exceptionally tight labor market by Russia’s standards. The unemployment rate sits at just above 2 percent, less than half of its pre-pandemic levels—which, in addition to boosting inflation even higher, betrays the economy’s limited room left to grow. Demand has been pushed up by government spending beyond the point at which supply can keep up, whether through investment, labor, or productivity gains.

The sanctions landscape has, rather unsurprisingly, become more fractured since President Donald Trump’s return to the White House in 2025. While Ukraine’s partners in Brussels and London have applied additional economic pressure on Moscow, Washington had entirely refrained from doing so until October, when Trump announced sanctions on Russia’s two largest oil producers, Rosneft and Lukoil. On one side of the Atlantic, sanctions—which require constant monitoring and updating to remain relevant—have seemingly been reduced from a tool of economic statecraft designed to inflict costs for and deter bad behavior to a bargaining chip. On the other, the European Union and United Kingdom have continued to expand their sanctions regimes, including by lowering the price cap they impose on Russian oil, but are unable to replicate the reach that the United States Treasury Department has thanks to the dominance of the US dollar and the US ability to enforce secondary sanctions.

The Russian economy is, therefore, in a precarious but manageable position. Its growth has slowed, its oil and gas revenues have slid, and the latest US sanctions on Rosneft and Lukoil directly challenge the prevailing assumption that geopolitical risks and sanctions threats had subsided. Nevertheless, the economy might yet be saved by fickle White House policy. Unless the new sanctions escalation is genuinely sustained, or global oil markets see a further downturn, the current slow downward trends are likely to hold as Russia appears to have hit supply-side constraints in the labor market and investment. This makes a better understanding of where the Russian economy currently stands all the more important. The following sections explore three key wartime developments: the growing role of China, the prioritization of the defense sector, and the positive effects of the war on poorer regions.

Pivot to the East: How China has come to Russia’s rescue

When Russian President Vladimir Putin launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, he gambled his country’s future on a quick victory. When that goal proved elusive, he doubled down. Two developments helped make this economically feasible. The first was the spike in energy prices, particularly for natural gas, which was precipitated by the uncertainty that Putin had wrought upon global markets. The second was Russia’s burgeoning trade relationship with China and its role in helping Russia circumvent sanctions.

Economically and politically, Russia’s relationship with China is simultaneously deeply asymmetrical and mutually beneficial. While Moscow has not become Beijing’s vassal—at least not to the extent that it would attack NATO purely to distract the Alliance from a war for Taiwan—Russia is certainly the junior partner in the “no limits” partnership. China has served as a lifeline for Russia, while Russia has supplied China with cheap energy and raw materials.

On one hand, China has easily overtaken the EU to become Russia’s largest trading partner. On the other hand, Russia accounts for just 3 percent of China’s exports and 5 percent of China’s imports as of 2024.2 Russia’s economic importance to China, to be sure, is not fully reflected in these figures; it became China’s top supplier of crude oil in 2023. But even in the case of oil, China buys from an intentionally diversified set of suppliers, in which Russia accounts for less than one-fifth of imports. With an economy nine times the size of Russia’s, China has the same leverage in market power over Russia as the EU, without the structural dependencies on Russian energy.3 Many EU members (including Germany, the bloc’s largest economy) grew structurally dependent on cheap Russian oil and gas for their economic growth in the twenty-first century.4 The Nord Stream 1 and 2 natural gas pipelines from Russia to Germany via the Baltic Sea, which together cost €18 billion to build, best symbolized the relationship.

Even Russia’s energy exports to China are comparatively far more important to Russia. Oil and gas revenues account for nearly one-third of Russia’s budget inflows. Until 2023, Europe was the most lucrative export market for Russian energy and, thus, for Russian state coffers. Nonetheless, by invading Ukraine, Russia slayed its irreplaceable golden goose, leaving it reliant on new partners. And China, well aware of Russia’s lack of alternatives, purchases both oil and gas at a steep discount.

Russia’s trade to and from China could hardly be more different. It sells oil, gas, coal, and raw materials to China, while it buys machinery, vehicles, and electronics (see below).5 In other words, Russia exports what it can extract from the ground and imports what it lacks the technology and industrial capacity to build itself—highlighting the deep asymmetry in the relationship. This is a complete and embarrassing reversal in the relationship compared to the 2000s, when Russia exported higher value-added goods to China. 

Automobiles have become a bellwether of China’s presence in the Russian consumer market and a rare case of the Russian market’s importance to Chinese industry. Before the full-scale invasion in 2022, Russia imported cars from a range of countries—including Japan, South Korea, Germany, China, and the United States—and a number of countries established production facilities in Russia, creating productivity spillovers. The West’s sanctions regime upended the market so thoroughly that Russia, although wary of provoking its more powerful neighbor, even increased duties on car imports in an attempt to slow the Chinese takeover.6 Chinese brands’ market share surged from below 10 percent in 2021 to above 60 percent in 2023, and they allegedly accounted for the vast majority (about 90 percent) of revenues in 2024. 

Russia had become the largest export destination for Chinese cars, which filled the void left by Western brands exiting the country—and though Russia’s protectionist measures might have chipped away at this, the Chinese automotive industry is among the largest beneficiaries of the expanded Sino-Russian trade relationship. The industry produces far more than the Chinese consumer market can absorb, so markets like Russia—which is both large and absent of Western competition—are highly beneficial. In contrast, China’s smartphone industry, which has taken over the Russian market in a rather visible manner (86 percent of sales in 2024), is hardly dependent on Russia.

China’s manufacturing industries—which are purposefully designed for overcapacity—need international markets, and Russia has become an increasingly important destination for them to sell their products. But automotive exports are the exception that proves the rule; even mutually beneficial exchanges are far more important to Russia than to China. This conclusion is not as trivial as it might sound—the European Union, with a combined GDP that surpasses China’s, was so reliant on Russian energy that the bloc is still working on phasing it out. In other words, structural dependencies on Russia were ingrained in European economies, making it more painful to cut off the trading relationship than key economic figures would have suggested; Russia does not have this leverage with China.

But from an economic point of view, China is not a better trading partner for Russia than the European Union was. It buys oil and gas at lower prices, it invests far less in Russia, and its products are often technologically inferior. Nor is China’s relationship with Russia equivalent to the West’s relationship with Ukraine; whereas Ukraine has received billions of dollars in grants and in-kind contributions from the West, Russia pays in full for its imports from China. But with no alternatives to speak of, China has served as an economic lifeline for the Russian economy.

China has also been central to Russia’s efforts to evade Western sanctions. Following the exodus of Western countries and the imposition of a strict export control regime in 2022, Russian importers turned to increasingly complex sanctions-evasion supply chains to continue buying prohibited products and components. This was particularly urgent for the military-industrial complex, as Russia sourced more Common High Priority Items List (CHPL) items—a set of fifty export-controlled products that the sanctioning coalition jointly determined to be key to Russia’s military industry—from the EU than from anywhere else. A look at Russia’s 2023 imports of these goods reveals China’s new centrality: In value terms, 90 percent of CHPL imports were facilitated by a Chinese firm in some way. Over time, China’s role in providing sensitive goods to Russia has also tilted from facilitator to manufacturer—by 2023, 49 percent of all CHPL imports were made by Chinese companies in China. Goods as complex as computer numerical control (CNC) machines and as simple as ball bearings are now sourced from China instead of the West, making export controls less effective or, at the very least, more difficult to enforce.7

Chinese machinery and components are predominantly supplied to the military-industrial complex, while domestically produced alternatives usually go to civilian firms. Moreover, shipments of domestically produced machinery and components have declined during the full-scale war, indicating that Chinese imports have supplanted Russian competition. In other words, despite all of the resources that have gone into import substitution programs—and the restrictions that sanctions have imposed—Russia’s machinery and components supply chains are more import dependent now than they were in 2021. With the Russian economy on a war footing, manufacturers have merely swapped out their European dependencies for Chinese ones.

Russia’s turn from Europe to China raises the question: Did the sanctions regime backfire? After all, Russia has continued its war against Ukraine and is now closer to China than it was at any other time in the post-Soviet period. 

Economically, sanctions have neither backfired nor achieved maximalist goals. The sanctions regime has ensured that every drone, artillery shell, and missile aimed at Ukraine is more expensive or more difficult to produce. Supply chains have needed to be reoriented, introducing friction costs and quality concerns—the lengths to which Russian firms have gone to acquire export-controlled technologies and machinery effectively reveal the inferiority of alternatives. Disappointment with the fact that sanctions have not brought about the collapse of the Russian economy has more to do with overzealous expectations combined with lax enforcement than it does with the failure of sanctions themselves.

However, the tightening Sino-Russian relationship carries weightier consequences for the practice of economic statecraft. Financial sanctions against Russia—including the disconnection of some major banks from the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication (SWIFT)—have driven the country out of the dollar-dominated global financial system and toward its (much smaller) Chinese alternative. China and Russia now settle the vast majority of their trade in renminbi, which could theoretically pave the way for a Chinese-led, anti-Western global financial system. Combined with the Trump administration’s trade policies, risks of de-dollarization have grown, particularly in Asia. This remains hypothetical, however, and it is unclear whether Beijing is willing to bear the costs associated8 with taking up such a role. In reality, the Russian economy’s resilience is more of a wake-up call than a cautionary tale for Western governments. A sanctions regime that allows energy export revenues to continue to flow and leaves an economy the size of China’s as a safe haven is destined to disappoint.

Guns over butter

In the push and pull between civilian and military priorities, never has post-Soviet Russia so clearly veered toward the latter. In part, this is reflected in Moscow’s larger ambitions to revive its status as a regional hegemon in Eurasia, and in all the costs it is already bearing in pursuit of this goal—it sacrificed its most lucrative oil and gas customers in the name of dominating Ukraine. But Moscow’s priorities are more straightforwardly revealed by its wartime federal budgets.

The Russian federal budget is both convoluted and secretive, with almost one-third of all allocated funds classified, including more than 80 percent of the defense budget. Even classified expenditures are attributed to broad budget chapters (e.g., national defense), and some categories are easier to ascertain than others—the Ministry of Defense’s classified social support, for example, is likely made up of payments to families of soldiers killed or wounded in the war. Spending on the war has been immense (pegged at or above 8 percent of GDP) but not entirely straightforward to measure. Not all defense expenditures go to the war, while some large civil expenditures, such as investments in occupied territories, are directly related to it. Nevertheless, a few observations can be made about how the budget reflects today’s Russian economy. 

First, direct military spending is likely to plateau, if not decrease, in real terms this year. As spending grew well above inflation since the full-scale invasion, further increasing spending would need to come at the cost of noticeable cuts to social spending, as liquid reserves in the country’s National Welfare Fund (NWF) have been depleted substantially (down 59 percent), and military spending accounted for almost half of budget revenues in the first half of 2025.9 As is the case with much of the Russian economy, 2025 has shown that growth cannot continue forever.

Second, while budget deficits are well above expectations, Russia has not had difficulties financing its deficits. Russia’s federal budget nearly exceeded the planned target for 2025 in just the first six months of the year. The shortfall, which was driven by a drop in oil and gas revenues and a 20-percent rise in expenditures, is far bigger than previous wartime deficits. Nonetheless, Moscow has managed to finance the deficit thanks to strong demand for bonds from Russian banks. This is particularly important to maintain, as domestic banks are effectively the only remaining buyers of the government’s bonds.10

Third, much depends on the price of oil. A bit less than one-third of the federal budget is funded by oil and gas income, and the Ministry of Finance based its budget projections on a forecasted $69.7 per barrel average export price in 2025. The extent of the budget shortfall that falling oil revenues create will depend on two factors: global oil prices, which have been weighed down by sluggish global growth, and how steep a discount on Russian oil prices the Group of Seven’s (G7) oil price cap sanctions can create. With its eighteenth sanctions package in July 2025, the European Union both lowered the price cap for crude oil (from $60 per barrel to $47.6 per barrel) and introduced an automatic mechanism to adjust the cap to market conditions. While this is a welcome change, its effect will still depend on enforcement, which has been subverted by Russia’s shadow fleet of old and uninsured oil tankers.

Besides defense expenditures as a share of GDP, one of Russia’s most-watched financial statistics has been the bonuses that the government pays those who sign up to join the “special military operation.” To entice men to join the war effort despite the risks, regional and local governments have offered sign-on bonuses that far exceed annual salaries. By early 2025, more than 60 percent of Russia’s regions offered bonuses that exceeded 1 million rubles (about $12,000). In Sverdlovsk Oblast in the Urals region, prospective soldiers are offered about 3 million rubles—2.5 million rubles from the regional government, 400,000 from the federal budget, and more from individual municipalities—which is nearly three times the median annual wage. In Mari El, a poor ethnic republic 400 miles east of Moscow, a stunning 10 percent of the region’s total budget is spent on sign-on bonuses.

In Russia’s poorer regions, the combination of sign-on bonuses and killed in action (KIA) payouts has created a system of “deathonomics” in which dying on the battlefield in Ukraine can be more profitable than living to retirement age. The system is particularly appealing to men who are not economically productive—whether due to a lack of training and education or a poor local economy—and effectively acts as local stimulus. From a macroeconomic perspective, these payouts must be viewed in the context of a tight labor market and an overheated economy, in which employers in the civilian sector compete for workers with the army, a military-industrial complex that receives favorable treatment from the government, and each other. Moreover, they are indicative of a larger trend: Russia’s resources are being directed away from the civilian economy and toward the war. Every working-aged man who joins the army is one fewer factory worker or local business employee, and every government ruble spent on incentivizing his choice is one fewer ruble for social spending.

In Russia’s poorer regions, the combination of sign-on bonuses and killed in action (KIA) payouts has created a system of “deathonomics” in which dying on the battlefield in Ukraine can be more profitable than living to retirement age. The system is particularly appealing to men who are not economically productive—whether due to a lack of training and education or a poor local economy—and effectively acts as local stimulus. From a macroeconomic perspective, these payouts must be viewed in the context of a tight labor market and an overheated economy, in which employers in the civilian sector compete for workers with the army, a military-industrial complex that receives favorable treatment from the government, and each other. Moreover, they are indicative of a larger trend: Russia’s resources are being directed away from the civilian economy and toward the war. Every working-aged man who joins the army is one fewer factory worker or local business employee, and every government ruble spent on incentivizing his choice is one fewer ruble for social spending.

It is no coincidence, then, that war-related industries have substantially outperformed the rest of the economy. While war-related industries have boomed—their combined output has increased by around 50 percent—the rest of the economy has been largely stagnant. Much of Russia’s investment, which is already low, is directed to supporting the war. Because Russia has long struggled to translate its military-industrial complex spending to durable civilian-sector growth, this leaves few opportunities for medium- to long-term spillovers. And as Russian workers move to the military-industrial complex or leave for the front, they are not being replaced by migrant labor, which is at its lowest level in a decade.

There are some areas that allow for direct, “apples to apples” comparisons between the fates of the civilian and military sectors. Though both sides are impacted by sanctions, restrictions on military-industrial complex entities are more stringent. Nonetheless, it is the military-industrial complex that comes out ahead.

Russia’s aviation industry, historically reliant on Western planes and technology, has been hit hard by sanctions. Even before the full-scale invasion, Russia’s commercial aviation industry was so reliant on Western supply chains that it resorted to smuggling parts and components from the United States to get around sanctions, as nominally Russian-made airplanes still rely on foreign components. Sanctions forced Russian airlines to quickly seize jets that had been leased from the West and cannibalize older aircraft for spare parts. But measures have clearly been insufficient, as civil aviation incidents hit a record high in 2024 and plans to build more than one thousand commercial aircraft by 2030 are merely a fantasy. In talks with the Trump administration, Russia specifically brought up the aviation industry as a pain point and proposed a scheme to purchase Boeing planes with frozen state assets. 

Military aviation—which is a top-heavy sector led by companies Yakovlev, United Aircraft Corporation, and United Engine Corporation—has not suffered the same fate. Military aviation manufacturers have rapidly expanded their production capacity since the full-scale invasion, with Chinese imports playing an ever-increasing role in their supply chains. While the commercial aviation fleet steadily degrades, military aviation is continuing to produce both fighter jets and helicopters for the war effort. The diverging performance of the civil and military aviation industries, despite the substantial overlap in companies active in them, is further evidence of how Russia has prioritized military production at the expense of the civilian economy.

An indefinite expansion of the military-industrial complex, however, is not feasible. Moscow does not appear willing to make the sacrifices necessary to truly militarize society—for example, to direct the resources to defense that the Soviet Union did during the Cold War—which would be unavoidable during a broader economic slowdown. The more it spends on military-industrial manufacturing and infrastructure, the less the civilian economy can compete for labor and financing (i.e., the military-industrial complex is crowding out the rest of the private sector). Russia has now pushed the limits of how much the civilian economy can be neglected before it is forced into stagnation.

In the first two years of the full-scale war, the Kremlin was not forced to face the trade-offs it is facing today. Military-led economic expansion was not at odds with broader economic growth for a number of reasons that no longer hold true. 

First, high inflation has forced the CBR to raise interest rates substantially as it attempts to pump the brakes on the overheated economy. With a key policy rate of 16.5 percent (down from a high of 21 percent), fewer businesses can afford debt-fueled growth. Furthermore, a significant share of economic actors receive subsidized interest rate loans; one-sixth of all new loans issued in 2023 were subsidized at below-market rates. Russia’s subsidized mortgage program made up a majority of these funds and was more distortionary than preferential loans to the corporate sector, but it ended in July 2024. The remaining portfolio of subsidized loans, held primarily by large banks, ranges from innocuous recipients—the agricultural sector, small and medium-size enterprises, and strategic industries—to defense contractors and the military-industrial complex writ large, which the Kremlin funds with “hidden war debt.”

The bottom line is that these preferential loan programs force the CBR to hike rates more than it would need to otherwise, hurting the broader economy’s growth prospects in the process. This has led to open infighting among regime elites, with defense executives like Rostec’s Chief Executive Officer Sergey Chemezov repeatedly lashing out at CBR Governor Elvira Nabiullina for her stewardship of the Russian economy.11 Nabiullina and the CBR have been critical of these programs, noting that the subsidized loans are paid for by all the individuals and corporations that must pay market rate. Thus far, the Kremlin seems to have sided with the bank. But the longer rates remain high, the more difficult the balancing act becomes.

Second, the external environment has deteriorated significantly. In Russia’s case, this is first and foremost a question of oil and gas exports. Soaring energy prices—and the delayed application of key measures such as the G7’s oil price cap—supported the Russian economy, the ruble, and the government budget in 2022. Natural gas prices were particularly crucial in 2022 because Russian oil has been sold with a risk premium (i.e., with a discount) ever since the full-scale invasion. Russia’s gas revenues more than doubled between 2021 and 2022—from $64 billion to $130 billion—but fell precipitously below pre-war levels thereafter. Now, three and a half years into what was envisioned as a three-day war, energy revenues have structurally changed (see the analysis above). Depressed oil prices amid a global oil glut, China’s unwillingness to import more Russian natural gas via stalled projects like the Power of Siberia 2 pipeline, the EU’s measures targeting India’s refining of Russian crude oil, and Washington’s sanctions against Rosneft and Lukoil all represent real challenges for Russia’s economic prospects.12 Regular Ukrainian strikes on hydrocarbon processing facilities have also hit Russia’s bottom line and show no sign of letting up. None of these challenges are insurmountable or even permanent, but they compound on each other in the absence of other key buffers—most notably, liquid reserves and a large and stable current account balance.

Third, Russia has burned through the reserves that it built prior to its full-scale invasion. Russia’s most important buffer has been the NWF, its sovereign wealth fund. Moscow has heavily relied on the NWF for budget financing—withdrawing more than 7.5 trillion rubles ($93 billion) for fiscal financing, while more than $300 billion of CBR reserves were immobilized in sanctions coalition countries. The NWF’s liquid funds, holdings of foreign currency and gold, have dropped by nearly 60 percent and now consist of just renminbi and gold, as Russia sold all hard currency assets in 2022. Once again, this is not an existential threat to the Russian economy, as the government’s ability to fund its deficit with debt issuance has been consistent. However, the depleted NWF is a lost buffer that creates new trade-offs for the Kremlin. If Moscow continues its war-related spending spree, it must fund its deficit by selling even more debt to domestic banks; if it does not continue its fiscal expansion, it no longer has the NWF to cushion the fall for the general population.

The reality is that the Kremlin spent the first two years of the full-scale war kicking the can down the road, avoiding the trade-offs inherent to its policies. Fiscal expansion, a supportive external environment, and large buffers had the economy growing but running on fumes. At least in the economic sphere, the war was all carrots and no sticks. In 2024–2025, when the situation deteriorated significantly on all three fronts, the Russian economy did not collapse, to be sure, but the Kremlin began to face the trade-offs that it had long put off. Interest rates climbed, real wages fell, and subsidized mortgage programs were scrapped. Fears of looming stagflation—the combination of high inflation, low growth, and high unemployment—have been (perhaps prematurely) in the ether for quite some time. 

What does this mean for the most fundamental trade-off of all: guns versus butter? It is difficult to imagine a scenario in which the Russian government can sustain its current defense expenditures without social spending cuts that are pervasive and visible to the general population. Moreover, the broader economy can no longer support growth (in output and real wages) in both the military-industrial complex and the civilian sector simultaneously. This does not spell disaster, but it will likely chip away at the gains that the country’s poorer regions and citizens have seen during the war.

Regions

Parts of the civilian sector have benefited immensely from the wartime spending bonanza, and it has helped reshape the economy in surprising ways. In some cases, the war has served as an equalizer, injecting cash into poorer regions through army recruitment and casualty payments. Self-reported well-being and financial security measures have generally increased. In other ways, wartime spending has reinforced existing structural inequalities that favor privileged groups and areas, such as ethnic Russians, large cities, and regions with a strong military-industrial base.

The benefits that poorer regions have enjoyed during the full-scale war come at a cost, and they are unlikely to be permanent. Household incomes rise in exchange for killed and wounded men and high inflation; investment into the military-industrial complex crowds out more efficient investment into the civilian economy. Moreover, casualty payouts and defense spending are hardly sustainable drivers of economic growth. Regardless of their permanence, it is worth understanding the regional dynamics associated with Russia’s war.

Both before and during the war, Russia’s economy has been centered around a few economic centers: Moscow, St. Petersburg, Ekaterinburg, and regions with oil and gas extraction industries such as the Nenets, Yamalo-Nenets, and Khanty-Mansi autonomous okrugs.

But the war has brought unprecedented investment and income to Russia’s poorer regions. Two indicators—fixed investment and retail turnover—exemplify the geographic nature of wartime growth. Fixed investment, which includes assets that range from machinery to factories, has shown explosive growth in Russia’s poorer and far-flung regions. The Republic of Tyva, a small ethnic republic on the Mongolian border, has seen 190-percent growth in fixed investment and 74-percent growth in retail turnover—some of the highest in the nation. However, income is not evenly distributed within the region, with military-related incomes not trickling down to the rest of the population. In other words, the fiscal stimulus (from recruitment and KIA payouts) and demand in the military-industrial complex have not dispersed across the entire economy.

Tyva also tops the charts in a less desirable metric; it has the highest number of confirmed war deaths per capita of any region in the country. While Tyva’s sign-up bonuses are some of the lowest in the country—the region merely matches the federal government’s 400,000-ruble payout—it is worth remembering that these bonuses are generally dwarfed by the payments to soldiers’ families when they are killed in action. Consequently, the growth of household bank deposits in Tyva has massively outpaced national averages.

Households are generally faring better in regions that have contributed more soldiers to the war. The growth in household bank deposits is so visible, in fact, that it has even been used as a proxy to measure regions’ mobilization results. Notably, trends in household incomes and household expenditures somewhat diverge. While regions like Tyva show only relatively middling growth in household income despite strong employment growth, their household expenditures have risen just like their bank deposits. In other words, deposits and expenditures have risen precipitously—but not necessarily from standard income sources.

Of course, these poorer regions have had help. In late 2024, the federal government implemented a program to allow lower-income regional governments to write off up to two-thirds of their debt, provided that they spend the freed-up funds on social and communal expenditures or, in some cases, national projects. This effectively means that some regions’ exorbitant spending on the war in Ukraine, including sign-up bonuses and benefits for families of soldiers wounded or killed in action, has been subsidized by Moscow. The program exemplifies the difficulty of assessing how much the Russian government has spent on the war; the Kremlin uses arcane budget maneuvers to funnel money to the war through programs that are ostensibly designed for economic development in poor regions.

Another key development during the war is the renewed convergence between regions’ average wages.13 Between 2000 and 2014, as commodity prices and the market economy helped Russia grow substantially, the differences in wages across regions declined. This trend stagnated between 2014 and 2021 but then reemerged with the full-scale war. More important than the convergence itself, however, is what has driven it.

The dispersion of wages across Russia’s regions is visible in two distinctions—between the rich and middle-income regions, and between the middle-income and poor regions. Between 2000 and 2014, the convergence of average wages was primarily driven by the poorest regions catching up to middle-income regions. Since the full-scale invasion in 2022, the driver of convergence has been on the other end of the wealth distribution, with middle-income regions catching up to rich ones. Geographically, this means that the strongest wage growth does not extend much further east than the Urals.

Trends in investment betray a more complex and less optimistic picture. At face value, fixed investment has increased dramatically in some poorer parts of the country, including in the archetypal region of the Republic of Tyva. But while growth figures are useful metrics, they can obscure differences in scale. In reality, Russia’s poorer regions entered the war so far behind on fixed investment that these large increases (above 100 percent since 2021, in many cases) are dwarfed in scale by those in major metropolitan areas and export-driven (i.e., resource-rich) areas. In fact, dispersion of fixed investment per capita between regions has increased considerably since the full-scale invasion. This suggests that the wage gains in poorer regions relative to the rest of the country are unlikely to become a permanent feature of the economy.

Much of this post-2022 divergence can be attributed to regions with a heavy military-industrial presence; most of these regions fall into the Central, Ural, and Volga federal districts. Regional manufacturing growth is, of course, strongest there, and weakest where production relied on Western export markets. 

Sverdlovsk oblast, which hosts key heavy industry manufacturing hubs, saw fixed investment rise by more than 100 percent since 2021. Russia’s premier tank-producing facility, Uralvagonzavod, is based in Sverdlovsk oblast’s Nizhny Tagil. The Nizhny Tagil industrial cluster has doubled down on military-industrial production, including by ramping up hiring (and wages) for skilled and unskilled workers. It faces macroeconomic headwinds, including a shrinking workforce, but has been buoyed by defense procurement orders (gosoboronzakaz) and debt-fueled investment. Thanks to the expansion of production and the tight labor market, manufacturing wages in Sverdlovsk oblast increased by 78 percent between February 2022 and February 2025 (compared to 70-percent growth in all sectors). 

While the convergence of economic prospects across Russia’s regions might not be permanent, the inefficient allocation of resources—particularly to the military-industrial complex at the expense of the civilian sector—is likely here to stay for the foreseeable future. After the sign-up and war casualty payments stop flowing to the country’s poorest regions, the investments in the war machine will remain, fed by Moscow’s aggressive posture toward NATO.

Conclusions and recommendations

Unfortunately for those (the present authors included) who wish for Russia’s aggression to end as soon as possible, the bill is not yet coming due for the Kremlin’s war economy. Rather, we have argued in favor of a different lens through which to view the Russian economy—one of increasing trade-offs—as costs have mounted but remain manageable.

Slowing growth, depressed oil prices, harsher sanctions, and high inflation are the key macroeconomic challenges that the Kremlin and CBR face in late 2025. However, they are not the only trends worth considering. We have examined three structural shifts that Russia’s full-scale war against Ukraine has wrought upon the country’s economy: an external sector pivot from West to East, a clear prioritization of guns over butter, and a convergence of regional economic trends. Among these, regional convergence is the least likely to persist beyond the war.

Prescriptions for hindering the Russian economy vary depending on the specific goals and risk tolerances of sanctioning states. The United States and EU, for example, have long held the contradictory goal of reducing Russia’s oil and gas revenues without pushing up global market prices—hence the price cap—so as to avoid domestic and international backlash. With the current oil market glut, however, it is feasible to impose sanctions on Russian oil majors without spiking global prices. The true test of this theory will come only in time, as we wait to see what waivers the Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) issues to potential customers of Rosneft and Lukoil (particularly India and China) and whether these sanctions remain in place for the foreseeable future.

The Trump administration’s punitive measures against China and India for their support of Russia, be they secondary sanctions or secondary tariffs, have thus far largely been half-hearted and inconsistently applied. This leaves policymakers, particularly in Europe, in a tricky situation. When Washington strikes a more conciliatory tone toward Moscow, sanctions enforcement is tougher. EU and United Kingdom efforts to sanction shadow fleet tankers have continued without the United States, and a growing willingness to interdict law-breaking vessels also put downward pressure on Russia’s oil export revenues, but they are less effective without the Treasury Department’s help. And in the only case in which Washington has imposed new restrictions—on Rosneft and Lukoil—it did so without coordination.

Economically, the two fundamental goals of the post-2022 sanctions regime have been to make it harder for Russia to produce materiel for its war and make it harder for Russia to pay for its war. Both come with their own costs and challenges—the former is hard to enforce, while the latter threatens to boomerang costs back to the sender—that reduce the coalition’s resolve.14 Nonetheless, we see no reason to deviate from these two guiding principles. 

Reducing Russia’s industrial production for its war can and should be accomplished in various ways. 

First, the sanctions coalition’s existing export controls regime must be better enforced and expanded. This would require more resources for investigations and a willingness to target third-country intermediaries that help Russian firms access export-controlled goods.15 As we have detailed, this will inevitably focus on China. 

Second, Chinese and North Korean supply chains to the Russian military-industrial complex must be disrupted. Chinese manufacturers sell dual-use goods and machinery to a wide range of firms in the military-industrial complex, while North Korea has been supplying Russia with more than half of its artillery shells. Targeting Chinese supply chains could entail sanctioning the logistics providers that facilitate the transactions on the Russian side or imposing secondary sanctions on the manufacturers and banks that do so on the Chinese side. Targeting North Korean supply chains, while more difficult due to the country’s international isolation, could entail sanctioning Russian or Chinese banks that facilitate trade with North Korea. 

Third, many entities in the Russian military-industrial complex remain unsanctioned, particularly those that maintain civilian pretenses. Rosatom and Roscosmos, two state-owned enterprises that have heavy ties to the military-industrial complex, are prime examples.

Reducing Russia’s ability to finance its war effort is, for all intents and purposes, a question of reducing its energy export revenues. Despite the fact that the United States has little direct role in the generation of these revenues, it might indeed have more leverage than Europe in the situation by virtue of its more powerful sanctions (and secondary sanctions) toolbox. In either case, the sanctions coalition can target the price of Russian energy exports or the volume of the exports; thus far, sanctions have almost exclusively targeted the former. Rosneft and Lukoil sanctions do appear to be the first major attempt to remove some Russian oil from the market entirely.

Once again, there are multiple paths that the sanctions coalition can take. The simplest step would be to align and expand sanctions against shadow fleet oil tankers, which circumvent the oil price cap. While US sanctions against shadow fleet tankers have generally been the most effective, Brussels and London should continue their efforts to force Russian oil off the shadow fleet and back to the mainstream fleet, where the price cap applies. Washington adopting the EU’s new, lower oil price cap would also hurt Russia’s oil revenues. More severe options could target Russian export volumes by embargoing a specific port, deciding not to grant waivers for Rosneft and Lukoil sanctions, or even applying secondary sanctions on buyers of Russian oil.

Whether by hitting Russia’s military-industrial capacity or its energy revenues, the United States and its European allies can surely hinder Russia’s ability to continue prosecuting its war against Ukraine economically. What is less clear, particularly in Washington, is whether the political will exists to do so.

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About the authors

Elina Ribakova has been a nonresident senior fellow at the Peterson Institute for International Economics since April 2023. She is also a nonresident fellow at Bruegel and a director of the International Affairs Program and vice president for foreign policy at the Kyiv School of Economics. Her research focuses on global markets, economic statecraft, and economic sovereignty. She has been a senior adjunct fellow at the Center for a New American Security (2020–23) and a research fellow at the London School of Economics (2015–17).

Ribakova has over twenty-five years of experience with financial markets and research. She has held several senior level roles, including deputy chief economist at the Institute of International Finance in Washington, managing director and head of Europe, Middle East and Africa (EMEA) Research at Deutsche Bank in London, leadership positions at Amundi (Pioneer) Asset Management, and director and chief economist for Russia and the Commonwealth for Independent States (CIS) at Citigroup.

Prior to that, Ribakova was an economist at the International Monetary Fund in Washington (1999–2008) working on financial stability, macroeconomic policy design for commodity-exporting countries, and fiscal policy. Ribakova is a seasoned public speaker. She has participated in and led multiple panels with leading academics, policymakers, and C-level executives. She frequently collaborates with CNN, BBC, Bloomberg, CNBC, and NPR.

She is often quoted by and contributes op-eds to the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Financial Times, Washington Post, Guardian, Le Monde, El País, and several other media outlets.

Ribakova holds a master of science degree in economics from the University of Warwick (1999), where she was awarded the Shiv Nath prize for outstanding academic performance, and a master of science degree in data science from the University of Virginia (May 2023).

Lucas Risinger is an economic analyst and nonresident research fellow at the Kyiv School of Economics (KSE) Institute. His research focuses on the macroeconomics and military industrial complexes of Russia and Ukraine, as well as the Western sanctions regime against Russia.

Prior to joining KSE Institute, Risinger received his master’s degree from Harvard University’s Davis Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies, where his research centered around Ukraine’s modern economic development. He has studied and worked in Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Poland, Georgia, and Russia, and is fluent in Ukrainian and Russian.

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1    Rates remained at 21 percent for the first half of 2025 before the CBR entered a rate-cutting cycle in June. As of December, it has cut rates three times, down to 16.5 percent.
2    Source: General Administration of Customs of People’s Republic of China.
3    Using 2025 data in current US dollars (USD) from the International Monetary Fund’s World Economic Outlook.
4    In 2021, Germany imported 65 percent of its natural gas from Russia, whereas the EU as a whole imported 41 percent of its natural gas from Russia. Europe’s dependence on Russian energy has declined considerably since 2022 but has not disappeared entirely. A number of countries (including Germany) still import Russian liquefied natural gas, while Hungary and Slovakia remain the primary holdouts from the EU’s plan to phase out Russian oil.
5    Another stark visualization of the imbalance can be found at the Atlas of Economic Complexity.
6    It is also worth noting that the flood of Chinese cars into Russia has not been led by China’s booming electric vehicle (EV) industry—only about 10 percent of Chinese car sales in Russia are EVs.
7    Chinese firms also likely export CHPL items to Russia via Belarus and Central Asian countries, albeit at a smaller scale.
8    These costs include looser capital controls, opening up the yuan to speculative attacks and upward pressure from international capital flows, as well as the necessity of running a current account deficit.
9    Before the full-scale invasion, the Russian government abided by budget rules that were designed to be counter-cyclical: excess revenues (from oil and gas or from standard revenue sources) would be held in the NWF in foreign currencies, which could be converted back into rubles during downswings. This served to keep the ruble stable. These budget rules were temporarily abandoned after the full-scale invasion, however, and the NWF has been used to plug fiscal holes in the federal budget. A resumption of the budget rule saw deposits of renminbi and gold into the NWF, most recently in June 2025.
10    Large domestic banks are also the main facilitators of the large corporate credit expansion that has occurred during the full-scale war, prompting concerns that they are enabling the Kremlin to funnel money to the military-industrial complex.
11    Rostec is a state-owned military industrial behemoth that, for what it is worth, is one of the beneficiaries of the Kremlin’s subsidized loan programs.
12    Claims of progress on the Power of Siberia 2 project in September 2025 should not be overblown, as the two sides have yet to agree on three critical aspects: the price, the duration, and the take-or-pay level (the minimum amount of gas that China would purchase each year, regardless of demand). Without these three elements, any agreement is largely symbolic.
13    This section draws from a working paper for the Peterson Institute for International Economics (PIIE) co-authored by Yuriy Gorodnichenko, Iikka Korhonen, and Elina Ribakova.
14    Enforcing energy sanctions is no easy task either.
15    For example, the US Department of Commerce’s Bureau of Industry and Security, which handles export controls, is dreadfully under-resourced.

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Middle powers’ game-changing rivalries in Africa https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/middle-powers-game-changing-rivalries-in-africa/ Wed, 10 Dec 2025 15:12:42 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=892867 As traditional powers retreat, middle powers like Turkey, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, and Indonesia are stepping into Africa with ambitious investments and strategic outreach. Their growing presence is transforming alliances, competition, and development across the continent.

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While all eyes are on competing global powers such as the United States, China, and Russia, “middle powers” such as Turkey, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Indonesia, Malaysia, and other nations are making remarkable breakthroughs on the African continent. This engagement is profoundly reshaping the African theater.

Their recent footsteps on the continent are becoming more and more attention-grabbing. These include Saudi companies buying 2.2 million tons of carbon credits at a 2023 Kenya auction and, in 2024, the UAE becoming the biggest investor in new business projects in Africa—including an investment of $4.5 billion in clean energy on the continent. At the same time, global attention has focused on Khartoum’s suit at the International Court of Justice alleging UAE involvement in the civil war in Sudan, which broke out in early 2023. The UAE has denied supporting the Rapid Support Forces paramilitary group.

In 2024, the third Qatar Africa Business Forum took place, following the Chinese, Russian, Japanese, US, and European Union summits with African nations. Doha has also been hosting the peace talks between the DRC and Rwanda through the M23 since March 2025, with the meeting between Congolese President Felix Tshisekedi and Rwandan President Paul Kagame under the aegis of the Emir of Qatar, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani. Before the October 7 Hamas attacks, Israel hoped to join this geopolitical trend with the goal of amplifying its ties with African partners beyond traditional security issues. In 2023, Japan celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of the Tokyo International Conference on African Development. Meanwhile, Indonesia sealed $3.5 billion in business deals from the Indonesia-Africa Forum in 2024, nearly six times the amount generated at the first forum six years ago.

As middle-power nations position themselves on the international scene, they are entering into direct competition with global powers such as the United States, China, and Russia. Moreover, new tensions are emerging among middle powers. For example, in April 2025, India held its first-ever Africa-India Key Maritime Engagement (AIKEYME) exercise, co-hosted with Tanzania and involving nine other African nations such as Kenya, Madagascar, South Africa, Djibouti, and others. Part of India’s motivation for this exercise is to offer a non-coercive security alternative in the Indian Ocean—countering China’s increasingly dominant maritime presence in Africa. Observers see India’s large-scale naval outreach as part of a broader geopolitical push: by strengthening maritime ties, India is increasing its influence in Africa at the expense of China’s traditional footprint there.

Even for closer allies such as China and Russia, a competition can exist: Russia providing security, weapons, and political backing in insecure regions risks undermining China’s investments focused on long-term economic stability (infrastructure, trade).

These moves have been triggered by three major internal changes that occurred on the African continent in the past few years: population growth, pro-sovereignty sentiment, and industrial transformation.

The African century

First, Africa is poised to become the next “demographic champion,” behind India and China. It is already on track to double its population by 2050, and may be the most populous continent by the end of the century. On the youngest continent in the world, this shift will have a strong economic impact on business markets with a rising group of African workers, consumers, and clients. The continent had already launched the largest free trade area in the world with the 2018 signing of an agreement to create the African Continental Free Trade Area. The numbers confirm these structural shifts. In February 2024, the African Development Bank noted that Africa featured prominently in a list of the world’s fastest-growing economies in 2024 and had better-than-average growth prospects in 2025, subject to global shocks. Sub-Saharan economic growth averaged 4.0 percent in 2024, exceeding expectations by 0.4 percentage points—but global shocks created a “sudden shift in the economic landscape,” including higher tariffs and greater uncertainty, according to the IMF’s April 2025 sub-Saharan report. When the IMF lowered the global growth outlook for 2025 by 0.5 percent, it trimmed sub-Saharan Africa’s outlook by 0.4 percentage points to 3.8 percent, noting that “regional growth is now expected to slow this year.”

Second, internal sentiment has led to significant external changes. A feature of African public opinion is a strong eagerness to protect African nations’ sovereignty against former colonial powers like France, with collateral impact on those powers’ allies: After France withdrew its military forces from Niger, the United States was asked to close its military bases there in July 2024 and in Chad in May 2024.

Nations without a colonial past in Africa have also faced criticism and pushback, including a growing call for transparency and value creation when it comes to Chinese lending practices and mining exploitation. Meanwhile, Russia’s Africa Corps (the successor to the Wagner Group) has regularly been exposed for its contribution to deadly attacks in the Sahelian countries they are supposed to be supporting with security assistance. The strong aspiration for greater African sovereignty is not limited to authoritarian regimes in the Sahelian countries—Mali, Niger, Burkina-Faso, and Chad—that recently experienced coups d’états. Democratic regimes such as Senegal are pivoting toward a more independent path as evidenced by the presidential campaign of April 2024 and the victory of a “patriotic” candidate.

This powerful trend is visible in various sectors, from defense policy (with the end of military cooperation agreements) to currency (with the growing rejection of the France-linked CFA franc), energy (with new norms of mining exploration), and even arts (with the restitution of African cultural heritage).

Third, industrial transformation has become a priority for many African countries. Observing that humanitarian aid and assistance have not always been productive and cannot meet their huge development needs, most African countries prioritize a transformation-driven vision. In the energy sector, where Africa is home to 30 percent of the world’s critical mineral reserves (cobalt, lithium, rare earth elements, copper, chromium, graphite, manganese, and platinum), expectations for what the sector can deliver are higher than ever. And in Africa’s underdeveloped manufacturing sector, there is “a significant opportunity to leapfrog more developed nations and build a thriving low-carbon manufacturing sector from the ground up,” according to a McKinsey & Company report; to do so would likely require investments of roughly $2 trillion to spur “decarbonization-fueled growth.” Therefore, the question is simple: How can Africa move from the extractive, even predatory, model of which it has often been victim to one that guarantees economic diversification, infrastructure development, increased revenue, fiscal stability, improved environmental management, and workforce training?

Within this transformative context, rising middle powers are playing an opportunistic card to capture the new African demands and take advantage of the diversification of African partnerships. Indonesia, for example, which needs more critical minerals (such as lithium) to feed its electric-vehicle (EV) battery industry, is actively positioning itself in Africa’s mining space, in partnerships and not necessarily at the expense with African states.

This is quite significant because it shows Indonesians are not only investing in resource-rich African countries, but also partnering with local state mining firms. For example, PT Timah (an Indonesian tin mining company) has a signed memorandum of understanding with Stamico, a Tanzanian state-mining corporation, to explore tin, nickel, gold, and even rare earth elements.

Returning to Africa for the twenty-first time on the occasion of the thirty-seventh Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the Heads of State and Government of the African Union, Brazil’s President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva noted that “more than half of the 200 million Brazilian citizens recognize themselves as Afro-descendants.” During Lula’s first presidency, Brazil opened nineteen African embassies. Meanwhile, India showcased its support for the African Union’s Group of Twenty (G20) permanent seat in September 2023.

Regional routes

Very often, investment expansion starts with a bold airline strategy. Consider Turkish Airlines, which connects more than sixty African destinations and has long been a key tool for Turkey’s influence in Africa. Thanks to its “Action Plan for Africa” in 1998 and its “Opening to Africa” program launched in 2005, Turkey’s international outreach to sub-Saharan Africa has flourished, while the European Union’s doors remain closed to Ankara. Turkey has expanded trade ties with African partners, with bilateral trade growing from $5.4 billion in 2003 to $40.7 billion in 2022. The number of Turkish embassies has also increased from twelve to forty-three between 2009 and 2021.

Qatar is taking similar steps, with Qatar Airways investing $1.3 billion to acquire 49 percent of RwandAir in 2020 and, more recently, a 25 percent equity stake in one of Africa’s largest regional airlines, Airlink, which serves fifteen African countries and flies to forty-five destinations.

Building on this experience and taking advantage of their geographical proximity, many Muslim countries in the Middle East have been developing ties with African countries. Water, forests, land, critical minerals: Africa has strategic resources Gulf countries lack. From 2016 to 2023, the commercial volume generated between the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries—the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, Bahrain, and Oman—and Africa doubled to $121 billion, according to Afreximbank. The pan-African organization notes that those investments come primarily from the UAE (54.9 percent), Saudi Arabia (25.6 percent), Qatar (7.2 percent), Kuwait (5 percent), and Bahrain (4.2 percent); they have been directed to Egypt (69.8 percent), Morocco (4.6 percent), Algeria (3 percent), Nigeria (2.6 percent), and South Africa (2.3 percent).The level of direct investments in Africa between 2012 and 2022 has outpaced $100 billion, while the Gulf countries spent $9.2 billion in aid in 2022 (equal to 14 percent of global aid received by African countries). The key sectors of investment are construction, environmental technology, energy, transportation, and agribusiness.

What is a middle power?

Despite their geographical diversity, the middle powers that have emerged on the African scene in a significant way share common features.

For sure, we know they are neither superpowers like the Cold War’s United States and USSR nor hyperpowers as the United States was named following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. They don’t belong to the P5, the group of permanent members of the United Nations Security Council (China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States). Economically speaking, they are not yet among the richest countries in the world (based on gross domestic product): the United States, China, Germany, Japan, India, the United Kingdom, France, Italy, and Canada. (The case of India is discussed below.) But many are close: Brazil (tenth place), South Korea (twelfth), Indonesia (sixteenth), Turkey (seventeenth), Saudi Arabia (nineteenth), and the UAE (twenty-seventh). Even if some have not reached the top thirty, their ambitions are large enough to place them among Africa’s rising partners, such as Qatar (in fifty-fifth place), which pledged to invest $103 billion across six African countries in 2025.

Beyond belonging to the group of high-GDP countries, middle-power nations have four other common characteristics:

  • They make demonstrations of power: e.g., South Africa referred a case to the International Court of Justice in May 2024 accusing Israel of “genocide” in Gaza.
  • Middle powers can belong to the neighborhood, like the Gulf countries, or be located far away like South Korea, which organized a June 2024 African summit attracting forty-eight African delegations.
  • Their influence is contained because a regional power is not autonomous: It belongs to a more global system of influence like Turkey, which may be expanding its diplomacy in Africa but is limited by its NATO membership.
  • Middle powers must be creative by deploying indirect persuasion techniques on the ground: In 2017, Turkey persuaded Senegal to close schools linked to Fethullah Gülen, a cleric Ankara alleges was behind a 2016 coup attempt.

The cases of Russia and India

While some of the countries mentioned above clearly belong to the category of middle powers, two cases remain difficult to classify.

After losing the Cold War and its empire in 1991, Russia, now the world’s eleventh largest power in terms of GDP, has since sought to move from a Eurasian middle power, integrated into the Commonwealth of Independent States, to a global power that spans from its position within the Shanghai Cooperation Organization as far as Africa with the newly renamed Africa Corps, which deploys propaganda operations there.

As for India, the most populous country and the fifthlargest economic power in the world, it has been able to expand its influence in Africa thanks to the longstanding presence of its diaspora in the east of the continent as well as its involvement in the Non-Aligned Movement, which emerged from a summit in Bandung, Indonesia, in 1953.

The uncertainty about the position of Russia and India is not due to their economic power—they are both among the richest countries in the world—but stems from the fact that these two countries have more impact than the middle powers but less than the global powers. They have features of both groups. Time will tell where they will fall. Thus, while Russia was the leading supplier of arms to Africa ($14.6 billion) in 2021—far ahead of the United States ($5.4 billion)—the level of its trade with Africa has remained very low. According to European data, in 2022, Africa’s imports from Russia were less than 2 percent of its total imports; and African exports to Russia were less than 1 percent of Africa’s total exports. This supports the idea that even as trade has grown in absolute terms, Russia is still not a major economic partner for Africa compared to the European Union or China.

Three weight classes

The middle-power nations can be divided into three groups, depending on their economic weight and the depth of their engagement in Africa:

  • Level 1: UAE, Brazil, and Turkey
  • Level 2: Iran, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar
  • Level 3: South Korea and Malaysia

They are all benefiting from the retreat of the former colonial powers, which are essentially European, the most striking expression of which is France in the Sahel. Also of note is the relative weakening of superpowers in Africa: According to a recent Gallup report, China surpassed the United States in popularity on the continent in 2023. At the same time, China’s dominant position is no longer so hegemonic: While the value of China-Africa trade has increased nearly thirty-fold since 2000 to reach $282 billion in 2023—making China Africa’s largest trading partner—China’s official loans totaled less than $1 billion in 2022 for the first time in eighteen years, according to Boston University’s Global Initiative for China. When the world powers are less involved, there is a vacuum that the middle powers have been quick to fill. And African nations are among those interested in interacting with them in regional groups such as the BRICS: South Africa, Ethiopia, and Egypt have all joined the intergovernmental organization.

Creativity and boldness

In any case, the tools of influence that the middle-power nations deploy in Africa are different from those of the traditional powers. Thus, the UAE has established itself, with its maritime giant Dubai Ports World, as one of the world’s largest port operators in the strategic areas of the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, with the aim of being less dependent on hydrocarbons and ensuring its food security. The cultural influence of regional powers, which is less well-known, has also been crucial in recent years. For example, Saudi Arabia’s investments in West African education systems have increased the use of the Arabic language. The Indian diasporas have served as an effective support for India’s strategy, whose successful Bollywood films participate in the information war. The Qatari channel Al Jazeera and the Turkish news agency Anadolu cover the continent widely. Many middle powers broadcast their messages in local African languages; Turkey’s TRT and Natural TV offer programs in Hausa and Swahili and television series popular in many countries.

As a result, these middle powers have acquired considerable political influence. India took advantage of its presidency of the G20 in September 2023 to take credit for the African Union’s permanent seat in the G20. In 2015, many African countries, including Niger, Chad, and Mauritania, joined the founding members of the Islamic Military Counterterrorism Coalition, created by Saudi Arabia.

While none of these middle powers has been able to replace the traditional global powers or former colonial powers such as France or the United Kingdom in terms of engagement volume, their growing influence on the continent puts them in a position of strength. The competition will not, however, benefit everyone in the long run. No doubt the future belongs to the powers that can navigate the shifts already underway by forming complementary and winning alliances in a more complex geopolitical scene—dominated by interests, not ideology. This is undoubtedly the reason why, in the African theater, Russia and Iran are seeking closer cooperation, as, separately, China and Russia are as well. On these complex alliances, the Western powers are behind. Meanwhile, regional powers may need to clarify their intentions in Africa, such as the case of the UAE in the bloody civil war in Sudan, in order to preserve their comparative advantage vis-à-vis the informed African public, aware of what is happening on their soil.

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Delivering justice and jobs is the real test of Ghana’s storied democracy https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/delivering-justice-and-jobs-is-the-real-test-of-ghanas-storied-democracy/ Thu, 04 Dec 2025 21:32:04 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=888683 Vigilant media and active civil society sustain Ghana’s democracy, but weak judicial independence erodes public trust. Rising youth joblessness calls for reforms to strengthen industry, modernize agriculture, and align skills training to labor-market needs.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Civil society and independent media are the backbone of Ghana’s democracy: Their roles as watchdogs, notably real-time monitoring and publication of polling-station election results, has strengthened credibility of election outcomes.
  • Judicial independence remains fragile, with public trust in the judiciary dropping by 20 percentage points since 2011.
  • Limited job prospects for Ghana’s growing population of educated youth present a significant threat to its democratic consolidation.

This is the first chapter in the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s 2026 Atlas, which analyzes the state of freedom and prosperity in ten countries. Drawing on our thirty-year dataset covering political, economic, and legal developments, this year’s Atlas is the evidence-based guide to better policy in 2026.

Evolution of freedom

Ghana’s signature achievement since the mid-1990s is the consolidation of civic and political freedoms and a competitive political order in which citizens, journalists, and civic organizations routinely hold leaders to account. The durability of this achievement is not a result of elite benevolence or political will but the product of a dense, independent civil society and a remarkably resilient independent media ecosystem. When governments test the boundaries of civic space, the response is often swift and organized; this social infrastructure is the primary reason Ghana’s civic and political freedoms have remained consistently strong for more than two decades. This context is reflected in the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Indexes’ political subindex for Ghana, which sits well above the economic and legal subindices. In recent years, it sits in the low-to-mid 70s out of a maximum score of 100, a pattern that aligns with lived realities. In the most recent Afrobarometer survey, conducted in 2024, an overwhelming majority of Ghanaians (85 percent) reported that they did not fear political violence or intimidation during the last national elections, a strong testament to the electoral freedoms that Ghanaians enjoy. Moreover, a majority (52 percent) expressed trust in civil society organizations, ahead of religious leaders (who are trusted by 49 percent). Only the military (trusted by 65 percent) ranks ahead of civil society organizations in Ghana.1

The historical roots of this civic vigilance matter. From the anti-colonial mobilization led by Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first post-independence president, and mass professional and student associations to later generations of advocacy groups and think tanks, Ghanaians have long treated resistance to state overreach as a civic obligation.

As formal unions of lawyers, teachers, students, and medical professionals gave way to contemporary civil society and independent media organizations and research networks—among them, the Media Foundation for West Africa, the Ghana Anti-Corruption Coalition, the Ghana Integrity Initiative, the Ghana Center for Democratic Development, and many others, including subnational advocacy groups—the core impulse has remained the same: to protect and defend civic space, demand procedural fairness, and insist that those in power remain answerable to the public. This explains why the social reaction to efforts to undermine political freedoms is often met with resistance and why Ghana’s political openings have not been easily reversed.


Ghanaians have long treated resistance to state overreach as a civic obligation.


Electoral integrity is a useful illustration of how these social checks operate. While the courts can usually be swayed by partisan crosscurrents when individual political actors are charged with corruption or other acts of impropriety, the dynamic is often different with election disputes. The vigilance of civil society and independent media organizations in monitoring and independently collating election results at the polling-station level often helps to provide credible evidence when electoral disputes arise. The volume and quality of that evidence strengthen adjudication, making it harder for judicial bias to gain traction and increasing the credibility of outcomes, even in contentious contests.2 This distinction is important: While the administration of justice in ordinary (nonpolitical) cases is broadly reliable, the politicization of corruption cases can distort judicial behavior; election cases, by contrast, have benefitted from robust, external scrutiny that fortifies the work of the courts.

This juxtaposition points to the core challenge in Ghana’s performance on legal freedom: The judiciary’s structural vulnerability to executive influence, particularly through appointments to the High Court and Supreme Court. Observers can—and do—sort judges into partisan “buckets,” a perception that inevitably erodes confidence in the system’s neutrality. Survey data clearly show a deterioration of citizens’ trust in the judicial system in the last fifteen years, falling by 20 percentage points since 2011.3 Yet outside of high-stakes political cases, the courts tend to function competently and deliver justice with regularity.

Recent movement in the legal subindex has been mildly positive, driven in part by improvements in informality and, to a lesser degree, by steadier security conditions after the turbulence of the early 2000s. On informality, the government’s digitalization initiatives, including the introduction of national (and tax) identification (the Ghana Card) and a digital address system, have helped to identify and increasingly formalize informal businesses. Other initiatives, such as the institution of fee-free secondary education, opened opportunities for young Ghanaians to further their education instead of entering the informal economy. The National Youth Employment Program, although relatively less successful, helped to draw young entrepreneurs into more formalized activities. Finally, a surge of capital investments into construction, alongside an expansion in mining activities, has created demand for artisans, contractors, and allied tradespeople who transact in more formal ways than the street-level microenterprise typical in developing economies. The result is a measurable reduction in the prevalence of informality, a trend visible within the relevant component of the legal subindex.

The gradual strengthening of security owes more to internal stability than to a benign regional environment. Ghana’s northern border with Burkina Faso and proximity to Nigeria’s insurgency-affected areas create constant risks, and yet Ghana has avoided the cascade of instability that has afflicted parts of the Sahel. That relative steadiness, together with the normal functioning of everyday justice for nonpolitical cases, helps explain why legal freedom is trending slightly upward despite persistent concerns about executive sway over judicial appointments and decisions.


Ghana has avoided the cascade of instability that has afflicted parts of the Sahel.

Corruption control within the justice sector is another area to watch. Across administrations, chief justices have consistently placed anti-corruption at the center of their institutional reform agendas, and recent executive appeals to rebuild public trust in the courts suggest continued political salience. However, these public commitments have not always translated into tangible reforms or outcomes. Public perception of judicial corruption remains high: According to the 2024 Afrobarometer survey, more than 40 percent of Ghanaians believe that “most or all judges and magistrates” are corrupt.4 The growing trend of presidents appointing loyalists to the Supreme Court has only reinforced these perceptions, contributing to Ghana’s relatively weak performance on the legal subindex. The ongoing constitutional review presents an opportunity to reform judicial appointments and promotions, tighten avenues for corruption, and strengthen judicial independence.

Ghana’s strong performance on elections, civil liberties, and political rights within the political subindex is tempered by weaker scores on legislative constraints on the executive, highlighting concerns about the effectiveness of institutional checks in practice. However, civil society remains uncompromising in defending democratic norms, including contesting attempts to erode these checks. The resulting equilibrium is not perfect—nor is it immutable—but it has proven remarkably resilient over the past generation.

Economic freedoms have followed their own trajectory, with a notable increase from the mid-2000s into the first half of the 2010s, a period that coincided with the broader “Africa Rising” narrative. This period was characterized by strong improvements in governance and economic growth, rising incomes, and a growing middle class. Consolidation of Ghana’s return to constitutional democracy commenced in the year 2000 with the transfer of power from the ruling party to an opposition party, which further boosted optimism in the country’s political and economic outlook. The new political leadership signaled a clear focus on improving the economy, and market openness and property-rights enforcement seemed to find firmer footing. Former President John Kufuor is remembered in this context for emphasizing macroeconomic health and business-climate improvements that many citizens experienced in their daily lives. The results of committed political leadership and effective economic management are reflected in the economic subindex and the other components such as investment freedom and property rights, starting in the mid-2000s.

The subsequent downturn around 2015 is worth noting. Rising debt-service pressures, coupled with a large budget deficit and high inflation culminated in Ghana going in for an IMF program; a similar pattern occurred around 2023-24 as reflected in the downward trend of the economic subindex. These patterns signal the fragility of gains when fiscal anchors are not backed by disciplined fiscal decisions—such as politically motivated increases in public spending during election years and subsidies on utilities and petroleum products, among others—and when investment freedom and property-rights expectations face credibility questions. These observations underscore that Ghana’s enviable political freedoms do not automatically translate into disciplined fiscal management or sustained economic openness. The freedom metrics capture this: The political subindex remains high, while the economic and legal dimensions fluctuate with policy choices that either reinforce or erode market institutions and democratic norms.

Trade freedom tells a more erratic story. Ghana’s trade policy framework has generally been open by regional standards, but the component’s volatility reflects the broader health of the economy and investors’ read on the policy environment. In periods of economic stress, policy consistency suffers, and openness on paper does not translate into confidence in practice. The trends in the data thus track not only tariff schedules and non-tariff measures but also the credibility of macroeconomic management, which is often punctuated in election years.

The trajectory of women’s economic freedom stands out as a major structural improvement. Around 2004, there was a steep rise in the economic subindex driven in part by a cluster of women’s empowerment policies of the Kufuor administration: free maternal health services, including postnatal care services that reduced a key barrier to women’s labor-market participation, and explicit efforts to expand women’s access to finance and enterprise support. Those initiatives may have helped to boost women’s economic autonomy and anchor a higher plateau that persisted in the years that followed. The component’s level has stagnated since about 2008 and hence leaves some room for improvement—but the rapid change around 2004 is unmistakable. Recent Afrobarometer survey data for Ghana show strong popular support for women to have equal rights to work as men. However, more than a quarter of Ghanaians (26 percent) identify employers’ preference for hiring men as the top barrier to women’s advancement, ahead of childcare (17 percent) and skills gaps (16 percent).5

Where do remaining constraints lie? First, land ownership: In Ghana,  community and family lands are predominantly controlled by male heads; women’s ownership and collateralization of land remain very limited. Given the economic value of land, women remain at a significant disadvantage that dampens entrepreneurship, constrains access to credit, and restricts intergenerational wealth transfer for women. Second, intrahousehold decision-making: In many households, women’s ability to take paid work outside the home remains mediated by male authority. These social and legal frictions are the kinds of de facto constraints that keep the Women’s Economic Freedom component below its potential despite the formal policy gains that started in the mid-2000s.

Evolution of prosperity

Ghana’s prosperity trajectory since the mid-2000s mirrors, in broad outline, the “Africa Rising” era: a period of macroeconomic optimism, improved governance, favorable terms of trade, and political stability across much of the continent. Between 2005 and the mid-2010s, the Prosperity Index registered a strong and upward trend, reflecting the robust growth in incomes and steady improvements in social indicators, even as inequality widened in the classic early-development pattern. Ghana rode this wave and, for several years, significantly outpaced the sub-Saharan Africa average.

The story of the income component is familiar but still striking in its local particulars. A large discovery of offshore oil in the late 2000s added a new driver to a commodity basket already weighted toward gold and cocoa. In the mid-2000s, when global commodity prices were favorable, Ghana’s growth accelerated sharply; in 2011, Ghana recorded a double-digit real GDP growth rate (about 11 percent), up from about 8 percent the year prior. Oil windfalls amplified these gains, though they also heightened exposure to volatility and raised questions about how resource-linked revenues were managed.6 The income component of the Prosperity Index captures this rise and the subsequent plateau, which has persisted over the last decade. Reversals are visible too, mainly coinciding with the two IMF interventions mentioned earlier, driven in large part by fiscal indiscipline during election years.

The inequality component of the Prosperity Index shows a rapid deterioration, especially from the year 2000. But the composition of Ghana’s inequality is complex. It is not simply a rural-urban story; it is also generational. Large cohorts of better-educated youth, especially those under thirty-five, struggle to find formal employment at scale, while older cohorts, who are relatively less educated, hold on to existing jobs.7 The consequence is an age-skewed labor market that expands inequality even as education levels rise. On the rural side, extensive reliance on small-holder agriculture—more than 40 percent of the population is engaged in subsistence farming—keeps cash incomes low. Climate variability has compounded these pressures, with shifts in rainfall and temperature patterns outpacing the seed and crop research needed to adapt. The Index’s inequality line captures the macro pattern, and the underlying micro-mechanisms are the youth (un)employment crunch and the persistent productivity trap of smallholder agriculture.

Environment and health are relative bright spots. The national push to switch households from charcoal and wood to liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) for cooking—especially the 2013 rural LGP promotion program—may have helped to reduce indoor air pollution and, with it, the number of respiratory and related illnesses. Additionally, the government’s 2021 Green Ghana initiative to plant five million trees nationwide to combat desertification signaled a strong commitment to environmental issues in the country.8 The behavioral transition and practical action on desertification probably account for the Prosperity Index’s environment component alongside CO₂ and other measures. On the health side, Ghana’s COVID-19 response benefitted from institutional memory and capacity developed during earlier West African epidemics. Ebola never crossed into Ghana, thanks in part to the region’s experience dealing with health epidemics. When COVID-19 broke out, pandemic protocols were quickly activated and enforced, which resulted in comparatively low infection rates and deaths and a health system that proved more resilient than many expected.

Education presents a more mixed picture. Policy volatility in the secondary cycle—oscillating between three- and four-year models—created confusion and capacity mismatches just as youth cohorts ballooned. Free, compulsory basic education expanded access, but in many districts infrastructure and staffing could not keep pace, producing “shift systems” and, in some cases, causing students to drop out before completing upper-secondary education. Because the Prosperity Index’s education component bundles mean years of schooling with expected attainment, the friction from policy oscillation and demographic pressure is visible at a level that remains middling despite long-run improvements.

Finally, informality also intersects with prosperity through the labor market. The government’s digitalization programs—the introduction of the Ghana Card, which links to individual tax identification numbers, as well as the digital address system—have expanded formalization of the national economy. Moreover, governments’ special initiatives to increase youth employment and a boon in the construction and mining sectors have pulled workers into the formal sector. These interventions should, in principle, raise tax revenues and improve public service availability and access over time. The hard question is durability: Formalization built on cyclical or enclave sectors may not last if investment slows or governance costs mount. The Prosperity Index cannot answer that question by itself, but its pattern—modest gains in prosperity with uneven distributional effects and vulnerability to macro slippage—point to areas where reforms might matter most.

The path forward

The economic, social, and political outlook of Ghana’s next decade will depend largely on the steadiness with which it improves core institutions and transforms its civic strength into predictable, broad-based gains. Moreover, aligning reforms to citizens’ stated priorities—jobs, public services, and integrity—can increase traction.9 The political foundations are relatively strong; the next important step is ensuring that the transparency and accountability mechanisms that guard the conduct of elections also insulate the justice system from partisan distortion in high-stakes cases. Judicial appointments will remain politically salient, but the deeper imperative is to tighten the system’s incentives so that corruption cases are decided on evidence rather than allegiance. Civil society and media can help—by maintaining the evidentiary standard that has worked in election disputes—but ultimately the judiciary must build a reputation for political impartiality that is strong enough to withstand executive pressure. The ongoing constitutional review offers a chance to implement a judicial reform agenda that delivers on this objective.

Economic management is the second pillar. The political business cycles are familiar by now: A new government comes to power and starts out with prudent fiscal management that boosts confidence and attracts investment, often resulting in an increase in the economic subindex. Then comes election time and fiscal indiscipline—such as excessive borrowing and indiscriminate public spending with weak fiscal oversight—erode confidence and investment freedom, triggering adjustment and decline. Breaking this cycle requires more than fiscal rules on paper; it requires political commitment to enforce them consistently and minimize politically motivated borrowing and spending. The 2015 and 2024 IMF programs are markers of what happens when that discipline falters. In the coming years, the goal should be to make investment freedom boring—i.e., stable, predictable, and insulated from the electoral business cycle.

On economic freedom, two structural agendas stand out. The first is women’s economic freedom. The 2004 leap tied to women-centered policies shows how targeted policy can permanently raise the ceiling of economic progress. The unfinished business is in property rights, especially land ownership. In areas where family land remains the norm and titles are controlled by male heads, women’s ability to own, mortgage, and leverage land is curtailed. Reform here is politically delicate, embedded in social norms and local authority structures, but the economic payoff could be enormous: more women-owned firms, better access to credit, and fairer intergenerational asset accumulation. The women’s freedom component of the Index offers a clear benchmark; moving from the mid-seventies to the high eighties would require not just programs but enforceable property rights.

The second is youth (un)employment. Inequality in Ghana increasingly wears a generational face;a cohort of better-educated young people cannot find formal, stable jobs in sufficient numbers. Policy tools here must focus on easing business entry, expansion in labor-absorbing sectors, and modernizing agricultural value chains so that rural youth are not confined to subsistence farming. Climate-smart research and extension services, reliable input markets, and storage and transport infrastructure can help farmers move up the value ladder—and should be paired with vocational pathways aligned to construction, light manufacturing, and services. Such an agenda could help to address the twin problems of rural low productivity and urban underemployment.

Strengthened legal freedom and rule of law can support both agendas if reforms focus on clarity of the law and the quality of bureaucracy. Where statutes are clear, predictable, and enforced uniformly, the transaction costs that push firms into informality will fall; where frontline administration is competent and corruption risks are contained, formalization becomes a benefit rather than a burden. Ghana’s recent sector-led formalization has demonstrated that workers and firms will choose formal channels when the opportunity set changes. The task now is to make those choices systemic: digital one-stop services for business registration and tax collection; credible and quick adjudication for commercial disputes; and incentives for small firms to formalize without fear of retroactive penalties.

Regional (in)security will remain a concerning external variable. Instability in parts of the Sahel and the enduring threat of violent extremism in neighboring regions create risks that Ghana has to grapple with. The country’s success to date reflects internal discipline and professional security services, but the calculus can change quickly as alliances and external funding priorities shift. Ghana’s democratic resilience—anchored in a vigilant civil society and robust private media—makes it better placed than many to navigate these shocks without sacrificing core freedoms. The imperative is to ensure that security responses remain proportionate and bounded by law, so that security gains are not purchased at the cost of civil and political liberties that have been the bedrock of Ghana’s democratic success story.

Geoeconomic partnerships will also shape the opportunity set for Ghana. Specifically, infrastructure that lowers freight costs—an inland port located up north with rail connectivity, for instance—has immediate appeal, and Ghana would do well by investing in this area. Engagements with Chinese state and private investors are often judged domestically on whether they deliver such tangible benefits; they are not, by themselves, read as threats to democratic credentials. The test for the next decade is to structure these partnerships transparently, align them with national priorities, and avoid governance concessions that have complicated infrastructure deals elsewhere. If done well, they can help stabilize economic policy by supporting trade freedom in practice, not just on paper, and by attracting private investment that widens formal employment.

The prosperity side of the ledger will hinge on two slow-moving but decisive social investments. The first is education system reliability. When secondary school terms oscillate, cohort planning collapses; when seating capacity lags enrollment, “shift systems” lead to lost learning and early exits. The policy objective must prioritize stability: a curriculum and cycle length that survives political alternation, infrastructure that grows with cohorts, and targeted support to keep marginal students—especially rural girls—through upper secondary. If achieved, educational attainment will move steadily upward, with compounding effects on income and inequality.

The second is health and environment. Ghana’s clean cooking fuel and afforestation initiatives demonstrate how coordinated public messaging and practical access can drive large-scale shifts in household behavior—which often yield immediate and tangible benefits. Extending this logic—through cleaner fuels, safer urban air, adaptive health systems, and expanded green coverage—can enhance environmental quality, improve health outcomes, and free up resources otherwise consumed by preventable disease burdens.

Finally, the country’s political economy will continue to be shaped by how it manages its natural resource wealth. When mineral and oil revenues supplant tax collection, citizens have fewer reasons to monitor spending, governments face fewer incentives to be transparent, public resource leakages rise, and the discipline that keeps debt manageable erodes. A forward-looking reform would therefore tackle the credible fiscal rules that bind during booms, transparent revenue management that makes it costly to divert funds, and a tax system that is simple enough to comply with and fair enough to legitimize. The expanded government digitalization programs offer sound foundations to make this possible. If Ghana can lock in these basics while preserving the civic and media freedoms that have distinguished it for three decades, legal and economic institutions will catch up and converge with political freedom, and prosperity gains will follow.

Ghana’s comparative advantage is … the lived practice of accountability that precedes and outlasts any single administration.

Civil society and media have proven that they can guard the franchise; the task before us is to extend that guardianship to the legal system’s most politically sensitive corners and to the fiscal choices that unlock prosperity and avoid the familiar cycle of fiscal indiscipline, crisis, and repair. If managed well, the evidence should be visible where it matters most: a steadier investment freedom line, a women’s economic freedom score that rises again rather than plateaus, an inequality curve that bends as youth employment expands, and a legal freedom profile that reflects not just order in the streets but fairness in the courtroom. That is the trajectory Ghana can reasonably aim for in the decade ahead, and it is within reach.

about the author

Joseph Asunka is the CEO of Afrobarometer, a pan-African survey research organization that conducts public attitude surveys on governance and social issues across the continent. His research interests are in governance, democracy, and political economy of development. He holds a PhD in political science from the University of California at Los Angeles.

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1    Center for Democratic Development, Afrobarometer Round 10 Survey in Ghana, 2024, https://www.afrobarometer.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/04/Ghana-summary-of-results-Afrobarometer-R10-22april25.pdf (see pages 30, 32, and 33 of the summary of results tables).
2    For causal evidence that domestic observers in Ghana’s 2012 elections reduced fraud and violence at monitored stations and altered parties’ manipulation strategies, see Joseph Asunka et al.,  “Electoral Fraud or Violence: The Effect of Observers on Party Manipulation Strategies,” British Journal of Political Science 49, no. 1 (2019): 129–51.
4    Center for Democratic Development, “Ghanaians Decry Widespread Corruption, Afrobarometer Survey Shows,” news release, February 14, 2025, https://www.afrobarometer.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/R10-News-release-Ghanaians-decry-widespread-corruption-Afrobarometer-14feb25.pdf.
6    According to an Afrobarometer survey in 2022, 85 percent of Ghanaians support tighter regulations of natural resource extraction. See Center for Democratic Development, “Ghanaians Call for Tighter Regulation of Natural Resource Extraction,” news release, November 8, 2022, https://www.afrobarometer.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/R9-News-release-Ghanaians-call-for-tighter-regulation-of-natural-resource-extraction-Afrobarometer-bh-7november22.pdf?utm_source=chatgpt.com.
7    Josephine Appiah-Nyamekye Sanny, Shannon van Wyk-Khosa, and Joseph Asunka, “Africa’s Youth: More Educated, Less Employed, Still Unheard in Policy and Development,” Afrobarometer, November 15, 2023, https://www.afrobarometer.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/AD734-PAP3-Africas-youth-More-educated-less-employed-still-unheard-Afrobarometer-13nov23.pdf.
8    Elorm Ntumy, “Green Ghana Day: A Chance to Turn the Tide on Deforestation,” UN Capital Development Fund, 2021, https://www.uncdf.org/article/6857/green-ghana-day.
9    See Joseph Asunka and E. Gyimah-Boadi, “People-Centered Development: Why the Policy Priorities and Lived Experiences of African Citizens Should Matter for National Development Policy,” Foresight Africa 2025–2030, May 13, 2025, https://www.brookings.edu/articles/people-centered-development-why-the-policy-priorities-and-lived-experiences-of-african-citizens-should-matter-for-national-development-policy/.

The post Delivering justice and jobs is the real test of Ghana’s storied democracy appeared first on Atlantic Council.

]]> Improving transatlantic cooperation on digital competition https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/improving-transatlantic-cooperation-on-digital-competition/ Thu, 04 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=888039 Greater dialogue between US and EU regulators would reveal similar priorities on digital competition, mergers, and antitrust issues, and could lead to greater alignment on key digital competition issues.

The post Improving transatlantic cooperation on digital competition appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Despite US officials’ stated opposition to the EU’s Digital Markets Act, the United States and the European Union have similar priorities on digital competition.
  • Dialogue between US and EU regulators could identify consistent approaches to mergers and antitrust issues, making it easier for companies to adopt similar business models on both sides of the Atlantic.
  • Public communications linking antitrust actions to consumer welfare, competitiveness, and economic growth can help competition enforcers withstand political pressure.

Executive summary

President Donald Trump’s policies are substantially reshaping prospects for transatlantic cooperation across a range of policy areas. In digital competition, the picture is complex. The Trump administration opposes Europe’s competition regulation, but both the European Commission and US federal and state competition enforcers have similar priorities when it comes to competition in digital markets.

US-European Union (EU) dialogue could help make interventions to promote digital competition more effective. It could boost consistency (helping firms adopt the same remedies across both sides of the Atlantic) and help regulators share knowledge and best practices. Beyond technical alignment, EU and US authorities can coordinate on narratives and messaging, ensuring that regulatory measures are perceived as fair and mitigating the risk of digital competition policy fueling foreign policy disputes.

At a recent roundtable hosted by the Centre on Regulation in Europe (CERRE) and the Atlantic Council, we identified the following recommendations for competition enforcers on digital antitrust.

  • The European Commission and national competition authorities should continue to cooperate with US federal agencies and strengthen their cooperation with US state attorneys general, given their important role in US digital antitrust cases.
  • To effectively learn from each other’s experience with remedies, and to enhance mutual learning and correct remedies when needed, competition agencies in both the EU and the United States should have a robust, evidence-based assessment about how their remedies have performed.
  • The European Commission needs to improve its communication strategy when pursuing antitrust cases. Antitrust enforcement must be closely linked to consumer welfare, competitiveness, and economic growth. Enhancing its legitimacy can help ensure European competition enforcers withstand any political pressure.
  • Europe needs to better highlight how open and competitive markets foster innovation. Tools to open competition are therefore important ways to support US and European global technological leadership.

In relation to merger policy, competition authorities on both sides of the Atlantic are evolving to better tackle the role of innovation in digital markets. Recommendations include the following.

  • EU and US authorities should develop consistent guidelines setting out how they will assess a merger’s impacts on innovation capabilities (such as chips and computing power, skills, data, and risky and patient capital) and incentives to innovate. Pro-innovation merger control should promote the new innovators and not protect the old ones.
  • The Directorate-General for Competition (DG-Comp) should aim to learn from the US merger guidelines and US authorities’ recent practices to inform the EU’s current exercise of revising its own guidelines.
  • As with antitrust remedies, competition authorities in both the EU and the United States must be honest and clear about how their merger remedies have performed, so that different authorities can become better by learning from each other’s successes and mistakes.

Introduction

Trump’s policies have challenged the transatlantic relationship and are reshaping prospects for transatlantic cooperation. On digital competition, the picture is particularly complex. The president and some of his appointees to the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) and the Department of Justice (DOJ) Antitrust Division oppose Europe’s competition regulation, the Digital Markets Act (DMA)—and the president recently threatened to investigate the EU’s nearly €3 billion fine imposed on Google as an unfair trade barrier under Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974. Despite this, when it comes to ex post digital antitrust cases, US federal and state competition enforcers and the European Commission have similar priorities. More broadly, competition authorities on both sides of the Atlantic are grappling with how to adopt consistent, principled, and predictable approaches in digital markets. This can better take innovation, investment, and firms’ capabilities into consideration during competitive analysis, and a consistent approach is key for global corporations.

US-EU dialogue could help improve the efficiency and effectiveness of interventions to promote digital competition. It could do the following.

  • Facilitate mutually consistent approaches to common regulatory challenges, reducing burdens on regulators and making it easier for global firms to adopt the same business models across both sides of the Atlantic.
  • Even where consistency is not possible, help regulators by sharing knowledge and best practices, or even help authorities to divide and conquer in areas such as ex post antitrust cases in which authorities on both sides of the Atlantic are pursuing similar goals.
  • Mitigate the risks of foreign policy disputes as digital competition interventions increasingly have cross-border impacts, and as the Trump administration bristles at foreign governments enforcing competition law and pro-competitive regulation against US champions.

But how can this mutually beneficial cooperation be maintained? In 2021, the EU and United States established a Joint Technology Competition Policy Dialogue, supplementing established agreements between the European and US competition agencies, and there is still dialogue between antitrust enforcers. However, given the growing perception of a difference in values between the EU and the United States, and tensions on a range of topics from trade to defense, prospects for cooperation risk becoming narrower in the future.

Cooperation on digital antitrust

European and US authorities have a significant degree of alignment on ex post antitrust enforcement in the digital sector. In digital markets, large firms have often argued that highly innovative digital markets had natural “winner take all” characteristics, but there is nevertheless competition for the market. These firms argue they are subjected to significant competitive pressure from those who might displace them with disruptive innovation and, therefore, have strong incentives to keep innovating. This implies a marginal role for competition agencies. In practice, however, many digital markets have seen little displacement of incumbents in recent years. Effective antitrust remedies not only enforce competition law but also create space for innovation, enabling new entrants and disruptive technologies to challenge incumbents and thrive. While, until recently, innovation in some markets appeared to have slowed, there is an open question about how much artificial intelligence (AI) could disrupt the architecture of digital ecosystems—and whether that implies antitrust authorities should step back or play a role in keeping this possibility open.

In the meantime, competition authorities in the EU and United States have become more assertive. On the US side, the FTC and DOJ are pursuing cases against tech firms brought under previous administrations, despite the Republican Party’s traditional light-touch approach to antitrust. The FTC and DOJ’s approach is fueled by a view that conservative antitrust must not allow “private tyranny,” just as it is opposed to government tyranny.1 In particular, FTC Chairman Andrew Ferguson has applauded that “this administration . . . is rediscovering the wisdom of taking competition enforcement seriously.”2

In Europe, although there have been few new antitrust cases under the new European Commission, a number of ongoing cases are being pursued against the same firms, on similar timeframes and in relation to similar conduct. These cases have been supplemented by enforcement action under the DMA. Some of these cases might have different underlying motivations—with US authorities more concerned with the potential role of large technology firms in stifling plurality of voices online, and the EU more concerned with ensuring market contestability. But they nevertheless illustrate authorities’ common challenges, particularly how to design remedies for highly complex and fast-moving digital markets.

EU and US competition policies increasingly interact. For example, in a case brought by the US DOJ and some states against Google regarding its conduct in the search market, the DOJ sought an extensive list of potential remedies, including data-sharing rules that looked similar to obligations in the EU’s DMA. In September 2025, the district court decided to apply a narrower data-sharing remedy. A similar question about alignment of remedies will arise in the EU and US cases concerning Google’s digital advertising technologies.

However, challenges remain in coordinating antitrust actions on both sides of the Atlantic.

A first challenge is ensuring that the tenets of antitrust analysis remain synchronized. Protecting disruptive innovation in digital markets, for example, might require identifying robust theories of harm closer to market realities and moving away from reliance on static market definitions. However, the US legal system—in which the FTC and DOJ must convince a judge of their case—makes EU-US alignment difficult. Even if EU and US competition authorities agree on a common approach to a particular case, judges might take a different approach. In particular, competition cases in the United States go before generalist US judges, some of whom might be relatively conservative about government intervention. For example, European competition agencies are exploring how large firms can stymie disruptors by preventing their access to inputs to innovate or impacting their access to customers. They have used these concerns to rework the essential facilities doctrine and the tests for when discrimination is anticompetitive (with EU courts often sympathetic to their approaches, as in the Google Shopping and Android Auto cases).3 However, there is limited evidence that US courts are as willing to see principles evolve.

A second challenge is remedy design. Ex post antitrust remedies can have global impacts—for example, by raising costs of operating different business models in different countries, or by requiring structural changes to large firms or technical changes that cannot be implemented at a regional level. Conversely, for firms that can benefit from remedies, a consistent approach to remedy design in the EU and United States could lower costs and allow innovative firms to scale faster. Securing consistent approaches to remedies between the EU, the United States, and third countries such as the United Kingdom could therefore have widespread benefits. There is acceptance that past remedies in tech antitrust cases have sometimes not been very effective, and that innovation seems to have played more of a role than antitrust remedies in promoting competition in digital markets. Both sides seem to be learning from these past experiences, but they have adopted different lessons. The EU has sought to front-end tougher remedies in the DMA while, in the US Google Search case, the judge adopted a narrower set of remedies and instead put more faith in possibilities for AI to disrupt online search markets. Both European and US authorities can benefit from robust and transparent evaluations of past remedies, learning from successes and failures to design more effective interventions in the future.

Thirdly, the EU and United States also take different approaches to the merits of ex ante digital competition regulation. Europe’s DMA has few influential friends among the current US administration. Trump has implied he sees the law as an attack on “the growth or intended operation of United States companies,” and FTC Chair Andrew Ferguson has described the DMA as a “tax on American companies” and one which is “overly rigid,” despite most of the beneficiaries of the DMA being US firms.4 The EU’s objectives with the DMA were to foster a competitive and fair digital market, creating opportunities for challenger firms from both Europe and the United States, and supporting the West’s global technological leadership. From a European perspective, there is no appetite to rescind or water down the DMA; Commissioner Teresa Ribera has signaled the European Commission would take a “brave” approach to enforcement and has fined Apple and Meta for noncompliance.5 However, there is a widespread perception that the commission is tailoring its enforcement approach to reflect the current environment. For example, the Apple and Meta fines came only after the commission missed its own self-imposed deadlines, seemingly to avoid torpedoing EU-US trade talks.6

There is also a question of how European and US regulatory authorities can best cooperate and coordinate in practice, given the different timeframes and processes of their respective cases and concerns in the United States about Europe taking the lead on antitrust matters. Ferguson, for example, has argued, “If we think that Americans are suffering from anticompetitive conduct at home, we should address it here at home . . . I don’t want the Europeans doing it for us.”7 The EU and United States have a positive comity agreement, which allows one party affected by anticompetitive behavior originating in the other party to request that said party address the conduct. But this agreement has never been used in practice. Under the Trump presidency, the European Commission has shown a desire to allow the United States to take the lead. For example, in the Google AdTech case, the European Commission has found that Google breached competition law. However, the US federal court also considered remedies in its case regarding the same conduct. The commission has therefore delayed a final decision on remedies, stating that it wanted to “ensure that Google puts in place an effective remedy on both sides of the Atlantic . . . It is in everyone’s interest to achieve a joint outcome, including for Google itself, and for citizens worldwide.”8 While in principle such an approach might lead to harmonization, and would provide the EU with political cover, it poses the risk of delaying the imposition of remedies or encouraging the EU to accept remedies that might prove ineffective in the European context.

The broader political backdrop remains challenging. Trump has challenged the independence of numerous public authorities, including the FTC—and there is a risk of the president seeking to change the direction of US digital antitrust policy in the future. On the European side, while the EU secured a trade deal with the United States without needing to change its digital antitrust or digital regulation, the European Commission’s enforcement of the DMA and competition law—both procedurally and substantively—already appears to have been influenced by fears of triggering retaliation by the United States. It is difficult to see how the EU can adopt a rigorous and independent approach while remaining dependent on the United States for its security.

These challenges suggest several lessons for competition enforcers.

  • The European Commission and national competition authorities should continue cooperating with the US federal agencies and strengthen their cooperation with US state attorneys general, given their important role in US digital antitrust cases.
  • To effectively learn from each other’s experience with remedies, and to enhance mutual learning and correct remedies when needed, competition agencies in both the EU and the United States should have a robust evidence-based assessment of how their remedies have performed.
  • The European Commission needs to improve its communication strategy when pursuing antitrust cases. Antitrust enforcement must be closely linked to consumer welfare, competitiveness, and economic growth. Enhancing its legitimacy can help ensure European competition enforcers withstand any political pressure.
  • Europe needs to better highlight how open and competitive markets foster innovation instead of protection of national champions. Tools to open competition are therefore important ways to support US and European global technological leadership.

Merger policy and innovation

The discussion on antitrust enforcement naturally leads to questions about how merger policy can also protect innovation and competition in digital markets. Both EU and US approaches to competition policy are evolving to better tackle the role of innovation in digital markets. In particular, there is growing unease that competition authorities need to improve how they approach the impacts of a merger on innovation.

Reflecting these concerns, the United States updated its merger guidelines in 2023 after a two-year process. Merger guidelines are traditionally intended to describe the FTC and DOJ practices to the public, businesses, and courts—such as setting out important questions to which the agencies seek answers during the review process, including what type of evidence they are looking for and how that evidence is typically analyzed. However, the updated guidelines have been perceived by some as a more political document and a statement of the agencies’ intent to toughen merger policy, with more mergers likely to be presumed anticompetitive and the introduction of novel theories of harm. These guidelines remain in place for now, despite changes of leadership at the DOJ and FTC.9

The European Commission is still in the process of updating its merger guidelines, a process that it aims to finalize in 2027. Recently, both Mario Draghi and Commission President Ursula von den Leyen have pushed for the process to speed up. Much of the debate has centered on the importance of scale. Draghi’s report on European competitiveness—often interpreted as reigniting discussion about the merits of allowing EU firms to merge to create more innovative “European champions”—also proposed an innovation defense to allow mergers that would otherwise be prohibited. While some consider the report to be misunderstood, Draghi’s subsequent speeches have contributed to the perception that he is arguing for a loosening of merger policy. However, the extent to which new guidelines will (or can) represent a significant evolution in approach is unclear.

  • First, in Europe, different stakeholders have vastly different objectives when they argue that innovation (and other factors such as resilience) should play a bigger role in merger review. For enforcers, taking innovation into account might imply being able to intervene in more mergers; it is difficult to argue that EU merger policy has been too lax given that only a tiny proportion of mergers have ever been prohibited. For other stakeholders, the objective of giving innovation a stronger role in merger policy is to allow more deals. It is unclear how the guidelines can promote European champions while preventing foreign competitors from engaging in similar large-scale mergers.
  • Second, the recommendations in Draghi’s report are modest. His report has been understood to propose relaxing EU competition law constraints on mergers of major industrial companies. In fact, he acknowledges that a dominant firm would still be precluded from making use of the innovation defense, which would make it inapplicable in almost all cases in which a merger is blocked today. It would also be accompanied by strict safeguards and investment commitments by the merging parties. If Draghi’s proposal is adopted, there might not be much difference from today’s efficiency defense, which has never changed the outcome of a merger review process in Europe (though that might be, in part, because so few mergers are challenged in the first place or because the efficiency defenses have not been clearly articulated or sufficiently convincing). Therefore, there is a significant gap between some of the political rhetoric surrounding the review and the technical reality.
  • Third, the EU’s existing merger guidelines have already been superseded by changes in the commission’s practices, so the urgency of a new set of guidelines can be overstated. In reality, the guidelines should not be a statement of intent but, rather, a description of current practices and approaches. This means they might not fundamentally change case-specific analysis.
  • Fourth, it is difficult to see how changes in merger review alone will significantly alter the EU’s innovation trajectory. In the absence of further development of the single market, and greater availability of venture capital, highly innovative European firms will remain more likely to move to the United States or be acquired by foreign companies rather than remain European.

This might mean that—despite the call for a fundamental change in approach in Europe—the EU and the United States will stay relatively aligned.

One area in which divergence remains a risk is adopting predictable approaches to assessing the impact of a merger on capabilities and incentives to innovate, particularly in relation to disruptive innovation. Competition authorities have pursued theories of harm based on how a merger might impact innovation, even in the absence of immediate impacts on price or quality in particular markets. For example, innovation and innovative capabilities (or access to assets considered essential for innovations) featured heavily in cases such as Dow-DuPont, Amazon-iRobot, Facebook-Giphy (in the UK), and Google-FitBit. However, these cases have often (but not exclusively) focused on sustaining innovation rather than disruptive innovation. Where competition authorities have taken disruptive innovation into account (such as the UK authority in Facebook-Giphy) or examined markets for research and development (as the US and EU authorities did in the Illumina/Grail merger) they were highly criticized for making the results of merger reviews unpredictable.

Authorities will need to make decisions when the evolution of markets is not fully certain. An insistence on only acting when the anticompetitive outcome is undeniable will, on the whole, lead to less competition. On one hand, this suggests authorities should be humble. Sources of disruptive innovation are hard to identify beforehand, which suggests some firms might have more vulnerable positions than static markers of market power might imply. On the other hand, if authorities take the need to protect possibilities for disruptive innovation seriously, this might help illuminate previously under-identified types of anticompetitive effects, such as mergers that stymie potentially disruptive firms even if they appear to be in an unconnected market. This might require defining markets for innovation or focusing more on firms’ capabilities, their management practices, and their strategies in merger review.10 While the outcomes might not always be predictable, EU and US authorities could work together to try to ensure more transatlantic consistency when identifying the impact of a merger on innovation and incentives to innovate. This could increase certainty about the process and framework that competition authorities will adopt.

A second area of potential conflict is whether competition authorities should seek to promote certain types of innovation over others. In line with the Trump administration’s broader deregulatory approach, US competition authorities appear to be taking an agnostic and free-market approach to this question. In contrast, European authorities have emphasized how merger control can contribute to innovation in the area of sustainability and protect incentives for green innovation.11 This includes reflecting customer and government preferences for sustainable products when defining markets. For example, when the European Commission prohibited the Hyundai-Daewoo merger in 2022, it took into account the parties’ incentives to invest in lower-emission liquefied natural gas (LNG) vessels.

A third area of divergence risk relates to politicization of the merger process in both the EU and United States. More than ever, there is a perceived risk of US merger policy and practice being influenced by industry lobbying and top-down political influence. The lack of an institutionally independent competition regulator at the EU means this also remains a risk in Europe. Industry capture could happen at the level of guidelines—where there is a risk of helping today’s largest European companies rather than promoting the growth of disruptive and innovative firms—or on a case-by-case basis. There have been previous merger cases in which the formal technical analysis did not align well with the final decision reached. In this respect, updating the EU’s merger guidelines—by reducing the European Commission’s room for maneuver in response to political pressure—could provide significant cover for taking difficult decisions.

Lessons for merger review authorities include the following.

  • EU and US authorities should develop consistent guidelines setting out how they will assess the impacts of a merger on innovation capabilities (such as chips and computing power, skills, data, and risky and patient capital) and incentives to innovate. A pro-innovation merger control should promote the new innovators and not protect the old ones.
  • DG-Comp should aim to identify and adopt positive aspects of the revised US merger guidelines and US authorities’ recent practices to inform the EU’s current exercise of revising its own guidelines. For example, adopting the US approach by combining horizontal guidelines (which signal how a competition authority examines mergers between direct competitors) and vertical guidelines (which signal the approach to mergers between players at different points in the supply chain) would prove useful to ensure the European Commission thinks holistically about the impact of mergers on innovation, including in digital ecosystems in which horizontal and vertical concerns can be closely related. On the other hand, the EU guidelines still need to follow and reflect DG-COMP’s practices and should avoid becoming politically charged or signaling major changes to the EU approach.

As with antitrust remedies, competition authorities in both the EU and the United States must be honest and clear about how their merger remedies have performed, so different authorities can become better by learning from each other’s successes and mistakes. This will be especially important if there is increasing use of long-term investment commitments as a merger remedy (as in the UK with the Vodafone-O2 merger, and as recommended by Draghi). Such an approach can help ensure authorities across the Atlantic can work with each other. DG-COMP’s previous retrospective studies on remedies are an excellent starting point.

About the author

Zach Meyers is the director of research at the Centre on Regulation in Europe (CERRE). Previously the assistant director of the Centre on European Reform, Meyers has a recognized expertise in economic regulation and network industries such as telecoms, energy, payments, financial services and airports. In addition to advising in the private sector, with more than ten years’ experience as a competition and regulatory lawyer, he has consulted to governments, regulators, and multilateral institutions on competition reforms in regulated sectors.

This issue brief benefits from the insights of discussants at an online roundtable on EU-US regulatory co-operation hosted jointly by CERRE and the Atlantic Council. However, the contents of this brief are attributable only to the author.

About CERRE

Providing high-quality studies and dissemination activities, the Centre on Regulation in Europe (CERRE) is a not-for-profit think tank. It promotes robust and consistent regulation in Europe’s network, digital industry, and service sectors. CERRE’s members are regulatory authorities and companies operating in these sectors, as well as universities.

CERRE’s added value is based on

  • its original, multidisciplinary, and cross-sector approach covering a variety of markets (e.g., energy, mobility, sustainability, technology, media, and telecommunications);
  • the widely acknowledged academic credentials and policy experience of its research team and associated staff members;
  • its scientific independence and impartiality; and
  • the direct relevance and timeliness of its contributions to the policy and regulatory development process impacting network industry players and the markets for their goods and services.

CERRE’s activities include contributions to the development of norms, standards, and policy recommendations related to the regulation of service providers, to the specification of market rules, and to improvements in the management of infrastructure in a changing political, economic, technological, and social environment. CERRE’s work also aims to clarify the respective roles of market operators, governments, and regulatory authorities, as well as contribute to the enhancement of those organizations’ expertise in addressing regulatory issues of relevance to their activities.

About the Atlantic Council

The Atlantic Council promotes constructive leadership and engagement in international affairs based on the Atlantic community’s central role in meeting global challenges. The council provides an essential forum for navigating the dramatic economic and political changes defining the twenty-first century by informing and galvanizing its uniquely influential network of global leaders. The Atlantic Council—through the papers it publishes, the ideas it generates, the future leaders it develops, and the communities it builds—shapes policy choices and strategies to create a more free, secure, and prosperous world.

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1    “Assistant Attorney General Gail Slater Delivers First Antitrust Address at University of Notre Dame Law School,” US Department of Justice, April 28, 2025, https://www.justice.gov/opa/speech/assistant-attorney-general-gail-slater-delivers-first-antitrust-address-university-notre.
2    Andrew N Ferguson, “Competition in the 21st Century: Heeding the Rallying Cry for Deregulation,” US Federal Trade Commission, May 7, 2025, https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/chairman-ferguson-2025-icn-remarks.pdf.
3    “Judgment of the Court (Grand Chamber ) of 25 February 2025: Alphabet Inc. and Others v Autorità Garante della Concorrenza e del Mercato,” European Union, February 25, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=celex:62023CJ0233.
4    “Defending American Companies and Innovators From Overseas Extortion and Unfair Fines and Penalties,” White House, February 21, 2025, https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/02/defending-american-companies-and-innovators-from-overseas-extortion-and-unfair-fines-and-penalties/.
5    Francesca Micheletti, “Trump’s Antitrust Agency Chief Blasts EU Digital Rules as ‘Taxes on American Firms,’” Politico, April 2, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/trumps-antitrust-agency-chief-blasts-eu-digital-rules-as-taxes-on-american-firms/.
6    Francesca Micheletti and Jacob Parry, “Big Tech Fines Just Got Political, Whether the Commission Likes It or Not,” Politico, April 14, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/big-tech-fines-digital-markets-act-political-european-commission-meta-apple-donald-trump-tariffs/.
7    Micheletti, “Trump’s Antitrust Agency Chief Blasts EU Digital Rules as ‘Taxes on American Firms.’”
8    “Statement by Executive Vice-President Ribera on the Adoption of the Google Adtech Decision,” European Commission, September 4, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/statement_25_2034.
9    “Chairman Ferguson Memo re Merger Guidelines,” US Federal Trade Commission, February 18, 2025, https://www.ftc.gov/legal-library/browse/cases-proceedings/public-statements/chairman-ferguson-memo-re-merger-guidelines.
10    Giulio Federico, Fiona Scott Morton, and Carl Shapiro, “Antitrust and Innovation: Welcoming and Protecting Disruption,” Innovation Policy and the Economy (2019), https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/full/10.1086/705642?af=R; David J. Teece, Dynamic Capabilities and Strategic Management: Organizing for Innovation and Growth (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2009).
11    Catherine Ellwanger, et al., “EU Green Mergers & Acquisitions Deals—How Merger Control Contributes to a Sustainable Future,” Competition Merger Brief, September 2023, https://competition-policy.ec.europa.eu/system/files/2023-09/kdal23002enn_mergers_brief_2023_2.pdf.

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A stronger, safer, and more prosperous hemisphere: The case for investing in democracy in the Americas https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/a-stronger-safer-and-more-prosperous-hemisphere-the-case-for-investing-in-democracy-in-the-americas/ Thu, 04 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=891352 This issue brief is the fourth in the Freedom and Prosperity Center's "Future of democracy assistance" series, which analyzes the many complex challenges to democracy around the world—and highlights actionable policies that promote democratic governance.

The post A stronger, safer, and more prosperous hemisphere: The case for investing in democracy in the Americas appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Democratic backsliding, transnational organized crime, and authoritarian influence are driving insecurity and migration across Latin America and the Caribbean.
  • At the same time, weak rule of law and entrenched kleptocratic networks are stifling economic growth and enabling criminal organizations.
  • To push back, the US must shift to a broader investment-driven foreign policy that mobilizes public-private partnerships and supports democratic actors.

This issue brief is part of the Freedom and Prosperity Center’s “The future of democracy assistance” series, which analyzes the many complex challenges to democracy around the world and highlights actionable policies that promote democratic governance.

Introduction

After decades of democratic and economic progress, Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC) is now losing ground. Between 1995 and 2016, the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Indexes recorded steady gains—a more than eight-point rise in prosperity and a more than three-point rise in freedom—that lifted millions out of poverty, deepened the region’s integration into the global economy, and strengthened democratic institutions. Over the past decade, however, this momentum has stalled, and in many countries reversed. Across the region, insecurity has surged, authoritarianism has deepened, and corruption has stifled development, with consequences that reach far beyond its borders.

This reversal is fueling two interconnected crises reshaping the Western Hemisphere: migration and insecurity. Over the past decade, migration—both within the region and toward the United States—has surged. Authoritarian rule in Venezuela, Cuba, and Nicaragua, along with the collapse of Haiti, has driven mass exoduses, while gang violence spurs migration from Central America and hundreds of thousands more have left other countries in search of safety and economic opportunity. Transit states such as Colombia, the Dominican Republic, and Panama face mounting strain on public services, while the United States confronts unprecedented pressure at its southern border.

Regional security is also deteriorating as gangs and transnational criminal networks expand their operations. Mexican cartels dominate the production and trafficking of fentanyl, methamphetamine, cocaine, and other illicit drugs across Latin America and into the United States. The effects of their trade have been devastating, with tens of thousands of overdose deaths annually, particularly in the United States and Canada. Other groups, such as Venezuela’s Tren de Aragua, extend beyond narcotics, driving homicides, corruption, and violent competition over trafficking routes across the region.

Beneath these crises lies a deeper erosion of governance and democracy—one that the United States should support its allies in confronting. Weak rule of law and systemic corruption stifle economic growth and enable criminal networks to thrive. Authoritarian regimes in the region fuel migration, crime, and cross-border instability, while external powers—most notably China—exploit governance gaps through opaque infrastructure projects and debt diplomacy, deepening authoritarian influence. Together, these forces erode state capacity, destabilize the region, and pose a direct challenge to US security and economic prosperity.

Stable, transparent governance in LAC reduces migration pressures, disrupts criminal networks, and creates economic opportunities that benefit both US and Latin American citizens. As the United States reassesses its foreign assistance strategy, democracy assistance can be enacted as a strategic investment to make the hemisphere—including the United States—stronger, safer, and more prosperous. We identify three core issues that pose the greatest challenges but promise the greatest rewards if addressed, and provide recommendations to streamline assistance, expand its scope, and engage business and local actors as funders and partners.

Ultimately, democracy assistance in the region remains one of the most cost-effective investments to advance shared security and prosperity.

Regional challenges to democracy and governance

LAC is confronting a convergence of three interlinked challenges that erode governance, destabilize societies, and undermine US security and economic interests. Each reinforces the others and fuels the migration and crime that strain the region. The United States should therefore prioritize addressing these challenges through targeted foreign assistance and investment.

Transnational organized crime and insecurity

Transnational organized crime (TOC) has evolved into one of the most destabilizing forces in LAC. Once localized, criminal groups have grown into sophisticated, multinational networks that traffic drugs, weapons, and people across borders while infiltrating political systems. These networks now operate across nearly every corner of the region, both benefiting from and contributing to weak rule of law and institutional resilience.

Gangs and TOC actors are among the main drivers of insecurity in the region. Although the region comprises less than 10 percent of the world’s population, it accounts for roughly one-third of global homicides. Central America maintains high levels of insecurity, while countries such as Mexico, Ecuador, Colombia, and Peru have experienced sharp increases in violent crime as cartels and gangs battle for control of trafficking routes, urban neighborhoods, and illicit economies. The costs are profound: Latin American Public Opinion Project data show that intentions to emigrate are significantly higher among individuals exposed to crime, while nearly one-third of private sector firms in Latin America cite crime as a major obstacle to doing business, with direct losses averaging 7 percent of sales. Insecurity is not only displacing communities but also undermining prosperity and eroding trust in governments.

The drug trade remains one of the most profitable and damaging arms of TOC. Mexican cartels—particularly the Sinaloa Cartel and Jalisco New Generation Cartel—are the hemisphere’s principal suppliers of fentanyl, methamphetamine, cocaine, and heroin. Their operations extend beyond Mexico and the United States, reaching deep into Colombia, Ecuador, Central America, and increasingly Canada. In 2024, US Customs and Border Protection seized over 27,000 pounds of fentanyl at the southern border—up from 14,700 pounds in 2022. The human toll is staggering: Fentanyl overdoses now kill more than seventy thousand people annually in the United States.

TOC represents not only a law enforcement problem but also a profound institutional and governance challenge. These groups thrive in contexts marked by weak institutions, porous borders, and entrenched impunity. Venezuela’s institutional collapse, for example, directly enabled the rapid growth of the Tren de Aragua gang from one prison to over ten countries. Once established, criminal networks act as corrosive forces—penetrating police forces, judicial systems, militaries, local governments, and even segments of the private sector. Their influence extends into the electoral arena as well: In Mexico’s recent elections, criminal actors not only financed campaigns for local candidates but also threatened and assassinated others, further distorting political competition and undermining democratic accountability. Left unchecked, TOC erodes public trust, distorts markets, and makes effective governance nearly impossible, fueling a self-reinforcing cycle of violence, displacement, and state fragility.

Case study: Ecuador’s fight against insecurity

The once relatively stable country of Ecuador has become a battleground among Mexican drug trafficking organizations (DTOs) in recent years, with authorities estimating that 70 percent of the world’s cocaine passes through its ports. As Ecuador has emerged as a vital transit country, Mexican DTOs have partnered with local crime syndicates to deepen their control in the country, buying the influence of politicians, judges, and security officials. The main actors vying for control of drug shipment routes include the Sinaloa Cartel, its rival the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, and their affiliated local crime syndicates. These structures tax and protect cocaine flows moving from border regions toward export terminals, targeting trucking firms, port and warehouse staff, and local authorities.

Ecuador’s security crisis, however, is not simply a matter of state versus gangs, but of deep institutional infiltration. The landmark Metástasis investigation (2023-25) exposed how judges, prosecutors, police officers, politicians, a former head of the prison authority, and other high-ranking officials systematically protected or advanced the interests of organized crime for years. In exchange for cash, gold, luxury cars, and other benefits, officials allegedly released gang leaders, altered prison conditions, and sabotaged investigations.

Despite these challenges, Ecuador’s government—reelected in 2025 with a mandate to confront organized crime—has pledged to continue the fight. Yet its experience highlights a critical lesson: Defeating gangs and cartels cannot be achieved solely through crackdowns or arrests; it also requires rebuilding institutions.

In many countries, governments have proven unable or unwilling to meaningfully confront TOC. Others have stepped up efforts to target these groups through mano dura policies or intensified security operations that, while capable of disrupting trafficking routes, cannot by themselves dismantle transnational criminal networks. Addressing the governance gaps that allow these organizations to thrive is therefore crucial. In this context, US leadership remains essential. Given the cross-border nature of these networks, lasting, viable solutions demand a coordinated regional response. By leveraging its diplomatic influence, security partnerships, military capabilities, and development tools—including technical assistance, institutional support, and investment incentives—the United States can help foster cross-border cooperation, strengthen judicial and prosecutorial capacity, and reinforce institutions to shield them from criminal infiltration. Paired with diplomatic and intelligence support, democracy assistance can play a critical role in disrupting organized crime, safeguarding US security interests, and creating the conditions for more prosperous and resilient communities across the hemisphere.

Rule of law and economic development

Declining rule of law has become an increasingly urgent concern in LAC, as regional indicators have steadily worsened in recent years and several countries have registered some of the steepest declines worldwide. This deterioration both enables transnational organized crime and authoritarianism and imposes enormous costs on national economies. Research by the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center shows that the rule of law is the single most influential factor for long-term economic growth and societal well-being. Liberalizing markets is not enough: Legal clarity, judicial independence, and accountability are the foundations of effective governance and thriving economies. This is particularly relevant in Latin America, where corruption remains the region’s Achilles’ heel—undermining public spending, fueling fiscal deficits, and weakening financial oversight. Across the region, higher corruption levels are consistently associated with lower gross domestic product per capita and reduced foreign direct investment, costing countries and investors billions in lost growth and opportunity

A particularly distorting force in the region’s economy is the prevalence of kleptocratic networks. These are not isolated acts of graft, but coordinated, systematic efforts to capture state resources and extract rents for political and economic gain. Such networks often comprise coalitions of corrupt political elites, complicit business actors, and criminal organizations. They co-opt the judiciary and prosecutors, while silencing investigations and oversight bodies. Their actions stifle competition, discourage entrepreneurship, and produce unfair monopolies that sideline foreign investors, while draining public coffers of resources needed for development.

The scale of these operations can be staggering. In Venezuela, over the past two decades, ruling party figures and business allies have been suspected of siphoning off as much as $30 billion in public funds through transnational schemes involving front companies, illicit contracts, and offshore accounts. This systemic kleptocracy has not only enriched elites but also accelerated Venezuela’s economic collapse, fueling one of the worst migration crises in the region, including to the United States. In Peru, the Club de la Construcción scandal revealed how an informal cartel of major construction companies colluded to divide up public works contracts in exchange for bribes to officials in the Ministry of Transport and Communications. The scheme operated for more than a decade, was worth billions in inflated contracts, and sidelined honest competitors while draining infrastructure budgets.

Case study: The Dominican Republic’s success story

The Dominican Republic illustrates how strengthening the rule of law can improve governance and unlock economic opportunity. Since President Luis Abinader took office in 2020, the government has carried out anti-corruption reforms. The administration appointed an independent attorney general and empowered the public ministry to investigate and prosecute high-level corruption cases. The government has also advanced transparency and digitalization reforms to make interactions with public agencies—especially in procurement—more open, efficient, and resistant to abuse. In addition, the country has aligned with key recommendations from the Financial Action Task Force, including by passing a revamped Anti-money Laundering and Illicit Finance Law, which has constrained kleptocratic networks and organized crime.

These measures have begun to restore trust in public institutions. Procurement processes are now more transparent and competitive––with twenty thousand new suppliers registered—while new safeguards better protect against corruption. Since 2020, the Dominican Republic’s score on Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index has improved by eight points. Investor confidence has followed: Foreign direct investment reached record highs in 2024, while trade with the United States expanded sharply. US goods exports to the Dominican Republic grew to $13 billion that year, producing a $5.5 billion trade surplus for the United States.

Some of the region’s largest corruption scandals have been uncovered by investigative journalists and independent prosecutors. Yet in many cases, impunity prevails, and little progress is made toward prevention or sustained accountability. Strong judicial institutions, effective anti-corruption reforms, and governance are essential for stability and growth. Predictable, rules-based environments make countries far better partners for both domestic and US businesses—creating jobs, expanding markets, and strengthening local economies. Such efforts can also reduce migration pressures, as corruption has been shown to drive both legal and irregular migration. As with TOC, for the United States, supporting rule-of-law reforms is therefore a strategic investment in building a more prosperous, democratic, and secure hemisphere.

Countering authoritarian influence

LAC is home to several resilient democracies that remain close US allies and important trading partners. Yet the region also contains some of the world’s most entrenched dictatorships—Cuba, Venezuela, and Nicaragua—which pose direct threats to stability. Between these extremes lie eight nations that Freedom House classifies as “partly free,” many of which experienced additional democratic declines in 2025. Countering democratic backsliding and protecting the global order is not a values-based mission; it is essential to safeguarding US security, economic interests, and the long-term prosperity of the Western Hemisphere.

The region’s authoritarian regimes illustrate the stakes. Economic collapse and repression have forced 7.7 million Venezuelans, 500,000 Cubans, and tens of thousands of Nicaraguans to flee over the past decade. These governments also generate acute security risks. Nicaragua has positioned itself as a conduit for extra-regional migration, inviting travelers from Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean to enter visa free and transit toward the US border. The Daniel Ortega regime has further been linked to targeted harassment and even assassinations of dissidents abroad, including the 2025 killing in Costa Rica of Roberto Samcam Ruiz, a retired Army major and government critic.

Similarly, the consolidation of Venezuela’s dictatorship has transformed the country into a hub for criminal organizations, including Colombian paramilitary groups and Tren de Aragua. The Nicolás Maduro regime has hosted the Wagner Group while continuing to rely on Russian military advisors, Iranian oil technicians, and Chinese surveillance systems to tighten internal control and repress dissent. Members of the regime have been linked to drug trafficking––most notably through the illicit military network Cartel de los Soles––and, in late 2024, Maduro threatened to invade neighboring Guyana.

At the same time, external authoritarian powers—especially China—are expanding their footprints, particularly in “partly free” states where institutional checks are weak. China exploits governance gaps through surveillance technology, opaque infrastructure deals, and strategic investments in critical sectors—often at the expense of US influence and market access. Over the past decade, China invested $73 billion in Latin America’s raw materials sector, including refineries and processing plants for coal, lithium, copper, natural gas, oil, and uranium. In Peru, Chinese firms paid $3 billion to acquire two major electricity suppliers, giving them what experts describe as near-monopoly control over the country’s power distribution and edging out competitors. Beijing also provides critical technology to regional authoritarian governments and at-risk democracies. In Bolivia, the government deployed Huawei’s “Safe Cities” surveillance systems, raising concerns about mass data collection, particularly during elections.

Case study: The cost of partnering with authoritarian regimes

Under President Rafael Correa, Ecuador—alongside Bolivia’s Evo Morales and Venezuela’s Hugo Chávez—pursued closer ties with foreign authoritarian powers, betting heavily on Chinese financing and infrastructure. A centerpiece of this strategy was the $2.7 billion Coca Codo Sinclair hydroelectric project, awarded under opaque terms to Chinese firms, primarily Sinohydro, as part of an $11 billion package of oil-backed loans and infrastructure deals.

The project soon became a symbol of the risks of such arrangements. The dam has been plagued by structural flaws, including more than seventeen thousand cracks, severe environmental damage, and corruption allegations implicating senior officials. State agencies attempted to downplay or conceal the problems, but by 2024 the facility had ceased functioning altogether. Experts estimated that repairing the damage could cost tens of millions of dollars, erasing much of the project’s intended economic benefit. Beyond its technical failures, Coca Codo Sinclair left Ecuador financially vulnerable. In 2022, the government was forced into arbitration and subsequently renegotiated more than $4 billion in debt with Beijing, further compromising its fiscal position and weakening investor confidence. The episode illustrates how opaque partnerships with authoritarian powers can undermine democratic accountability and damage economic stability.

These developments underscore the importance of countering authoritarianism in LAC as both a security and economic priority for the United States and the region. Betting on democratic renewal in Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela is critical to restoring stability in the hemisphere. At the same time, it is equally important to strengthen “at-risk” democracies to prevent further backsliding. Targeted investments in political party development, anti-corruption reforms, and transparency measures can bolster resilience in these states and reduce the appeal of authoritarian alternatives. Pushing back against China’s growing economic and geopolitical influence in the hemisphere is also essential. By leveraging diplomatic and trade tools, the United States can position itself as a credible alternative to China—particularly by mobilizing investment, fostering public-private partnerships, and advancing governance reforms that strengthen transparency and accountability. Doing so is vital for freedom and security in the region and creates opportunities for business and investment.

Recommendations

Insecurity, weak rule of law, and authoritarianism represent growing threats to freedom and prosperity in the Western Hemisphere. As outlined above, TOC, entrenched corruption, and authoritarian regimes impose heavy economic costs on LAC and undermine democratic governance. At the same time, these forces drive mass migration, placing immense strain on transit and destination countries. Tackling these challenges is a strategic win-win: It can enhance US security and economic interests while advancing stability and prosperity in the region.

As the United States reassesses its foreign policy and democracy assistance strategy in LAC, it should make use of its full range of diplomatic, security, trade, and investment mechanisms—including targeted democracy assistance—to address these challenges.

Move beyond grants to expand the toolkit

The proposed shift toward an investment- and trade-driven foreign policy can go hand-in-hand with democracy assistance and reform. The United States can mobilize financial and diplomatic tools to expand investment as an alternative to Chinese influence, while incentivizing governance, transparency, and accountability reforms that strengthen the region’s resilience against the challenges outlined above.

  • Leverage the US International Development Finance Corporation (DFC) to provide an alternative to Chinese financing and invest in projects that strengthen democratic resilience through economic modernization, digitalization, and high-quality infrastructure—particularly in areas vulnerable to authoritarian influence. As Congress prepares to revisit the DFC’s authorizing legislation, it should ensure the agency has long-term funding to deploy its range of tools—including debt financing, equity investments, and political risk insurance—across the region.
  • Work with Congress to pass the Americas Act to establish regional trade, investment, and people-to-people partnerships with like-minded nations, fostering long-term private sector development. Use this framework to advance transparency and institutional autonomy reforms—particularly through the proposed Americas Institute for Digital Governance and Transnational Criminal Investigative Units—to ensure partner countries strengthen anti-corruption prevention, detection, and prosecution.
  • Use regional forums—such as the Summit of the Americas—to advocate for governance, security, transparency, and accountability reforms to strengthen the resilience of democratic allies and counter authoritarian regimes. The United States should link political reform benchmarks to investment incentives, offering “carrots” for change through regional development commitments.

Ensure democracy assistance makes business sense

A safer and more democratic Western Hemisphere directly benefits economic development and business. The United States should position its domestic and the Latin American private sectors as active partners in strengthening democratic resilience, not just as passive beneficiaries of stability.

  • Revive and operationalize America Creceto incentivize and promote reform-linked investments, infrastructure projects, and job creation across the region to counter Chinese influence and advance US interests while bolstering political will through the DFC. Participation should be tied to clear benchmarks on transparency, labor rights, and legal predictability.
  • Forge public-private partnerships that co-finance civic education, anti-corruption initiatives, and local development projects, particularly in high-risk areas vulnerable to TOC recruitment and migration.
  • Mobilize Latin America’s business elites—among the greatest beneficiaries of economic and democratic collaboration with the United States—to push for and co-fund democracy and governance programs in their home countries. Leading companies, philanthropic foundations, and chambers of commerce should be engaged as active partners in advancing reforms.
  • Strengthen and engage with regional initiatives like the Alliance for Development in Democracy—championed by Costa Rica, Panama, the Dominican Republic, and Ecuador—that integrate the private sector into democratic reform and good governance agendas.

Deploy whole-of-government tools

While the State Department plays a central role in US democracy assistance, the scale and interconnected nature of the region’s challenges—spanning security, rule of law, and authoritarian influence—demand a coordinated, whole-of-government approach.

  • Leverage the Pentagon’s Defense Institution Building program to strengthen law enforcement reform, bolster rule-of-law resilience, and build institutional capacity to counter transnational crime and human trafficking.
  • Provide technical assistance and legal expertise through the Department of Justice, Drug Enforcement Administration, and Bureau of International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs to help countries develop national frameworks that protect transparency, law enforcement, and sovereignty in investment decisions.
  • Double down on rule-of-law reforms and projects, particularly those targeting organized crime and corruption. Support vetted law enforcement units, independent anti-corruption actors, and judicial reform initiatives through US, private sector, and multilateral funding channels, including the Organization of American States, the Inter-American Development Bank, and the Open Government Partnership.
  • Protect the key pillars of democratic institutions from co-optation by TOC, kleptocratic, or authoritarian actors. This must include courts, election management bodies, political parties, and critical government agencies such as those overseeing infrastructure, development, procurement, and public prosecution. Emphasis should be placed on institutional independence, combating and preventing corruption, and ensuring sustainable financing to strengthen resilience.
  • Apply targeted sanctions, Global Magnitsky measures, and trade conditionality to dismantle kleptocratic networks, prosecute corrupt actors, and reward credible reformers.
  • Advocate for and support the implementation of global security and anti-corruption standards—including recommendations from the Financial Action Task Force and its LAC branch, GAFILAT (Grupo de Acción Financiera de Latinoamérica), on money laundering, organized crime, and illicit finance—to disrupt TOC and kleptocratic funding networks while fostering safer and more competitive business environments.

Scale the power of local networks

Regional local actors—both within and outside of government—are often the most credible and resilient defenders of democratic governance. The United States should deepen its engagement with these networks while identifying and empowering new partners.

  • Partner with trusted community institutions—including religious organizations, civic leaders, businesses, and grassroots groups—on programs that prevent gang recruitment, reduce crime, and promote integrity in high-risk areas.
  • Strengthen governance mechanisms to build sustainable local capacity to counter corruption and transnational organized crime.
  • Expand the partner ecosystem to include diaspora networks and local community groups, leveraging their resources, expertise, and transnational connections to reinforce democratic resilience.

Push back on regional and external authoritarian influence

Bipartisan US support for organized opposition in Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela has been a cornerstone of regional democracy policy and should be sustained and expanded. At the same time, Washington should back democratic movements and reformers across the hemisphere where authoritarian influence is taking hold.

  • Sustain support for dissidents and democratic movements in Cuba, Nicaragua, and Venezuela to prepare the ground for eventual political transitions.
  • Invest in independent media.
  • Support the next generation of democratic leaders through fellowships, trainings, and political party development, prioritizing authoritarian and high-risk states.
  • Collaborate with electoral commissions, legislatures, and political parties with an emphasis on internal democracy, campaign transparency, and long-term institutionalization.
  • Assist governments in auditing and renegotiating opaque infrastructure or digital agreements—particularly those with authoritarian powers—that undermine sovereignty, transparency, and public accountability.

The recommendations offered here provide a roadmap to confront the region’s most pressing security and prosperity threats by pairing diplomacy, trade, and investment tools with targeted democracy support. By leveraging the United States’ entrepreneurial capacity and its ability to mobilize multinational and public-private partnerships, reforms can be made more attractive, sustainable, and impactful. This is not charity—it is a strategic investment that advances both US and LAC interests.

At relatively low cost, democracy assistance strengthens governance and open markets in ways that directly serve US security and economic priorities. It helps dismantle transnational criminal organizations, kleptocratic networks, and corruption, while countering the growing influence of authoritarian regimes inside and outside the region. These efforts reduce the flow of illicit drugs and irregular migration, create more reliable markets for businesses, and build stronger partnerships with governments that share democratic values. The outcome is clear: a stronger, safer, and more prosperous hemisphere.

about the authors

Antonio Garrastazu serves as the senior director for Latin America and the Caribbean at the International Republican Institute (IRI). Prior to this role, he led IRI’s Center for Global Impact and from 2011 to 2018 was resident country director for Central America, Haiti, and Mexico. Garrastazu has worked in academe, the private sector, and government, serving in the Florida Office of Tourism, Trade and Economic Development under Governor Jeb Bush. He holds a bachelor’s degree in political science from the University of Florida, and a master’s and PhD in international studies from the University of Miami. 

Henrique Arevalo Poincot is a visiting fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Freedom and Prosperity Center. A strategy and communications specialist with expertise spanning Europe and Latin America, Arevalo Poincot is pursuing his master’s degree in democracy and governance at Georgetown University.

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Cloudbusting: Policy for evaluating trust in compute infrastructure https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/cloudbusting-policy-for-evaluating-trust-in-compute-infrastructure/ Wed, 03 Dec 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=890037 A global cloud built on technical assurances—not geography—is essential to securing critical infrastructure and the future of AI.

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Table of contents

Executive summary

Placing trust in cloud computing is no longer optional. Cloud computing is essential to critical infrastructure, commercial, and government operations.1 Outages over the past few months emphasize the vitality of cloud services to modern economies and essential government services.2 As cloud adoption and transformation continue, policy attention should shift from the question of whether to simply trust cloud computing to the methods for establishing and verifying that trust.  

The stakes will only continue to increase as artificial intelligence systems, which have been identified by the US, China, and the European Union as essential national priorities, continue to utilize cloud infrastructure for development and deployment.3 Sophisticated and unsophisticated threat actors continue to target cloud computing systems, striking rapidly, globally, and opportunistically. 4 These cloud incidents can result in data theft, financial losses, and operational disruptions. Even accidents require rapid coordination and information sharing to ensure systems can get back up and running as quickly as possible.5

Ensuring trust in cloud computing systems between nations and cloud providers is an essential task for modern economies, national security, and ways of life. This report argues that cloud trust will require collaboration between providers, nation states, and customers, but should not start with location requirements and geographic restrictions on access to cloud computing. Instead, national cloud policies should prioritize criteria of trust that verifiably and meaningfully improve the security of customer cloud operations. 

Introduction

As a component of artificial intelligence deployment, development, and use, as well as an enabling technology for business, government, and critical infrastructure functions, cloud computing is a fixture of cyber policy discussions. Within the emerging AI supply chain, cloud services are the means of deploying ‘compute’, a critical resource powering models in both training and inference throughout the global economy.6 This paper aims to offer a nuanced discussion of cloud computing through the consolidation of a shared policy vocabulary and common technical principles to describe and understand trust in cloud computing. By adding detail to how cloud computing is portrayed, policymakers can more effectively understand the systems they’re expected to trust. By adding granularity to existing discussions of cloud computing, policymakers can more effectively understand the systems they are expected to trust and better appreciate how policy shapes both those systems and that trust.  

Attackers continuously scan public-facing devices and infrastructure for misconfigurations and weaknesses.7 Countries with advanced cyber capabilities, including Russia, China, North Korea, and Iran, show no signs of ceasing cyber threat activity.8 The pace of vulnerability exploitation continues to accelerate, and within days of their public disclosure, attackers weaponize vulnerabilities to gain access to and exploit cloud environments.9 Meanwhile, policy debates often focus on limiting access from cloud providers to customer information, instead of ensuring the security of such resources and information from adversary access. 

Developing a more compelling model and framework for trust in cloud computing requires bridging debates around localization, digital sovereignty, and technical security, as well as emerging trends in artificial intelligence development and deployment. The risks posed to the cloud ecosystem by the unintended consequences of policy intervention are significant, but so too are the consequences of untrusted and insecure cloud deployments. 

A shared cloud computing vocabulary 

This section will establish essential vocabulary and terms for cloud computing. The terms and characteristics defined here are non-exhaustive but are a useful starting point for cloud policy discussions. Cloud computing describes a model where service providers offer metered, on-demand access to computing resources.10 Instead of operating their own servers and facilities, customers specify workloads—sets of defined computing tasks, utilizing computing resources—for which cloud providers handle implementation and execution.11 Sometimes the resources used by these workloads are virtual versions of physical resources (“virtual machines” or VMs), but often they are abstract resources or functions, such as data storage or analysis services, and are not rooted in or wedded to specific hardware or software implementations. Cloud providers must manage and architect both individual hardware and software components and the protocols, pathways, and constraints of their communications and interactions. To ensure visibility and reliability, cloud providers must build systems that carefully manage changes, catch and alert on outages, and gracefully handle errors or failures. This model of access to computing resources includes general access to applications and data storage, but also specialized services for specific customers or sectors. 

Cloud providers aggregate and distribute workloads across computing resources. Centralized control over the design, development, testing, and maintenance of both hardware and software enables cloud providers to reduce costs while optimizing their services for the performance and reliability needs of customers.12 End-to-end control over cloud systems also allows costly experimentation with specially-tailored or developed software and hardware, including custom advanced semiconductors (chips, silicon).13 Prominent cloud providers, including Microsoft, Google, and Amazon, derive advantages from both the scale of their cloud infrastructure and their expertise in adjacent fields and product offerings (earning them the name hyperscalers”).14 For example, Google’s development of its distributed data storage and processing platform BigTable was driven by the computing demands of its search product.15 Embedded within the configurations and offerings available to customers are a cascading sequence of impactful decisions made by cloud service providers. Balancing incentives, imperatives, and resource constraints creates an ever-evolving system of systems that is more than the sum of its parts. 

Customers of cloud providers can adjust their use of computing resources elastically. Instead of purchasing physical hardware, launching software, and monitoring it directly for power outages or reliability issues, customers can outsource those responsibilities to cloud providers. This allows companies to focus on their unique products and services instead of monitoring and maintaining networking, energy, and processing equipment. Decomposing workloads into discrete tasks, scheduling tasks for individual hardware components, and monitoring the execution of those tasks for errors, delays, or hardware failures requires carefully optimized software, specific hardware, and dedicated research capabilities.16 Within nano- or milliseconds, cloud computing systems communicate and synchronize across oceans and continents, ensuring availability and reliability despite frequent outages, hardware failures, and natural disasters. Using metered, elastic cloud services also allows companies to “scale” their computing resource footprint in response to demand.17 Seasonal surges, such as a boom in visits to e-commerce sites around the holiday season, or daily and weekly patterns, such as workplace software peaking in use during business hours Monday-Friday, no longer require projections months ahead of time, and the build-up of infrastructure to handle maximum demand, which then sits idle outside of specific moments. Instead, enterprises can dynamically and automatically adjust their use of computing resources and services through their cloud providers.18 At the global scale of modern cloud systems, cloud providers triage and respond to issues that would be completely unfamiliar to self-hosted cloud operators accustomed to handling only hundreds or thousands of servers.  

Cloud customers and providers optimize the architecture of services to support different computational demands, using distinct technology configurations to execute workloads. Cloud computing architectures dictate “how various cloud technology components, such as hardware, virtual resources, software capabilities, and virtual network systems interact and connect to create cloud computing environments.”19 Workloads such as high-definition video streaming, training AI models, and analyzing and extracting information from data have different requirements for synchronicity, availability, reliability, and error tolerance, which demand different choices of software and hardware to balance tradeoffs. By optimizing cloud infrastructure and systems for different tasks, cloud providers can utilize heterogeneous components to their full relative advantages.  

As an example, to ensure rapid access to cloud resources, providers maintain and offer content delivery networks (CDNs)—networks of servers and computing resources distributed worldwide to minimize the distance and latency (time delay) between cloud infrastructure and end-users.20 Cloud providers also maintain points of presence, or edge locations, where their infrastructure connects with internet service providers, on-premise customers, or other cloud providers.21 These points of connection include Internet Exchange Points (IXPs) and other co-location services, a subset of which are sometimes referred to as peering locations.22 Network infrastructure, including edge servers, is a critical vantage point for information useful for security monitoring and incident response. Security practices involving network infrastructure range from mitigating attacks that attempt to overwhelm servers with large amounts of requests to limiting unauthorized access to data and cloud resources.23

Cloud computing and artificial intelligence 

Cloud computing is involved in AI development and deployment at every stage, from providing data storage and structures to enabling interactions between models and users, all while serving as a central hub of monitoring and evaluation for AI systems. Artificial intelligence companies have close financial and technical relationships with hyperscale cloud providers, and cloud providers themselves develop their own AI models and integrate them with other products. This section will give a brief overview of the importance of cloud computing to artificial intelligence development and deployment as a component of the broader compute infrastructure used in the development and deployment of AI systems. 

Emerging players, sometimes referred to as neo-clouds, also offer cloud computing services specific to artificial intelligence workloads. CoreWeave, Lambda, Crusoe, and Nebius all operate under this model.24 These companies are financially intertwined with both existing hyperscale cloud providers and key chipmaker NVIDIA. NVIDIA has invested in both Lambda and CoreWeave, in addition to its own quasi-cloud offering, which is built on the infrastructure of other cloud service providers.25 Oracle has contracted Crusoe to build out compute offerings for OpenAI as part of the Stargate project.26 Microsoft was responsible for 62 percent of CoreWeave’s 2024 revenue, while Google recently inked a deal to use CoreWeave to deliver computing resources to OpenAI.27 These interactions and overlaps all complicate the cloud ecosystem, creating new, interdependent players and novel connections among long-established entities. These new relationships could complicate existing patterns of information sharing and incident response practices, while emerging players have yet to establish long-term track records of security and reliability.  

Hyperscale cloud providers have also invested extensive resources in creating and expanding cloud offerings to support AI workloads and to provide access to AI models for their customers within cloud offerings. Examples include AWS’s managed container offerings, which Anthropic uses to execute training and inference workloads at “ultra” scale, as well as tailoring of existing services, plugins, monitoring agents, credentials, and caching features.28 AWS’s Bedrock offering provides access to several models, including Anthropic’s.29 Microsoft’s Azure managed cloud offerings monitor, orchestrate, and execute AI workloads, including inference for OpenAI’s models.30 Google Cloud’s Cloud TPU platform includes a compiler, managed software frameworks, and custom chips designed to accelerate AI workloads and is used both internally at Google and by companies like Cohere, Stability AI, and Character AI.31

Scarcity or lack of access to key computing resources specific to artificial intelligence could also drive customers to overlook security requirements, focusing instead on rapid access to essential computing power. The increasing compute demands of AI firms and the growth of niche cloud computing service companies, both intertwined with hyperscale cloud providers, will continue to strain existing compute resources such that cloud computing policy interventions run a growing risk of compromising a fragile ecosystem.  

Policymaking in this sector has largely focused on advanced semiconductors, particularly NVIDIA GPUs, as the principal component of AI compute, from the Biden administration’s AI diffusion rule to the Trump administration’s AI Action Plan.32  Proposals have also examined the challenges of securing model weights, managing the flow of advanced semiconductors used in AI training development, and acquiring energy and land needed to construct datacenters.33  

However, limited attention has focused on the risks and opportunities of cloud computing’s role in AI development and deployment, and as an essential component of the AI supply chain itself. Efforts to secure the cloud computing ecosystem can protect sensitive intellectual property involved in AI development in deployment, including model weights and proprietary details of both AI use and research methods and practices used to develop frontier AI models. Conversely, policies and security practices that hamper efforts to secure cloud computing infrastructure could jeopardize the security of AI development and deployment.  

Building trust

Trust, in this paper, refers to both the ability of cloud customers to ensure that their cloud configurations are secure from external threats and from excessive interference or access from cloud providers themselves. Quickly verifying trustworthiness after a violation is paramount for customers wanting to keep up with attackers. This section will discuss the challenge of establishing trust in cloud computing systems. Miscommunication and misalignment regarding trust have immediate consequences for cloud customers, who often bear the costs of security incidents. 

Threat intelligence from cloud security firms suggests that the pace of incidents is increasing, with a 2024 Google Cloud report finding only five days of average observed time between the disclosure and exploitation of vulnerabilities, down from 32 days in 2023.34 Another 2023 report from Orca Security found that it took only two minutes for AWS encryption keys that were publicly exposed on GitHub to be used by threat actors.35 Sophisticated attackers have targeted companies, such as Cloudflare, that specialize in cloud network infrastructure, stealing credentials to access documentation and source code.36 Advisories from cybersecurity companies and intelligence agencies indicate that organizations persistently experience breaches from sophisticated, nation-state-sponsored threat actors who utilize publicly known vulnerabilities as part of a global espionage strategy.37 Meanwhile, trust deficits that result from customers’ lack of trust in cloud providers, or an inability by cloud providers to verifiably demonstrate trustworthiness, hamper both the adoption of cloud capabilities and the ability of organizations to prevent and respond to security incidents. When trust criteria are insufficient or incomplete, preventable incidents can occur at breathtaking speed.  

In policy contexts, trust frequently centers on an entity-based definition. The National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) notes that trust is “a belief that an entity meets certain expectations and therefore, can be relied upon.”38 A focus on entities can lead to technology policies focused on static, easily verifiable attributes, such as the national origin or corporate headquarters of cloud providers, from which policymakers derive restrictions on specific firms or sweeping prohibitions against foreign entities. This dynamic is not exclusive to cloud computing policy and has occurred throughout national security debates over trusted technology, from Kaspersky to Huawei.39 While organizational attributes can provide useful information, requirements exclusively based on entity-based definitions of trust can overlook technical security measures and implementation details that directly affect system trustworthiness, while incentivizing the use of proxy companies and circuitous legal setups.  

Technical communities have developed alternative approaches to trust that emphasize continuous verification instead of static, binary decisions to trust or not trust a technology provider. The zero-trust security model operates on “the premise that trust is never granted implicitly but must be continually evaluated,” according to NIST.40 This model is a shift from a perimeter-based security strategy toward contextually securing and restricting access to dynamic computing resources and assets.41 As an illustrative example, a zero-trust approach would reflect a company’s decision to shift from a sign-in system to enter a building, after which each person would have complete access to move around a building, to an approach where each room or floor requires a special key that only certain people can access, regardless of whether or not the person requesting access is already within the building. However, zero-trust is more of a broad set of principles than a set of specific operational requirements and might not align with existing organizational structures and regulatory frameworks that mandate perimeter-based security approaches. 

Cryptographic and hardware-based verification mechanisms offer another path through technical, not organizational, assurances. Trusted Execution Environments (TEEs) and confidential computing could enable remote attestation of the integrity and confidentiality of data and code.42 Remote attestation and technical assurances can establish trust outside of organizational attributes but require specialized hardware and software implementations that are not currently widely available or cost-effective.43 

These divergent approaches to trust create challenges for cloud providers and customers. A coherent, cohesive approach to cloud trust must bridge different methods while accounting for the scale and complexity of cloud computing. This requires moving beyond simple analogies and one-size-fits-all policies towards frameworks that thoughtfully weigh technical and organizational attributes. The alternative is a fragmented system in which policies undermine the economic and technical benefits of cloud computing without improving security. The costs of insecurity will only grow as the cloud becomes more entwined with AI applications, making the question of ensuring trust in cloud computing increasingly critical. 

Digital sovereignty and data localization

This paper’s focus is on digital sovereignty policies that target cloud infrastructure, such as the promotion of national or local alternatives to cloud providers, the exclusion of foreign cloud providers from specific certifications or sectors, or restrictions on the structure and configuration of cloud deployments within national borders.44 This section will ground this paper’s discussion of trust and security in cloud computing and infrastructure within a contemporary policy debate: the application of digital sovereignty and data localization restrictions to cloud computing.45

In many cases, companies that qualify as hyperscalers also offer search engines, operating systems, social media sites, and ad platforms, which could also be relevant to digital sovereignty debates. Those offerings remain outside of the scope of this paper but could very well have implications for cloud computing if remedies or policies aimed at achieving digital sovereignty goals impacted hyperscale providers and their cloud offerings. 

There are at least three essential characteristics of digital sovereignty and data localization policies with direct implications for cloud computing: the affected country or region, the scope of customers affected, and the criteria for cloud trust. In addition to descriptions, each characteristic will include illustrative examples.  

Table 1: Key characteristics for digital sovereignty policies affecting cloud computing systems

Geography

The first essential characteristic is the geographic region affected by a policy. Typical examples of cloud sovereignty or digital sovereignty policies apply at a national level and are set by a federal policymaking body. 

For example, the French SecNumCloud certification scheme, which includes localization requirements and restrictions on foreign ownership of cloud providers, is in effect within France.46 Attempts to extend sovereignty policies in certification requirements across the EU within the European Union Cybersecurity Certification Scheme for Cloud Services have been unsuccessful so far, facing opposition from Denmark, Estonia, Greece, Ireland, Lithuania, Poland, Sweden, and the Netherlands.47 Outside the EU, digital sovereignty policies appear to remain national in scope, which aligns with the focus of supporters of some digital sovereignty policies in ensuring government control over and visibility into cloud services.  

Scope

Another essential characteristic is the scope of customers or procurers of cloud services affected by digital sovereignty policies. Direct government use of cloud services or use by critical infrastructure sectors like finance and defense have been a focus of digital sovereignty policies. These policies can take the form of explicit bans or prohibitions on critical sector or government use of foreign cloud providers, procurement incentives for local companies, or technical requirements that in effect mandate country or sector-specific cloud configurations. 

Several countries and geographies have experimented with sovereignty and localization requirements specific to critical infrastructure sectors or government use. The Cross Border Data Forum’s 2021 data localization report highlighted requirements for exclusive localization of financial sector information and operations, such as transactions and banking information, in several countries, including South Africa, Turkey, and India.48 The aforementioned French SecNumCloud scheme applies to government agencies and “operators of national importance.”49 South Korea’s Cloud Security Assurance Program (CSAP) applies to public sector cloud use, but debates over its provisions have suggested it could be extended to additional sectors such as healthcare and education.50 

The sensitivity of government and critical infrastructure sector data and operations raises heightened concerns regarding the risks of unauthorized access to information or disruption of services. The sheer size of the government and critical infrastructure sectors’ cloud budgets also creates an appealing policy target, as including requirements or incentives within procurement regimes serves as an intermediary between economy-wide regulations and no regulation at all. Government and critical infrastructure criteria for cloud computing are often thought to induce effects outside of their direct targets, as other companies and organizations incorporate or reference criteria used by those entities in their own cloud procurement decisions.51

Criteria for trust

The final essential characteristic of digital sovereignty policies applying to cloud infrastructure is the criteria for trust that policies reference or create. Criteria of trust can include restrictions on nationality or operational jurisdictions of cloud providers, geographic locations of cloud infrastructure, or specific technical and operational measures, such as the use of encryption or external key management. These criteria can be directly put into force through legislation or through references to external certifications or standards bodies. 

Digital sovereignty policies often seek to ensure that cloud service providers have local physical footprints. Ensuring the physical footprint of a technology provider can create a toehold for further enforcement and oversight, clarifying the obligations of cloud providers to the citizens and laws of different countries. Without a clear presence in the form of personnel or physical infrastructure in a country, it is difficult for governments to enforce regulations or to substantively hold companies accountable for abuses or violations of policy. Russia and Vietnam both adopted policies requiring local offices and representatives for technology companies, which have been described as creating opportunities for government control and coercion.52 Incentives for local data center construction, such as Brazil’s proposed package of incentives and tax breaks for developers, can alternatively focus on the potential economic benefits of localized infrastructure, from collected taxes to construction and maintenance jobs.53

Other localization requirements seek to restrict the physical location of cloud infrastructure. Proponents of data localization argue that restricting the physical location of data, including prohibiting cross-border data transfers, provides security and privacy advantages. Countries around the world have adopted localization measures applicable to various sectors, types of data, or processing requirements. Localization measures mandate restricting operations to cloud infrastructure located within certain geographic boundaries. Often, this manifests as restricting the set of cloud “regions” that companies have access to, while cloud providers recommend structuring applications to span multiple regions and availability zones.“54  Availability zones are logically isolated segments of cloud infrastructure that attempt to ensure that if one zone suffers an outage, it does not take down other zones within the same region.55 However, region-wide disruptions such as October’s AWS DynamoDB incident in the us-east-1 region, while rare, have significant impacts on both customers relying on resources within a region and cloud service providers that operate within a specific region.56

Figure 1: Region and launch year

Restricting the flow of data and information can limit access to computing and processing resources, limiting the ability of cloud providers to surge capacity and geographically distribute workloads. The ability to migrate workloads and computing assets, such as data, to other countries is essential for effective disaster recovery, which could motivate carving out backups as exempt from data localization. In preparing for Russia’s invasion, for instance, Ukraine paused localization requirements and shifted essential government data to cloud infrastructure outside of its borders to ensure availability and access in the event of the physical destruction of domestic data centers.57 Estonia has also established a data embassy, which consists of an external private cloud region in Luxembourg to ensure continuity of government operations in the event of a crisis.58

Beyond infrastructure locations, countries and customers might seek to restrict the geographic location of technical support staff and engineers, especially individuals who might access or view sensitive data. Requirements can restrict physical location, citizenship, or clearance of support personnel, which can impact the staffing strategies, create challenges for around-the-clock availability, and require duplication of expertise across nations. According to ProPublica, Microsoft worked around such restrictions from the United States Defense Department by using support structures such as “digital escorts,” where individuals in possession of security clearances but lacking technical expertise supervised engineers, including engineers physically located in China, as they interacted with cloud systems used for national security purposes.59 The impulse towards workarounds for location-based restrictions, such as the digital escort system, which Microsoft has reportedly stopped using for the Department of Defense, demonstrates the operational difficulties restrictions on the location of support staff can create and the security risks that can result from the uneven implementation of location restrictions.60

Infrastructure localization approaches can also be designed to ensure that companies or governments have local oversight and control over security measures, including the use of encryption. Keeping encryption keys off cloud provider infrastructure, and instead on local or on-premise infrastructure, can be referred to as “key escrow” or “external key management.”61 Apple has historically complied with key localization requirements in China, while Google has implemented an offering designed for compliance with a requirement in Saudi Arabia.62  These offerings may be developed in partnership with local providers, who can oversee cloud provider access to encryption keys.63 However, this approach introduces distinct risks to cloud computing systems, as customers must trust the additional provider to secure encryption keys, which, if compromised, would provide access to sensitive data. Countries can also impose other requirements relating to encryption, such as country-specific standards. South Korea’s government cloud certification requires national standard encryption algorithms that are not widely used outside of Korea.64

In the US, debates on state-sponsored, proprietary encryption standards have resulted in concerns about the intelligence community creating “backdoors,” or exploitable flaws within encryption algorithms, which could be used by intelligence agencies and malicious actors to monitor communications and access content.65 Governments could also directly restrict the ability of cloud service providers to offer products with certain encryption standards or features. The UK’s secret law enforcement request to Apple to access certain encrypted communications led Apple to withdraw its Advanced Data Protection feature from the UK market rather than create a backdoor for authorities.66  Restrictions or constraints on encryption standards and encryption system architectures can give local authorities control over access to encrypted data, but can also create vulnerabilities if they result in compromising key local management systems or mandates for insecure encryption standards. 

The jurisdictions cloud providers originate from or operate within can be a source of concern for governments, especially when other governments mandate, incentivize, or promote practices that undermine the security of underlying technology systems. Digital sovereignty policies can aim to exclude specific cloud providers or providers from certain countries, either with outright bans or structural requirements mandating local partnerships. The approach of excluding specific countries, or restricting the access of companies from certain countries, is referred to as a blacklist, while a policy that only allows transfers to specified countries is referred to as a whitelist.67

The United States has typically taken a blacklist approach to national security reviews of foreign companies, imposing a smaller, ad-hoc set of limitations on companies’ jurisdictions and origins. For example, the US government has expressed skepticism over Chinese cloud providers’ access to American information, resulting in investigations of Alibaba’s cloud business.68 These concerns include Chinese policies requiring technology companies to notify the government when they discover technical vulnerabilities and extensive cooperate with defense and intelligence services.69  In reviews of other technical systems, such as telecommunications infrastructure, the US has weighed the national security risks of the involvement of both Chinese and Russian companies.70

Meanwhile, European data protection regimes, such as the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), utilize a whitelist approach, requiring “adequacy decisions” to approve data transfers to certain countries.71  European leaders have raised concerns about US surveillance practices and the lack of federal privacy legislation, which has prompted regulators to revoke previous data transfer agreements.72 The dominance of US hyperscale cloud providers, domestically and abroad, has led to a close focus in policy discussions on US legislation applicable to cloud providers, including those that affect the operations of cloud providers in other jurisdictions. Concerns regarding US government access to information have led to repeated references in policy debates to one piece of legislation: the 2018 Clarifying Lawful Overseas Use of Data (CLOUD) Act.  

The CLOUD Act restated requirements of the US Stored Communications Act (SCA) as they apply to information under the control of cloud providers, including if that information is shared, sharded (splitting data into multiple, more manageable pieces), or distributed across geographic locations, but did not change the requirements for warrants under US law to access the content of electronic communications.73  The CLOUD Act’s clarification of the SCA’s scope brought the United States into compliance with the Budapest Convention on Cybercrime, while also authorizing bilateral agreements for countries to request information from cloud providers for law enforcement investigations outside of the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty (MLAT) process.74  The EU-US Data Privacy Framework currently holds an adequacy decision, allowing individual US companies to transfer data under GDPR. However, the Trump administration’s disruption of the Privacy and Civil Liberties Oversight Board (PCLOB) and US intelligence community data collection have raised questions in Europe about the merits of the adequacy decision and could result in further legal challenges, which could remove the United States and American companies from the GDPR whitelist.75   

Concerns about the market dominance of US hyperscalers, as well as US government access to content stored on cloud computing systems, have also led to various European initiatives to foster domestic alternatives, such as the GAIA-X initiative.76  Foreign ownership restrictions contained within cloud certifications, such as the SecNumCloud regime, have led cloud providers to set up operations and joint ventures with domestic companies that manage local configurations of cloud computing. In France, for instance, Google has partnered with Thales, while Microsoft has partnered with Orange and Capgemini.77 Hyperscale cloud providers have also announced commitments to expand “sovereign” cloud regions, such as Microsoft’s partnership with a German SAP subsidiary, which will consist of “a sovereign cloud platform for the German public sector, hosted in German datacenters and operated by German personnel.”78  AWS’s sovereign cloud commitment language also highlights the physical and logical isolation of a forthcoming sovereign European cloud region, which will have “no operational control outside of EU borders.”79 These commitments and infrastructure developments require significant investments as well as a shift in operational and management strategies from the existing global distributed models.  

Table 2: Illustrative policies mapped to characteristics for digital sovereignty policies affecting cloud computing systems

Implications for cybersecurity and AI 

This multifarious tug of war over sovereignty and trust has significant implications for cloud computing infrastructure, security, and the services, including for AI. Focusing on location as a proxy for control and trust can lead to policies that ultimately undermine security goals by decreasing the reliability and integrity of essential systems. The critical nature of cloud computing means it deserves intensive evaluation to ensure the trustworthiness of foundational systems, but evaluation and assurances of trust in cloud computing should be rooted in effective guarantees. The efficiency and performance benefits of cloud computing are fractured and disrupted by location-based requirements. The replication of infrastructure, support systems, and other operational overhead creates meaningful costs for cloud providers, limiting their ability to invest in other measures that could improve performance or security. Filings by industry organizations, including the US Chamber of Commerce, prove this point by repeatedly highlighting the costs of staff and infrastructure location requirements impose on the operations of cloud providers.80

This location requirements race fragments security monitoring and threat response, limiting the ability of organizations with global footprints and technical systems to mitigate and respond to cross-border risks. National or regional silos of cloud deployments with the same underlying software and hardware deployments—all relying on core features, patterns, and architectures developed by the same handful of companies—insulate cloud deployments from legal concerns while creating technical and financial burdens.

Constraints on provider locations and jurisdictions can also limit organizations from taking full advantage of advanced global capabilities, including networking infrastructure. In 2021, for example, Portugal’s Supervisory Authority fined its public census body €4.3 million for using Cloudflare’s services, citing concerns regarding Cloudflare’s global, distributed network of servers and position as a US company.81  Despite Cloudflare’s reputation as a cost-effective and highly reliable network security provider, the ruling occurred in the wake of broader discussions on the ability of European organizations to transfer data to the United States as part of GDPR compliance.82

Moreover, the impacts of limiting access to network infrastructure are not mitigated by local datacenters and computing capacity, as organizations will still be unable to use state-of-the-art platforms that enable global communications and stronger security protections. Policies that only consider datacenter capacity and access ignore these impacts and can inadvertently create security issues while degrading service quality.

Governments should avoid imposing restrictions on access to cloud computing based exclusively on the location of cloud infrastructure. Location is at best a proxy for the security practices and guarantees of cloud providers and imposes cost and security consequences on providers. Localization requirements should, at a minimum, involve an advanced notification and blacklist approach, minimizing disruptions and operational concerns for cloud providers who build infrastructure configurations years in advance. Ad-hoc revocation should be reserved for well-documented offenders, observed compromises, and emergencies, as cloud providers, their customers, and the security ecosystem broadly benefit from stability and predictability.

Cloud security fundamentally depends upon the ability of organizations to respond to incidents rapidly at scale. Container escape vulnerabilities, which are errors in the implementation of encryption standards, or misconfigurations in the software connecting different services that expose can data and enable lateral movement, are just a few examples of cybersecurity flaws that are agnostic to the physical location of servers and support staff. If location-based requirements restrict companies’ ability to monitor, observe, and remediate incidents, or even prohibit or discourage them from retaining non-domestic cybersecurity incident response companies, organizations and governments will be cut off from the global flow of cutting-edge threat intelligence, vulnerability reports, and mitigation guidance.83

Conflicting trust frameworks can also undermine the ability of organizations to collaborate across the cloud ecosystem. Instead of working with cutting-edge providers and cybersecurity companies focused on addressing security challenges, organizations are encouraged to turn inward, reinventing the wheel by managing their own technology configurations and security postures. While these organizations have useful context for their own security risks, rapid coordination and information-sharing bolsters collective defenses in ways that are difficult to replicate. Ad-hoc grants and revocations of trust in cloud computing systems or cloud providers exacerbate these challenges, and governments should adopt frameworks for trust that allow for continuous verification and evaluation instead.

The management of cloud encryption keys and credentials is also essential to cloud security. Externalizing key management systems poses enhanced risks for the same reasons that advocates seek to localize control of encryption keys: they unlock access to otherwise secure data.84 However, removing key management from cloud provider infrastructure and placing it under the control of another provider creates additional risks, as cloud users must now trust each provider and the infrastructure or platform through which keys or identities are managed.85 Threat actors have targeted key and identity management platforms, recognizing their importance to the overall security posture of cloud customers. Okta, an identity and management company, has been the subject of repeated attacks, including a breach of its customer support portal, which initially became public because of a threat actor’s boasts on Telegram.86 Removing keys from cloud provider infrastructure does not reduce the importance of securing cryptographic information and credentials, and externalizing key management only places additional responsibility on individual customers to manage and ensure key security.

Cloud security errors and flaws cross organizational boundaries and are not prevented by distinctions between cloud providers and other companies in operating or managing infrastructure. Attackers have leveraged connections between on-premise and public cloud systems (known as hybrid cloud deployments), such as shared credentials or identity systems, to compromise and wreak havoc in cloud environments.87. In a 2023 example, a suspected Iranian threat actor used stolen credentials to move from an on-premise environment into a customer’s Azure configuration.88

Security flaws can also be similar across cloud providers, even when cloud providers separately develop features and products. The cloud security firm Wiz conducted research on the incorporation of a popular open-source database service, PostgreSQL, into cloud platforms and found similar vulnerabilities in Azure and Google Cloud, despite their independent development.89

Policymakers should not operate under the assumption that segmenting cloud infrastructure —or the oversight of cloud infrastructure —across organizations will automatically improve the cybersecurity posture of cloud configurations. By limiting the ability of companies to share information about vulnerabilities or observe threat activity across active cloud configurations, policymakers can inadvertently exacerbate the challenge of common security failures across cloud providers. The trajectory of AI development and its intense reliance on cloud resources will only exacerbate the challenges of navigating these tradeoffs. Policies that require jurisdictional independence, exclusive local legal or operational control, and partnerships with local companies incentivize configurations that are not based upon a solid foundation of technical boundaries and isolation. Artificially constraining cloud providers, mandating technology transfer, and rewarding regulatory arbitrage do nothing to advance national sovereignty objectives and incentivize lax security practices instead of proactive, systemic monitoring.

If specific government or critical infrastructure sector criteria for cloud procurement are too onerous or burdensome, they also risk artificially segmenting the cloud market, leaving public sector customers out of step with industry norms and delayed in accessing new offerings. For example, AWS’s US GovCloud region contains detailed documentation on services available in other regions that are unavailable or require distinct configurations within GovCloud.90 A US Government Accountability Office report on federal agency use of generative AI also references delays of cloud certification processes as an obstacle to access and use of new services, particularly when the companies offering them are not interested in gaining authorization through procurement processes or are unaware of federal procurement requirements.91

Critical infrastructure sectors and government agencies already shoulder cybersecurity burdens as the targets of persistent cyberattacks, with consistent ransomware attacks on hospitals as one example.92 In budget-constrained organizations, interpreting and implementing cybersecurity regulatory requirements can create cost burdens that lead to difficult tradeoffs with essential functionality.93 Policies designed to shape the cloud market broadly should carefully evaluate which sectors are impacted and to what degree. If the goal of a procurement or incentive structure is cross-sector security requirements, public entities with limited cybersecurity expertise or leverage to negotiate with hyperscale cloud providers, such as critical infrastructure operators, may not be a logical starting point.

Governments around the world have a crucial role to play in allowing cloud providers to demonstrate trustworthiness, as they can remove barriers to information sharing, harmonize international trust regimes, and demand information from providers that customers would otherwise be unable to access. Accepting and embracing this role requires a strategic focus outside of the role of governments as merely cloud procurers. While governments are essential users of the cloud, consumer protection mandates and broader security goals merit a focus on ecosystem-wide security, which should be disentangled from direct procurement capabilities. Cloud providers should be required to share cloud security indicators with governments not just as a step to securing public sector contracts, but also to verify the trustworthiness of cloud infrastructure critical to modern society.

The US can play an important role in shepherding confidential computing technology—which runs computations on isolated systems—but must also manage coordination to ensure that by the time this technology is available and trustworthy, that allies and partners have not fully pivoted to regulatory regimes that mandate fragmented cloud infrastructure. One way to assure allies and partners is to demonstrate commitments to the security of the cloud ecosystem. Where legislation like the CLOUD Act has been mis- or over-interpreted by outside entities to provide expansive authorities, law enforcement agencies should continue to clarify the scope and details of warranted access to the content or information stored by cloud providers. Through its oversight functions, the US Congress can also publicize further aggregated, anonymized, and declassified information about the nature of interactions between the intelligence community, law enforcement agencies, and cloud providers, including allowing further information sharing about national security requests.

Conclusion

As artificial intelligence demands force the evolution of cloud computing systems, policies aiming to ensure the security of cloud computing must balance the goals of visibility and control with essential capabilities. Specialized providers and the relative opacity of the AI ecosystem both make cloud computing’s role in AI more critical and fragile. As artificial intelligence workloads continue to require careful coordination across specialized providers and infrastructure, establishing clear criteria of trust in cloud computing gains urgency. The consequences of failing to establish and maintain this trust will not just be felt by organizations using the cloud to develop and deploy artificial intelligence, but by governments and companies broadly, as the cloud infrastructure they depend upon and utilize becomes fragmented and limited. 

Countries around the world have implemented and proposed policies that impose geographic or location restrictions on cloud systems, instituting organizational and operational changes for cloud providers without fully evaluating the security tradeoffs. Requirements that change the criteria for trust in cloud computing to prioritize location can silo and fragment cloud infrastructure, reducing geographic distribution that provides resilience and elasticity. Focusing the evaluation of trust instead on technical assurances, rather than geographic and organizational proxies, should be the priority of governments. The location and nationality of cloud providers, while important, are insufficient proxies for security guarantees and outcomes and ultimately serve to incentivize regulatory arbitrage and compliance over state-of-the-art security practices. 

The complexity of cloud computing—driven by scale, specialization, and demand—enables the reliable systems and technical innovations that define modern economies and ways of life—and that is why that policies and regulations in this sector need to be finely-tuned and informed by technical realities. Interventions that aim to manage this complexity by tearing apart infrastructure and segmenting it within geographic borders will only end up undermining these systems and their security without fulfilling national security goals.  

There is no doubt this is a tall task. But only strategies as nuanced as the technology itself can safeguard its advantages while establishing the foundational trust that will underpin the future of artificial intelligence and technological innovation.  

About the author

Sara Ann Brackett is an assistant director with the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Tech Programs. She focuses her work on open-source software security, software bills of materials, software liability, and software supply-chain risk management within the Cyber Statecraft Initiative’s cybersecurity and policy portfolio.

Brackett graduated from Duke University, where she majored in computer science and public policy and wrote a thesis on the effects of market concentration on cybersecurity. She participated in the Duke Tech Policy Lab’s Platform Accountability Project and worked with the Duke Cybersecurity Leadership Program as part of Professor David Hoffman’s research team.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank Trey Herr, Stewart Scott, Nitansha Bansal, Kemba Walden, Devin Lynch, Justin Sherman, Dominika Kunertova, and Joe Jarnecki for their comments on earlier drafts of this report, as well as all the individuals who participated in background and Chatham House Rule discussions about issues related to data, AI applications, and the concept of an AI supply chain. 

Explore the program

The Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Technology Programs, works at the nexus of geopolitics and cybersecurity to craft strategies to help shape the conduct of statecraft and to better inform and secure users of technology.

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76    Mark Scott and Francesco Bonfiglio, “Why Europe’s Cloud Ambitions Have Failed,” AI Now Institute, October 15, 2024, https://ainowinstitute.org/publications/xi-why-europes-cloud-ambitions-have-failed.
77    “’Cloud de Confiance’ leader,” s3ns, accessed September 4, 2025, https://www.s3ns.io/en; Judson Althoff, “Announcing comprehensive sovereign solutions empowering European organizations,” Microsoft, June 16, 2025, https://blogs.microsoft.com/blog/2025/06/16/announcing-comprehensive-sovereign-solutions-empowering-european-organizations/.
78    Brad Smith, “Microsoft announces new European digital commitments,” Microsoft, April 30, 2025, https://blogs.microsoft.com/on-the-issues/2025/04/30/european-digital-commitments/.
79    Colm MacCarthaign, “Establishing a European trust service provider for the AWS European Sovereign Cloud,” Amazon Web Services, July 10, 2025, https://aws.amazon.com/blogs/security/establishing-a-european-trust-service-provider-for-the-aws-european-sovereign-cloud/.
80    Jelalian, “Subject: Public Consultation on Amendments to Korea’s Cloud Security Assurance Program (CSAP).”
81    “The Portuguese Supervisory Authority fines the Portuguese National Statistics Institute (INE) 4.3 million EUR,” European Data Protection Board, December 19, 2022, https://www.edpb.europa.eu/news/national-news/2022/portuguese-supervisory-authority-fines-portuguese-national-statistics_en.
82    Hendrik Mildebrath, “The CJEU judgment in the Schrems II case,” European Parliament, September 2020, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/ATAG/2020/652073/EPRS_ATA(2020)652073_EN.pdf
83    Peter Swire and DeBrae Kennedy-Mayo, “The Risks to Cybersecurity from Data Localization – Organizational Effects,” 8 Arizona Law Journal of Emerging Technologies 3 (June 2025), https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.4030905.
84    Anton Chuvakin and Honna Segel, “Unlocking the mystery of stronger security key management,” Google Cloud, December 21, 2020, https://cloud.google.com/blog/products/identity-security/better-encrypt-your-security-keys-in-google-cloud.
85    “Cloud External Key Manager,” Google Cloud, accessed September 4, 2025, https://cloud.google.com/kms/docs/ekm#considerations; Chuvakin and Segel, “Unlocking the mystery of stronger security key management;” “Use Secure Cloud Key Management Practices,” US National Security Agency, CISA, March 7, 2024, https://media.defense.gov/2024/Mar/07/2003407858/-1/-1/0/CSI-CloudTop10-Key-Management.PDF.
86    Jonathan Greig, “Okta security breach affected all customer support system users,” The Record, November 29, 2023, https://therecord.media/okta-security-breach-all-support-users; Jonathan Grieg, “Okta apologizes for waiting two months to notify customers of Lapsus$ breach,” The Record, March 27, 2022, https://therecord.media/okta-apologizes-for-waiting-two-months-to-notify-customers-of-lapsus-breach.
87    Lior Sonntag, “Bridging the Security Gap: Mitigating Lateral Movement Risks from On-Premises to Cloud Environments,” Wiz, May 25, 2023, https://www.wiz.io/blog/lateral-movement-risks-in-the-cloud-and-how-to-prevent-them-part-4-from-compromis
88    MERCURY and DEV-1084: Destructive attack on hybrid environment,” Microsoft Threat Intelligence, April 7, 2023, https://www.microsoft.com/en-us/security/blog/2023/04/07/mercury-and-dev-1084-destructive-attack-on-hybrid-environment/.
89    Ronen Shustin, Shir Tamari, Nir Ohfeld, and Sagi Tzadik, “The cloud has an isolation problem: PostgreSQL vulnerabilities affect multiple cloud vendors,” Wiz, August 11, 2022, https://www.wiz.io/blog/the-cloud-has-an-isolation-problem-postgresql-vulnerabilities.
90    “Services in AWS GovCloud (US) Regions,” Amazon Web Services, accessed September 4, 2025, https://docs.aws.amazon.com/govcloud-us/latest/UserGuide/using-services.html.
91    “Artificial Intelligence: Generative AI Use and Management at Federal Agencies,” US Government Accountability Office, July 29, 2025, https://files.gao.gov/reports/GAO-25-107653/index.html.
92    “Healthcare and Public Health Sector,” CISA, accessed September 4, 2025, https://www.cisa.gov/stopransomware/healthcare-and-public-health-sector.
93    Ashley Thompson, “Re: Cyber Incident Reporting for Critical Infrastructure Act (CIRCIA) Reporting Requirements,” American Hospital Association, July 3, 2024, https://www.aha.org/lettercomment/2024-07-02-aha-responds-cisa-proposed-rule-cyber-incident-reporting-requirements.

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How the Baltic Sea nations have tackled suspicious cable cuts https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/how-the-baltic-sea-nations-have-tackled-suspicious-cable-cuts/ Wed, 26 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=889855 Two places in the world's oceans see a lot of suspicious maritime behavior: the Baltic Sea, and the waters around Taiwan. Elisabeth Braw reports from the NATO task force charged with protecting the undersea cables and pipelines essential to daily life in Europe, with lessons for Baltic states and Taiwan, too.

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Bottom lines up front

  • In 2023 and 2024, many undersea cables and a pipeline in the Baltic Sea were cut or damaged in a string of suspicious incidents. Caught by surprise, the Baltic states’ initial response was improvised and uncoordinated. 
  • The AI boom and the energy transition are likely to increase the number of undersea cables, and governments can no longer assume they would only be damaged by accident. 
  • A NATO task force now leads multinational patrols and the EU has reached out to nations whose flag is used by vessels flouting maritime law to get dangerous ships de-flagged. 

On September 26, 2022, the Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines began leaking gas in the exclusive economic zones (EEZs) of Sweden and Denmark. It quickly became clear that the leak was not a technical fault but the result of explosions. In the months and weeks before the leak, Germany, the main importer of the Russian gas carried by Nord Stream, had completely cut its Russian gas imports.1 It had also declined to certify Nord Stream 2, the second pipeline, which was full of gas and ready to commence operations.2 Nord Stream AG—Nord Stream 1’s owner—had, in turn, scheduled maintenance suspensions, some of which were not part of standard maintenance. The two pipelines, conceived of during the peak of globalization but long opposed by the Baltic states and Poland, had become so geopolitically fraught that the explosions were quickly interpreted as an act of state-linked sabotage. Most analysts reasoned that Russia must have orchestrated the explosions as an act of revenge against Western countries slashing their imports of Russian gas.

Almost precisely one year later, on October 8, 2023, the Balticconnector pipeline connecting Finland and Estonia began leaking gas in the Gulf of Finland, the easternmost part of the Baltic Sea.3 Investigators soon established that the pipeline had been hit by the Hong Kong-flagged, Chinese-owned boxship Newnew Polar Bear.4 So had an undersea data cable. Even though different countries and outfits launched individual responses, the Newnew Polar Bear managed to sail through the Baltic Sea and along Norway’s coast before reaching Russian waters, where it was completely out of investigators’ reach.

After the Eagle S had struck the fifth cable and was approaching yet another, the Finnish police and coast guard dramatically boarded and detained it.

Just over a year later, the Baltic Sea region was struck by another suspicious undersea incident. On November 17, 2024, a data cable connecting Sweden and Lithuania was damaged. So was a data cable connecting Finland and Germany, the only cable connecting Finland with the European continent. Authorities quickly identified a suspect, the Chinese-owned and Chinese-flagged bulk carrier Yi Peng 3.5 Vessels from different Baltic Sea states shadowed the bulker, but they could not detain it because it was sailing in EEZs, not territorial waters. After sailing through the Danish Straits—which count as international waters, not territorial ones—the ship stopped in Denmark’s EEZ.6 It remained there with China, the flag state, blocking Danish and other local investigators from boarding the ship. On December 20, the Chinese authorities allowed investigators from Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Germany to board, but only under Chinese supervision and only for a truncated visit.7 The following day, the bulker left.

A few weeks later, on Christmas Day, the Cook Islands-flagged tanker Eagle S struck one interconnector (power cable) and four data cables in the Gulf of Finland.8 Because the tanker was a shadow vessel known to the Finnish and Estonian authorities, both had been monitoring it.

A shadow vessel:

  • generally has owners who deliberately obfuscate their identity;
  • flies flags from nations with minimal or no maritime expertise (“flags of extreme convenience”);
  • has questionable protection and indemnity (P&I) insurance; and
  • turns off its automatic identification system (AIS) to hide its movements.

There is no standard intergovernmental definition of “shadow vessel,” but the Atlantic Council’s Threats to the global maritime order project has developed this set of criteria.

After the Eagle S had struck the fifth cable and was approaching yet another cable, the Finnish police and coast guard dramatically boarded and detained it.9 They did so in Finland’s EEZ—a highly controversial move because coastal states only have jurisdiction in their territorial waters, with limited rights in the EEZ.10 However, the Finnish authorities reasoned that they had no choice but to detain the ship in the EEZ, because not doing so would have resulted in even more cables being struck.11

The following month, the Maltese-flagged bulk carrier Vezhen struck a data cable connecting Sweden and Latvia. When the bulker approached Sweden, authorities escorted it into Swedish territorial waters, then seized it.12 However, because the prosecutor couldn’t prove that the bulker’s crew had intentionally released the anchor, the investigation was shelved and the ship and crew were released.13

Between and after these high-profile incidents, ships were spotted behaving suspiciously near undersea cables and pipelines. The sightings, and especially the incidents, have highlighted a troubling reality: governments and undersea-infrastructure operators can no longer assume that ships will only hit undersea installations by accident. On the contrary, they must now assume that the waters above the cables and pipelines are frequented by state and non-state actors wishing to damage these installations.

This matters because existing cables and pipelines are indispensable to the functioning of the countries they connect. What is more, the continuing digital transformation and the advance of artificial intelligence (AI) will require even more undersea data cables, and the green transition will require even more undersea power cables. These undersea power cables transport electricity between different countries, between countries and islands, and between offshore wind farms and the mainland. For Europe, the need to replace Russian gas imports makes undersea pipelines providing gas from Norway essential.

A coordination cell takes on saboteurs and the shadow fleet

Even though it has long been known that saboteurs could target undersea cables and pipelines, countries and organizations affiliated with them have historically refrained from doing so, if only because the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) bans deliberate damage of undersea installations. Terrorist organizations, for their part, have had little interest in conducting attacks that would not result in dramatic footage. Although some damage to undersea cables and pipelines over the decades has been attributed to criminals, nation-state involvement has been exceedingly rare.

That explains why, in September 2022, the Nord Stream explosions caught Baltic Sea nations and the rest of the world by surprise.14 Because the explosions occurred in the EEZs of Sweden and Denmark, the two countries launched investigations. As one of two countries connected by the pipelines, Germany also launched an investigation. Russia, the other country connected by the pipelines, repeatedly accused the three other countries of not sharing information about their investigations with Russian authorities.15 These protestations were widely condemned and ridiculed by Western commentators, who assumed that Russia was behind the explosions.

The real test for the Baltic Sea nations, and NATO, will arrive if—or when—a vessel ignores instructions to change course.

Even after the incident, Nord Stream’s extremely high profile led the three countries to believe the attack had been a one-off incident. NATO and the Baltic Sea nations did not see a need to establish protocols in case further attacks occurred, though NATO tasked Hans-Werner Wiermann, a retired German general, with mapping out what role the Alliance could play in coordinating the response to future incidents. Wiermann responded by establishing a coordination cell, based at NATO headquarters, which would function as a clearinghouse of information between different agencies in different member states. The coordination cell began operations in early 2023.16

The coordination cell was, however, dependent on receiving all necessary information from authorities in NATO member states, and that stream of information was not yet fully functional when the Balticconnector began leaking gas. The lack of a NATO-wide protocol for such incidents meant that Finland and Estonia activated their national protocols, but that information was not systematically shared across NATO and national authorities. As a result, a few allies and NATO institutions independently discovered that an incident had taken place and began investigating. However, there was no regular coordination between the different entities. That meant that it took hours before the Newnew Polar Bear was identified as a suspect and, by that point, the boxship had left the EEZs of Finland and Estonia and struck a nearby data cable.17 The authorities later realized that the Chinese-owned ship appeared to have cut a data cable in Sweden’s EEZ before hitting the Balticconnector.

Precisely because there were no NATO-wide protocols for such situations, and also because Sweden was not yet a member of NATO, the information did not reach the right authorities and officials quickly enough. That enabled the Newnew Polar Bear to make its way through the Baltic Sea, through the Danish Straits, along the Norwegian coast, and into Russian waters before the respective countries’ authorities—and NATO—could decide what actions to take. (The Newnew Polar Bear had, in coordination with Russian authorities, recently undertaken a pioneering journey through Russia’s Northern Sea Route.18) “Where we were in 2023 was that damage to undersea cables and pipelines was in the risk scenarios, there was acknowledgement that these kinds of incidents could happen,” said Erkki Tori, Estonia’ national security advisor. “But I don’t think that we truly acknowledged the multinational nature of these incidents. What we learned in Estonia after the Newnew Polar Bear incident was that you need to have a very operational relationship with different nations that you share the undersea infrastructure with. And not only on one level, but on multiple levels: the government level, the agency level, but also on the level of the companies that use or co-own the infrastructure.”19

Since then, communication protocols and coordination have improved. Tori added: “On a bilateral basis [with Finland], we have tried to maintain and enhance the relationships that we built as a response to the Newnew Polar Bear incident. If you move further from there onto a regional perspective, you need such relationships across the region as well, because even just one moving ship might be a problem for various critical undersea infrastructure objects. You need to have the same kind of awareness, the same kind of response protocol throughout the region as well.”20

A new NATO task force patrols the Baltic Sea

In March 2024, Sweden was finally admitted to NATO after Turkey dropped its opposition. A few months later, in October, Germany stood up Commander Task Force (CTF) Baltic.21 While NATO has other CTFs, CTF Baltic took on special significance the moment it was created, as it was seen as another response to the undersea incidents, with a role completely different from that of NATO’s coordination cell.

CTF Baltic, based in the German port city of Rostock, has some ninety naval officers, most of them from the Bundeswehr, with others on loan from Baltic Sea nations and even southern European countries like Italy. It also commands a fleet of naval vessels and some aircraft, most of which belong to the Bundeswehr while others are on loan from allies.

While CTF Baltic’s official task is “to coordinate naval activities in the region with Germany’s allies and provide them with a current joint maritime situational picture around the clock,” its focus since its inception has been on the shadow fleet and threats to undersea installations. “The Baltic Sea may seem like a small ocean, but it’s a significant body of water to patrol,” said Brian Svendsen of the Danish Navy, CTF Baltic’s assistant chief of staff for current and future operations. “We focus on the shipping lanes, on ships that have previously been identified as a potential source of concern, and naturally monitoring the undersea installations.”22

Although CTF Baltic is a German entity, it undertakes its activities on behalf of NATO’s Maritime Command (MARCOM). It does so not only by patrolling selected parts of the Baltic Sea, but also by monitoring ship movements from land, including through radar. When the leaders of NATO’s Baltic littoral states announced the creation of Baltic Sentry in January 2025, it was not a matter of a new organization but rather a new component for CTF Baltic.23 Baltic Sentry essentially added more vessels, patrol aircraft, and staff to the setup already in place in Rostock.24 “We had found that in order to show that we take the threat to undersea installations seriously, we need allied presence on top of our national presence,” Tori said. “And by we, I don’t mean just Estonia and Finland. On a national basis, we already have ships patrolling. Baltic Sentry is there to show solidarity and as a very practical measure, a way of demonstrating vigilance.”25

Around the same time that NATO allies launched Baltic Sentry, the Joint Expeditionary Force (JEF) activated Nordic Warden, a monitoring system that “harnesses AI to assess data from a range of sources, including the Automatic Identification System (AIS) ships use to broadcast their position, to calculate the risk posed by each vessel entering areas of interest.”26 Nordic Warden was also integrated into CTF Baltic’s operations. (The United Kingdom-led JEF also comprises Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Iceland, Latvia, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Norway, and Sweden.)

Only a few weeks after CTF Baltic was launched, the Yi Peng 3 incident occurred, and the Eagle S and Vezhen incidents occurred after that, but the Baltic Sea has not experienced any suspicious undersea incidents since January 2025. “That is a sign that the deterrence we provide is working,” Svendsen said. As with all deterrence, it is impossible to ascertain whether the deterrent has worked or whether no further incidents were being planned, but mounting deterrence is better than testing one’s luck without it.

Either way, the Baltic Sea countries today have in place collaboration, monitoring, and response options that are a far cry from where they were when the Newnew Polar Bear struck the Balticconnector in October 2023. When shadow vessels approach undersea cables and pipelines, CTF Baltic monitors them. Should another vessel start behaving suspiciously around undersea installations, the task force will detect that too. Also, coastal states’ coast guards and navies conduct regular patrols, and the countries’ authorities systematically share updates in a manner that simply was not in place in mid-2023 and earlier. Their efforts also show how NATO member states can succeed in addressing regional threats without the entire Alliance needing to become involved.

In addition, Tori noted, the European Union (EU) is also part of the efforts to restore order in the Baltic Sea, not just through its sanctions on specific shadow vessels. EU officials also engage with counterparts in the countries that flag the shadow vessels. Today such countries—flags of extreme convenience, to use the phrase coined by this author—include the Gambia, Sierra Leone, and Comoros. In a noteworthy development that reflects European outreach, Barbados, Gabon, and the Cook Islands—which had been popular flag states for shadow vessels—have announced they will de-flag ships sanctioned by Western governments.27 While incidents involving undersea infrastructure are not limited to shadow vessels, the fact that shadow vessels skirt rules and have opaque ownership structures makes them more likely candidates for suspicious incidents than conventional ships.

In addition, the EU is implementing its Action Plan on Cable Security, which it passed in February 2025. Among other measures, the plan involves steps to further develop information exchange and strengthen joint repair capabilities.28

If, or when, another suspicious incident involving undersea cables or pipelines occurs, it is less clear how NATO, the EU, or the nations and entities now involved in the efforts to protect this infrastructure would respond. “We’d deploy there straight away, and it’s important to remember that the Baltic Sea is bigger than it seems,” Svendsen explained. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. In case of an incident, we’d deploy to the site and monitor it, but the response is up to the coastal state because it decides what can be done depends on that country’s legal system. And it’s important to remember that the owners of cables and pipelines have primary responsibility for their security. CTF Baltic and NATO are there to assist, but not to provide all-round security.”29

As a military alliance, NATO is also not in charge of responding to suspected underwater sabotage; coastal states are. In the Baltic Sea, vessels seconded to CTF Baltic can return to national command if needed in incident response. But the question remains how the coastal states and NATO would respond. For now, they seem to bet that patrolling and monitoring the Baltic Sea will deter sabotage of undersea installations—but like all deterrence efforts, these activities are at best an educated guess. The real test for the Baltic Sea nations, and NATO, will arrive if—or when—a vessel ignores CTF Baltic’s patrols and coastal states’ instructions to change course.

From the Baltics to the South China Sea

The Baltic Sea is the region most affected by Russia’s shadow vessels and—together with Taiwan—the region most affected by suspicious incidents involving undersea cables and pipelines. At the time of the Newnew Polar Bear incident in October 2023, individual countries had impressive response protocols, but there were no real protocols involving information sharing and response with other countries. That situation has dramatically improved. Today, the Baltic Sea countries systematically share information, aided by NATO’s coordination cell, and consistently exchange updates and information with cable and pipeline operators, while national authorities and CTF Baltic monitor traffic around the clock and are able to deploy in case of an incident.

What is less clear is how CTF Baltic and national authorities would respond in case of an incident in which a vessel refuses to obey orders to move or has already struck a cable or pipeline and refuses orders to halt. Such rules of engagement cannot be established by CTF Baltic or national authorities. Instead, they depend on what NATO decides constitutes an aggressive act that could trigger Article 5.

CTF Baltic and Baltic Sea countries can bring further attention to suspicious incidents by adopting the Philippines’ strategy of total transparency. In contested parts of the South China Sea, where the Chinese Coast Guard and Maritime Militia harass Philippine and other vessels, the Philippine Coast Guard patrols the waters and films each dangerous Chinese activity. At times, the Philippine Coast Guard also invites reporters on board its vessels. This gives the public at home and abroad a better understanding of the dangerous activities transpiring in the South China Sea. A similar strategy could help educate the public about the situation in the Baltic Sea. As in the South China Sea, those involved in dangerous activities in the Baltic Sea are likely to be immune to naming and shaming, but public attention would increase the pressure on them and, at the same time, educate the public about actions their governments might need to take.

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1    “Bundesnetzagentur Veröffentlicht Zahlen zur Gasversorgung 2022,” Bundesnetzagentur, January 6, 2023, https://www.bundesnetzagentur.de/SharedDocs/Pressemitteilungen/DE/2023/20230106_RueckblickGasversorgung.html
2    “Certification Procedure for Nord Stream 2 Suspended,” Bundesnetzagentur, November 16, 2021, https://www.bundesnetzagentur.de/SharedDocs/Pressemitteilungen/EN/2021/20211116_NOS2.html
3    Anne Kauranen and Terje Solsvik, “Finland Says ‘Outside Activity’ Likely Damaged Gas Pipeline, Telecoms Cable,” Reuters, October 10, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/markets/commodities/finnish-government-hold-news-conference-suspected-pipeline-leak-media-2023-10-10/
4    “National Bureau of Investigation Has Clarified Technically the Cause of Gas Pipeline Damage,” Police of Finland, October 24, 2023, https://poliisi.fi/en/-/national-bureau-of-investigation-has-clarified-technically-the-cause-of-gas-pipeline-damage
5    Elisabeth Braw, “Suspected Sabotage by a Chinese Vessel in the Baltic Sea Speaks to a Wider Threat,” Atlantic Council, November 21, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/suspected-sabotage-by-a-chinese-vessel-in-the-baltic-sea-speaks-to-a-wider-threat/
6    Ibid.
7    Louise Rasmussen, “China Lets Sweden, Finland, Germany and Denmark Board Ship in Cable Breach Case,” Reuters, December 20, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/swedish-police-go-board-yi-peng-3-vessel-invitation-china-2024-12-19/
8    Michelle Wiese Bockmann, “Russia-Linked Cable-Cutting Tanker Seized by Finland ‘Was Loaded with Spying Equipment,’” Lloyd’s List, December 27, 2024, https://www.lloydslist.com/LL1151955/Russia-linked-cable-cutting-tanker-seized-by-Finland-was-loaded-with-spying-equipment
9    “Boarding of Eagle S ‘Serious Violation of Maritime Safety,’ Says Master,” Lloyd’s List, August 22, 2025, https://www.lloydslist.com/LL1154601/Boarding-of-Eagle-S-serious-violation-of-maritime-safety-says-master
10    Ibid.
11    Joshua Minchin, “Eagle S Could Have Cut More Cables, Says Finnish Police,” Lloyd’s List, January 14, 2025, https://www.lloydslist.com/LL1152219/Eagle-S-could-have-cut-more-cables-says-Finnish-police
12    Alexander Martin, “Sweden’s Elite Armed Police Used Helicopter to Board Suspected Sabotage Ship,” Record, January 29, 2025, https://therecord.media/sweden-vezhen-ship-armed-police-boarded-helicopter
13    “Misstankar om Sabotage Efter Kabelbrottet Avskrivna—Beslagtagna Fartyget Vezhen Släpps,” SVT Hyheter, February 3, 2025, https://www.svt.se/nyheter/lokalt/blekinge/beslagtagna-fartyget-slapps
14    The countries with Baltic coasts are: Germany, Poland, Sweden, Denmark. Finland, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. In addition, Russia’s Kaliningrad exclave has a Baltic coastline.
15    “The Nord Stream Incident: Open Briefing,” Security Council Report, October 3, 2024, https://www.securitycouncilreport.org/whatsinblue/2024/10/the-nord-stream-incident-open-briefing.php
16    “NATO Stands Up Undersea Infrastructure Coordination Cell,” NATO, February 15, 2023, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/news_211919.htm
17    Roula Khalaf and Oliver Telling, “Chinese Vessel Spotted Where Baltic Sea Cables Were Severed,” Financial Times, November 19, 2024, https://www.ft.com/content/383516a5-02db-46cf-8caa-a7b26a0a1bb2
18    Elisabeth Braw, “Finland Identifies Pipeline Sabotage Ship,” American Enterprise Institute, October 25, 2023, https://www.aei.org/foreign-and-defense-policy/defense/finland-identifies-pipeline-sabotage-ship/
19    Interview with the author, October 17, 2025.
20    Ibid.
21    “Commander Task Force Baltic Established,” Bundeswehr, October 21, 2024, https://www.bundeswehr.de/en/organization/navy/news/commander-task-force-baltic-established-5850832
22    Interview with the author, October 15, 2025.
23    “NATO Launches ‘Baltic Sentry’ to Increase Critical Infrastructure Security,” NATO, January 14, 2025, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/news_232122.htm
24    Ibid.
25    Interview with the author, October 17, 2025.
26    “Joint Expeditionary Force Activates UK-Led Reaction System to Track Threats to Undersea Infrastructure and Monitor Russian Shadow Fleet,” Government of the United Kingdom, press release, January 6, 2025, https://www.gov.uk/government/news/joint-expeditionary-force-activates-uk-led-reaction-system-to-track-threats-to-undersea-infrastructure-and-monitor-russian-shadow-fleet
27    Braw, “The Threats Posed by the Global Shadow Fleet—and How to Stop It”; “Top 7 Geopolitical Disruptions in Q3 2025,” Windward, last visited October 28, 2025, https://windward.ai/knowledge-base/top-7-geopolitical-disruptions-q3-2025/
28    “Joint Communication to the European Parliament and the Council: EU Action Plan on Cable Security,” European Commission, February 21, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/HTML/?uri=CELEX:52025JC0009
29    Interview with the author, October 15, 2025.

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Carbon markets and climate finance for Ukraine’s recovery https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/carbon-markets-and-climate-finance-for-ukraines-recovery/ Wed, 19 Nov 2025 21:45:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=889238 As COP30 unfolds, learn how Ukraine's experience will influence climate finance mechanisms and drive sustainable recovery efforts.

The post Carbon markets and climate finance for Ukraine’s recovery appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Amid full-scale war, Ukraine is emerging as a laboratory for innovative finance, testing climate finance solutions—such as Article 6 of the Paris Agreement—as a way to channel finance directly into reconstruction projects.
  • A proposed “solidarity credits” framework, using the funding pool of a Green Recovery Fund and supported by a first-loss guarantee facility, could de-risk private investment and unlock concessional finance for Ukraine’s recovery.
  • By linking carbon integrity with human security, Ukraine can show how carbon markets can drive resilient development in fragile or transitioning economies, from solar roofs on hospitals to reforestation, setting a model for countries aligning climate action with security and inclusive growth.

As COP30 convenes in Belém, the first UN Climate Conference hosted in the Amazon and a symbolic turning point for global climate solidarity, the question before negotiators is not only how to scale climate ambition, but how to ensure it delivers on Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) finance for countries’ sustainable economic development. Ukraine’s recovery stands as one of the clearest tests of whether climate finance can function under conditions of war. Article 6, finalized last year in Baku, now enters its implementation phase; Ukraine’s experience could define how these mechanisms evolve.

The challenge of financing reconstruction in Ukraine is massive. Russia’s full-scale invasion has inflicted more than $176 billion in direct damage and over $589 billion in economic losses across Ukraine, which is nearly three times the country’s pre-war gross domestic product (GDP). The destruction is systemic, with the metals sector reducing steel production by almost 71 percent after several leading plants were destroyed or occupied. Millions of acres of farmland are unusable due to occupation or contamination from over two million landmines, making it the most heavily mined country in the world. Natural reserves such as Sviati Hory have lost thousands of hectares of forest and wetland ecosystems to fires and contamination. The energy sector ranks among the most heavily affected, with up to 93 percent of damaged or destroyed assets across power generation, transmission, and distribution infrastructure since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion. As of December 2024, the sector’s recovery and modernization needs are estimated at $67.78 billion, including $53.7 billion to rebuild power generation on green transition principles aligned with EU climate and energy goals. The Ukrainian regions facing the highest reconstruction needs—Zaporizhzhia, Kharkiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Donetsk, Odesa, and Sumy oblasts—are industrial hubs and front-line territories.

Despite the scale of destruction, Ukraine’s recovery offers an opportunity for transformation. The country can not only rebuild what was lost, but also redesign its economy and infrastructure on resilient, sustainable, and future-ready foundations. Guided by the Build Back Better principle, endorsed by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and supported by international partners, Ukraine aims to reconstruct using higher-quality, advanced, and sustainable technologies, aligning recovery with the EU’s Green Transition and Digital Transformation agendas. 

If realized, this vision could radically reshape Ukraine’s economic landscape by mid-century. The economic dividends would be substantial: lower import bills, improved trade balance, and thousands of skilled jobs in engineering, manufacturing, and local services. Breaking its historic dependence on imported fossil fuels, once 70 percent of Ukraine’s energy mix, Ukraine could become nearly self-sufficient in primary energy. New value chains in clean technologies, sustainable construction materials, and bio-based industries would drive regional growth and anchor long-term industrial modernization.

As Ukraine aligns its recovery strategy with the EU Green Deal, one of the most pressing challenges will be balancing industrial revival with the obligations stemming from the EU’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM). Exemption from CBAM may be politically feasible in the short term, but in the long run, Ukraine’s competitiveness will depend on achieving genuine emissions reductions across energy-intensive sectors. Carbon finance under Article 6 could be instrumental in this process—directing investment toward low-carbon steel, cement, and fertilizer production, speeding the transition away from coal and gas, and helping Ukraine move toward alignment with the EU’s carbon pricing and reporting systems.

Yet the challenge is immense. Achieving this transformation will require annual investment around $35 billion across energy, industry, transport, and buildings, including $11 billion each year in renewable generation and grid infrastructure. Ukraine’s $524 billion reconstruction need is therefore more than rebuilding physical assets; it is a test of financial credibility, investor confidence, and political will. In defending Ukraine against Russia’s unlawful aggression—a threat not only to Ukrainian sovereignty but to the shared interests and security of its allies—Western countries have already demonstrated significant political will, mobilizing over $454 billion in military, financial, and humanitarian aid since 2022. The same resolve now needs to power a new framework for climate-aligned reconstruction, where solidarity is measured not just in aid, but in investment, innovation, and shared security. 

The scale of Ukraine’s reconstruction is daunting, yet existing international frameworks currently being discussed at COP30 could potentially help mobilize the necessary capital. Can COP leaders leverage the framework of Article 6 of the Paris Agreement to bring reconstruction finance to Ukraine?

Article 6 as a bridge to climate, development, and green recovery finance

Article 6 of the Paris Agreement enables the trade of emission reductions and removals units as “internationally transferred mitigation outcomes” (ITMOs)—equal to 1 ton of CO2 counted toward the country’s climate targets. In practice, a government or company can fund verified climate action abroad, and count the resulting emissions reduction toward its own NDC, or use them for corporate or investment needs. 

If implemented at scale, Article 6 can become a channel for financing Ukraine’s reconstruction and green transition. Reimagined as a mechanism for countries to further demonstrate their unwavering support for Ukraine, Article 6 ITMOs could be redefined as “solidarity credits,” verified units of climate finance directed to Ukraine’s reconstruction. These credits would support grid restoration, renewable-energy deployment, and institutional capacity building, while following Article 6’s framework and maintaining its integrity and transparency requirements.The governments of the United Kingdom, the EU, and Ukraine could take the lead in testing this approach through bilateral agreements under Article 6. The initiative would pilot a new class of “solidarity credits” that uphold Article 6’s integrity rules while extending its application to post-conflict reconstruction. These credits would enable partner countries to channel verifiable climate finance (or results-based finance) into Ukraine’s recovery, supporting projects such as clean energy. Then, the supporting government could either claim these credits or let the private sector buy or invest in them, thus providing climate finance and advancing global decarbonization goals. Because these are authorized under the Paris Agreement, there is no risk of double-counting. Companies can retire these ITMO units to support high-integrity corporate climate claims, bolstering their climate accountability and transition plans while channeling capital into Ukraine’s recovery.

Current endeavors

Last year’s package agreed at COP29 in Baku effectively finalized the core rulebook for Article 6. In practice, this means that the Paris Agreement architecture for issuing and trading ITMOS under Article 6.2 and under Article 6.4 is now sufficiently clear for countries to move from design to delivery. Early movers, including Switzerland, Honduras, Suriname and Japan, have begun translating these rules into real national programs and project transactions, showing what the Article 6 implementation actually looks like.

That shift, however, has also underscored how complex and demanding Article 6 is to implement effectively. The framework builds on the Kyoto Protocol’s clean development and joint implementation mechanisms, retaining their focus on transparent governance, environmental integrity, and contributions to sustainable development while introducing stricter safeguards and transparency, and stronger alignment with national climate targets. Implementing this framework requires robust national systems, including clear authorization procedures, reliable monitoring, reporting and verification, and registries capable of tracking units from issuance to final use. Many countries are now developing and implementing these systems, and while progress is evident, it remains uneven across jurisdictions.

For the moment, international transfers of ITMOs remain modest in volume, but some countries, such as Honduras and Suriname have signed MoUs to trade large volumes with large banks and companies. Limited adoption is not a failure of the concept so much as a reflection of both the infancy of this new market and the work needed to align domestic institutions, data systems, and project pipelines with these new Article 6 rules and regulations. As more countries complete those building blocks and capital liquidity enters this market, a steady scale-up is inevitable.

Designing a new financial architecture

Implementing Article 6 to enable Ukraine’s reconstruction will be a test of financial ingenuity, with clear policy signals, proving that climate finance can operate even under extreme conditions of risk and instability, such as war.

The framework suggested by the Oxford Roadmap to Net-Zero Aligned Carbon Market Regulation, which is widely referenced as setting a gold-standard approach in carbon finance investment-grade, defines six pillars: efficient financing, net-zero alignment, ecosystem integrity, equitable outcomes, enforcement, and usability. These principles can support a de-risked Article 6 architecture, one that embeds high-integrity standards within Ukraine’s reconstruction finance. Applied to Ukraine, they suggest a model where carbon revenues complement grants and concessional lending. Even a modest stream of credits could channel between $2 billion and $3 billion annually into verified renewable and grid-resilience projects, roughly 5 percent of Ukraine’s annual recovery needs.

Translating these principles into practice requires a concrete governance model. Integrity and traceability are the bridge between abstract standards and operational finance. Each Article 6 credit should therefore carry verifiable metadata—satellite monitoring, reporting, and verification; third-party audits; and tangible co-benefits such as megawatts restored, hospitals powered, jobs created, or tons of diesel displaced.

Why now?

The UK and EU are uniquely positioned to partner with Ukraine on carbon finance. London retains diplomatic credibility on climate policy and has been among Ukraine’s staunchest allies since 2022. Its management of the International Climate Finance (ICF) portfolio and commitment to high-integrity carbon markets form a solid foundation, reinforced by the 2025 UK–Ukraine 100-Year Partnership Memorandum.

The EU, on November 5, 2025, approved a 90 percent emissions reduction target for 2040, allowing member states to use Article 6 international carbon credits for up to 5 percent of their emissions. This would allow and incentivize any EU member countries, companies, and investors to invest in Ukraine and use those Article 6 carbon credits for their emissions reduction purposes.

On October 29, 2025, the second NDC of Ukraine to the Paris Agreement was approved by resolution of the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine and published on the UNFCCC website during COP30. This sends a strong political signal and shows a clear determination by Ukraine to grow its economy sustainably. Ukraine aims to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions in 2035 by more than 65 percent from 1990 levels. Furthermore, Ukraine intends to continue participating in market mechanisms under Article 6 of the Paris Agreement as a party on whose territory projects under Article 6 of the Paris Agreement are implemented. 

By participating in cooperative approaches, under Article 6, Ukraine will comply with the rules and guidelines in accordance with the decisions of the Paris Agreement to ensure proper accounting, environmental integrity, transparency, and avoidance of double counting. 

A proposed bilateral Article 6 framework could consist of three pillars:

  1. Solidarity credits: The UK and the EU would contribute approximately £200 million ($263.4 million) to a Ukraine Green Recovery Fund. This fund would finance projects such as grid reconstruction, solar energy initiatives, and energy efficiency upgrades. The resulting ITMOs would be transferred to the UK but explicitly not used to meet its NDCs. Instead, they would function as either “solidarity credits,” or sold to businesses and the capital markets, thus strengthening business cooperation and bringing symbolic political value.
  2. Guarantee facility for risk mitigation: Utilizing UK-backed concessional finance, a first-loss guarantee facility would reduce investment risk for private developers. This guarantee would cover partial losses if a project is destroyed or interrupted by conflict, thereby lowering Ukraine’s perceived country risk.
  3. Pilot “green corridors” with transparent monitoring, reporting, and verification. Two to three green corridors, for example, around Kyiv, Vinnytsia, and Dnipro, could serve as regional reconstruction zones integrating distributed renewable energy and upgraded transmission infrastructure within international carbon-market frameworks, including the Paris Agreement Crediting Mechanisms.

For quick and lasting impact, Ukraine should prioritize projects where carbon finance meets human security:

  • Distributed renewables on schools, hospitals, and administrative buildings—Ukraine’s rooftop photovoltaic potential exceeds 238.8 gigawatts, alongside distributed storage. Ukrainian firms such as KNESS have already deployed over 100 megawatt-hour of battery capacity. For example, retrofitting municipal hospitals in Chernihiv oblast with rooftop solar systems could unlock concessional financing backed by a UK guarantee covering 20 percent of potential losses, thereby reducing the cost of capital from 12 percent to 7 percent.
  • Energy-efficiency retrofits could cut heating demand by 50 percent and 60 percent since almost 80 percent of the housing stock in Ukraine is considered energy inefficient, with the bulk constructed between the 1960s and 1980s.
  • Circular-economy and low-carbon materials for reconstruction can cut emissions and reduce import dependency. Ukraine’s biomethane potential, estimated at 9.7 billion cubic meters annually, offers a strategic opportunity to replace fossil natural gas in heating, industry, and transport.
  • Nature-based solutions should be a priority in both ecological and urban recovery. With more than ten million hectares of degraded land, Ukraine could pilot high-integrity restoration projects under Article 5—from reforestation to green urban renewal in heavily affected cities such as Chernihiv and Mykolaiv.

These activities would diversify Ukraine’s mitigation portfolio and embed climate resilience in its recovery model.

Restoring trust through carbon finance cooperation

By linking emission reductions and removals to real reconstruction outcomes, Ukraine can turn climate cooperation into a driver of national renewal, and the COP process can become the beginning of this road for Ukraine. A transparent, high-integrity carbon market would show that climate action can restore energy generation capacities, reforest bombed landscapes, and reconnect communities. 

In this sense, Ukraine’s carbon market could become a prototype for conflict-affected economies worldwide, where climate policy and recovery policy converge, and where the currency of carbon is measured not only in tons of CO₂ but in megawatts restored, hectares rehabilitated, and lives rebuilt. 

about the authors

Ievgeniia Kopytsia is a legal scholar and policy expert with more than ten years of experience advancing climate and environmental governance across Ukraine, the EU, and international institutions. She specializes in climate and energy law, post-conflict reconstruction, and the legal alignment of Ukraine with European and global standards for a green transition.  As a national legal expert, Kopytsia has provided legislative assessments, policy advice, and project leadership on the implementation of environmental and climate laws, including supporting Ukraine’s climate policy reforms and green recovery initiatives. She is a frequent contributor to international conferences and working groups, focusing on the intersection of environmental law, conflict resilience, and sustainable development within the Euro-Atlantic community.

Darka Harnyk is the director of the Energy Security Marshall Plan for Ukraine at EOPA, where she works with Ukraine’s Ministry of Economy, Ministry of Environment, and international partners to develop financing mechanisms for post-war green reconstruction. Her work focuses on Article 6 climate cooperation, war-risk de-risking, and critical raw materials. Before transitioning into reconstruction and climate finance, Harnyk worked in the tech sector at Unity Technologies and later earned a degree in environmental science and policy from Columbia University.

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Biometrics and digital identity in Africa https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/biometrics-and-digital-identity-in-africa/ Wed, 19 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=888771 Biometrics have become deeply embedded in Africa’s political, social, and economic landscape. 

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Bottom lines up front

  • Forty-nine African countries now operate biometric systems, with foreign vendors dominating a market that controls the continent’s most sensitive identity infrastructure.
  • An estimated half a billion Africans lack identity documents, driving governments to deploy biometric systems rapidly. Still, weak governance frameworks often mean these technologies exclude the very populations they’re intended to serve.
  • From Uganda’s Ndaga Muntu to Kenya’s Huduma Namba, biometric deployments across Africa face common challenges: data breaches, corruption in enrollment processes, exclusion of elderly citizens, and the use of facial recognition to monitor political dissent.

Executive summary

The rapid adoption of biometric and digital identification systems is transforming governance and public administration across Africa. Promoted as tools to modernize service delivery, enhance electoral integrity, and strengthen state capacity, these systems are becoming central to how identity and citizenship are managed. From national identification schemes and voter registration to border management and SIM card registration, biometrics have become deeply embedded in Africa’s political, social, and economic landscape. 

However, this technological expansion comes with profound risks. Weak legal frameworks, limited oversight, and a growing reliance on foreign vendors have created an ecosystem vulnerable to privacy breaches, state surveillance, and systemic exclusion. Biometric systems increasingly integrate electoral and civil identity data, giving governments vast surveillance capabilities while disenfranchising marginalized groups such as rural communities, migrants, and individuals without foundational IDs. 

The report explores the main use cases driving biometrics and digital identification systems in Africa, focusing on their governance, vendor dynamics, and human rights impacts. Key areas include national identification and civil registration, which provide the foundation for legal identity and access to services; immigration management; elections, where they strengthen voter registration and authentication; and smart city initiatives, which leverage digital IDs for efficient service delivery and urban governance. 

The research reveals that foreign technology firms dominate Africa’s biometric ecosystem; that forty-nine African countries have at least one form of biometric system; and thirty-five out of the fifty-four countries on the continent use biometrics in their election processes. Companies such as Idemia (France), Semlex (Belgium), Veridos (Germany), Thales (France), and Huawei (China) provide the core technology, hardware, and algorithms that underpin these systems. African governments often finance these projects through loans from international institutions like the World Bank, creating dependencies that shape procurement and governance practices. 

While biometric systems are often introduced to improve electoral processes and service delivery, their fragmented rollout forces citizens to repeatedly submit sensitive data across multiple platforms, increasing costs and risk of fraud. Many projects lack transparency, with procurement processes shielded under the guise of national security. Public knowledge of these systems remains low: a sample study in three countries by ICT Works found that only 38 percent of surveyed citizens were aware of their governments’ purchases of biometric, facial recognition, or AI systems, highlighting a significant transparency gap. 

To mitigate these risks, the report offers seven key policy recommendations: 

  1. Strengthening independent oversight bodies free from political interference; 
  2. Enacting comprehensive data protection laws covering the full life cycle of biometric data; 
  3. Ensuring transparent, participatory deployment processes; Integrating human rights due diligence into all projects; 
  4. Establishing continuous oversight and remedies for rights violations; 
  5. Protecting electoral integrity and preventing the over-integration of ID systems; 
  6. Embedding a rights-based governance model rooted in privacy, equality, and non-discrimination. 

The findings underscore that biometric and digital identity systems must not be viewed merely as technical tools for modernization. They are inherently political, with the potential to either strengthen democratic governance or entrench authoritarian control. Without robust reforms, these systems risk becoming instruments of exclusion and surveillance rather than empowerment. 

read the full report

About the authors

Sani Suleiman Sani is a policy and research strategist shaping continental dialogue on digital rights, technology governance, and inclusive innovation in Africa. He leads the research portfolio at Paradigm Initiative, where he oversees multi-country studies that inform legislative processes, corporate accountability, and global debates on digital policy.

Thobekile Matimbe is a human rights lawyer and Senior Manager Partnerships and Engagements at Paradigm Initiative (PIN) where she dedicates her skills to the advancement of digital rights and inclusion in Africa and beyond.

Kenton Thibaut is a senior resident China fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab (DFRLab), where she leads China programming for the Democracy + Tech Initiative, and a resident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Indo-Pacific Security Initiative (IPSI) at the Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.

 Iria Puyosa is a senior research fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Democracy+Tech Initiative. She specializes in the complex interplay between technology and political dynamics. 

Acknowledgements

This report was made possible with support from the Embassy of Denmark in the United States. The Digital Forensic Research Lab (DFRLab) would also like to thank the Paradigm Initiative for contributing writing and research.

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Why Ankara’s rising power in the Sahel could benefit the West https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/why-ankaras-rising-power-in-the-sahel-could-benefit-the-west/ Wed, 19 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=888402 Turkey offers a rare channel in the Sahel that the West could use to recalibrate its approach to the region.

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Bottom lines up front

  • Arms and infrastructure deals have steadily bolstered Turkey’s standing as a reliable partner in the Sahel, where coups disrupted French and US roles.
  • Turkey’s “solution-based” diplomacy contrasts sharply with Russia’s security-first playbook in Africa, yet they operate in parallel rather than competing in the countries with military juntas.
  • Ankara must decide whether to align more openly with Russia in the Sahel or mediate and potentially counter Russian influence, potentially coordinating with the West on security strategy.

As the US role in the Sahel is weakening, Turkey’s role is rising. With new defense agreements, increasing diplomatic engagements, and joint economic development projects with new, junta governments that espouse anti-colonial rhetoric in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, Turkey finds itself working in the same theater as the Kremlin to fill the void left after Western forces departed. Turkey’s new trusted status among Sahelian governments and its state-led approach make it one of the nations positioned to influence regional security dynamics during a time when other Western powers are constrained. Although Turkish efforts in the Sahel have been primarily based on its own strategic ambitions and national interests, Ankara’s growing influence offers a rare channel through which the United States and its allies could recalibrate their approaches to the region. 

The Sahel’s break with the West 

Since these coups and the establishment of military juntas in Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso, France and the United States have faced the annulment of defense agreements in the region, French and US troops have withdrawn from the region, the European Union’s Takuba Force ceased anti-Jihadist operations in Mali, and, in January, Niger revoked a counterterrorism accord with the United States, demanding the withdrawal of 1,000 US troops from the country. The United States has laws that prohibit it from assisting governments that have overthrown democratic governments, including clear guidance from the US State Department against foreign assistance to Niger, and now Washington finds itself without a clear role in the Sahel.

The region’s Western-backed security architecture has collapsed: Three withdrawals (i.e., Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger) prompted the dissolution of the Group of Five (G5) for the Sahel. The same three departures from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) has left the Sahel searching for new patrons and new strategic frameworks. Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, for example, have formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), a political and defense bloc that rejects old alignments. To fill the new defense void, alternative partners without the baggage of colonial legacy—most notably Russia and Turkey—have stepped in, offering defense cooperation without the governance conditions demanded by the West. 

The United States, which provided humanitarian aid, economic investment, and security forces to the region for roughly a decade prior to the coups, lost much of its ability to advance regional security interests when it was pushed out of the region. Its ability to monitor threats in the region and in neighboring countries like Libya, coordinate strategies with local forces, and access crucial intelligence was significantly degraded. Although US security operations in the region have been constrained by new partnerships, it still has options. Opportunities remain through indirect engagement—particularly with actors that retain both credibility on the ground and diplomatic standing in the West. Turkey is one of the only powers operating in the Sahel that meets both criteria.

Turkey’s role amid a shrinking Western presence, rising Russian influence

Turkey’s military cooperation in the Sahel draws on nearly two decades of experience positioning itself as a rising power in Africa, rooted in its 2003 ​​​​Strategic Depth​ doctrine and early initiatives like the “Strategy for the Development of Economic Relations with Africa” and the “year of Africa” in 2005—the same year it secured observer status in the African Union. Initially, Turkey relied on soft power, leveraging shared Ottoman heritage, cultural diplomacy, and economic partnerships to expand its influence. However, what began as a soft-power push—through development aid, cultural ties, and embassy openings—has evolved into a defense and infrastructure strategy, especially under President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s aim to position Turkey as a leader among emerging powers. Turkish delegations have conducted regular visits to AES capitals, striking arms and infrastructure deals while pursuing bilateral military agreements.  

At the same time, Russia, too, has made swift inroads. It is capitalizing on anti-colonial sentiment and offering support through its largest private military company, the Wagner Group, to provide “training, close protection, and counter-terrorism operations.” Through proxy forces, Russia has gained access to political influence and resource extraction in exchange for security-force training, arms deals, and protection of junta leaders. Russia’s use of proxy forces has allowed it to distance itself from Russian casualties and military failures. 

However, Russia’s war in Ukraine has slowed its operations in the Sahel. Across AES, Russian forces are stretched thin. Despite Russia’s success in stabilizing the Touadéra regime in the Central African Republic in 2021—a conflict that gave Russia defense legitimacy despite the fact that Sahel—Russian forces have largely been unsuccessful. In 2024, fifty-one percent of global terrorism-related deaths took place in the Sahel. This was the deadliest year in the Sahel’s history as the region remains mired in conflict and plagued by violent insurgencies, fragile state institutions, and waning international engagement. 

​​​​In the Sahel, Turkey can play the same role as Russia. Turkey can offer Sahelian militaries affordable, “rapidly deployable” equipment. And Russia, which has been struggling to keep up with military-industrial demands, is an increasingly unreliable partner. Sahelian clients grew more discontented with the Russian proxy forces’ unsuccessful operations and inability to fulfill weapons contracts, and the Wagner Group officially left Mali, announcing on Telegram that its mission was accomplished. In its place, Russia plans to consolidate its troops under the Russian Ministry of Defens​​​​e-backed Africa Corps. Reestablishing connections, building trust, and establishing higher capacity supply lines will take time; meanwhile, alternative partners like Turkey are in place in the Sahel and can take advantage of the Kremlin’s declining foreign-operations capacity. 

In contrast to Russia’s focus on mercenary deployments and ​​​​direct-combat missions, Turkey offers a more varied tool​ ​kit: combining diplomacy, state-to-state defense deals, economic engagement, intelligence sharing, and technology transfers. Turkey’s defense industry, particularly its drone sector, made early moves into the African market, supplying low-cost, high-capability platforms like Baykar’s Bayraktar TB2 and Akinci drones. These have become cornerstones of AES air power, and are ​​​​​often more cost-effective​ than systems from Iran, Israel, or even Russia. 

Turkey is now the main producer of combat drones for Africa, according to the Africa Center for Strategic Studies (part of the US Department of Defense). In December 2024 Mali received Turkish Akinci drones in addition to its eight TB2 drones; Niger has purchased six TB2 drones, five Karayel-SU drones, and Aksungur drones; and Burkina Faso has purchased at least six TB2s and two Turkish Akinci drones. These drones are managed and operated out of local airbases, like the Niamey air base in Niger or the Bamako Air Base 101 in Mali, and are managed by a “hyper-closed circle” of high-ranking officials. In early April 2025, Mali was also found to be using MAM-T bombs 20 kilometers from its border with Algeria when a Turkish-made Akinci drone was shot down. This was the first time the Malian armed forces were found to be using MAM-T bombs, which are guided, high-explosive fragmentation munitions that can be strapped to Bayrak drones, and are manufactured by Turkish company Roketsan

On the ground, Turkey’s engagement increasingly makes up for declining Russian power. Turkish drones and, ​​​​​​reportedly, Turkish-hired Syrian mercenaries disrupt insurgent operations in areas where state forces are absent, helping to alleviate local manpower shortages. ​​​​​Although unconfirmed, Sadat, a private Turkish military contractor often referred to as Erdogan’s “parallel army,” was alleged to have sent more than one thousand Turkish-trained Syrian mercenaries to Niger and Burkina Faso in 2024, ​​​​tasked with protecting mines, petroleum infrastructure, and military installations​. This is not the ​​first time​​ Sadat has been accused of using Syrian ​​mercenaries​​ in foreign conflicts.

Already, Turkey has increased intelligence-sharing capabilities in the region through its intelligence agency, Milli İstihbarat Teşkilatı, which recently opened a hub in Niger. Its growing network​ of embassies, companies, and security personnel across the Sahel gives Ankara access to critical information, which can influence security operations.

Turkey’s economic expansion in the Sahel

Turkey has slowly expanded its influence in the Sahel by expanding its security operations simultaneously with its commercial agreements. 

While the AES has implicitly distanced itself from former colonial powers through new security partnerships and arms contracts, the three states are also turning to alternative partners for economic support. They had perceived prior Western economic conditions as unfair and are seeking more beneficial economic relationships. After revoking mining licenses and pulling out of economic partnerships with the West, the Sahel now needs new partners to help develop its potentially lucrative energy and raw materials sectors.  

Since the 2010s, Turkey has increasingly engaged with Africa’s energy sector, leveraging its 2017 National Energy and Mining Policy to enhance its energy independence. It has signed agreements with at least seventeen African countries across North, West, and East Africa, as well as the Horn of Africa, focusing on renewables and critical minerals. Trade volumes between Turkey and Africa increased from ​​​​$5.4 billion in 2003 to $40.7 billion in 2022, and a ​​​​growing number of Turkish companies are expanding their operations in Africa. 

Turkey now has greater reason to diversify its imports away from Russia and Iran— given the disruption of trade patterns by conflicts in Ukraine, the Mediterranean, and the Middle East—and toward Africa. The Sahel’s underdeveloped energy sector offers Turkey a foothold in new supply routes and economic opportunities.  

A Turkish energy company has taken a leading role in Mali, supplying 60 megawatts of power and building a heavy fuel oil power plant. Turkish exports to Mali rose from $87 million in 2021 to $111 million in 2023. Similarly, Turkey has boosted trade with Burkina Faso, despite regulatory hurdles in the mining sector. Exports rose from less than $100 million prior to 2020 to $166 million in 2024, reflecting Ankara’s deeper economic engagement with the new military government. 

In the Sahel region, Niger has traditionally been Turkey’s strongest energy partner in the region. Turkey and Niger have signed bilateral mining agreements and oil and natural gas agreements, established a working committee​ to expand economic cooperation, and held leadership-level discussions about infrastructure development projects​ in northern Niger. Turkish firms have been uniquely willing to engage in high-volatility regions, implementing critical infrastructure, energy, and mining projects simultaneously with increased defense cooperation. 

The Sahel’s mineral wealth is critical to Turkey’s industrial ambitions and plans to become a processing hub for critical minerals. Turkey’s defense industry depends heavily on critical minerals used in advanced weaponry, aerospace systems, and batteries and, at the same time, Turkey’s rising clean technology industry has accelerated the need for lithium, nickel, copper, and other raw minerals. While Turkey is beginning to build up its raw mineral processing capabilities in an attempt to limit foreign control over critical supply chains, Ankara is in search of suppliers for these materials.  

With limited domestic reserves and rising industrial needs, Ankara is targeting the region’s large supplies of raw materials. Mali is Africa’s second-largest lithium producer; Niger is a leading exporter of uranium; and Burkina Faso is a major gold supplier. Though Turkey has domestic reserves of tungsten, graphite, and cobalt, access to the Sahel’s minerals enables Turkey to compete in global markets and develop its own processing base. 

Through diplomatic and corporate efforts, Turkey has tried to secure access to gold and uranium in Niger, the world’s seventh-largest producer of uranium; Turkish and Azerbaijani companies have discussed joint mining projects in the Sahel; and, until recently, a Turkish company held the industrial exploitation rights of the largest gold mine and the largest manganese mine in Burkina Faso. Russian companies have likewise expanded their economic presence in the Sahel; Russian companies ​​​​have signed lithium mining deals with Mali, lithium and uranium mining deals with Niger, and deals on nuclear cooperation with Burkina Faso. While Western companies have been sidelined, governments in the Sahel remain open to cooperation with both Ankara and Moscow. Turkey, as a NATO ally that retains the political space to operate in these markets, is a potential counterbalance to Russia’s growing influence while advancing its own strategic and industrial objectives.

Solution-based diplomacy in a security-first landscape

What sets Turkey apart from other external actors—especially Russia—is the diversity of its engagement. Unlike Moscow’s arms-for-access model, which is often viewed as exploitative and destabilizing, Ankara has prioritized a ​​​​multifaceted approach that includes trade, infrastructure, defense, diplomacy, and development. Turkish-African trade spans sectors from textiles to healthcare and energy, and Turkey’s public and private sectors have actively invested in education and capacity building across the continent. This “solution-based” diplomacy contrasts sharply with Russia’s security-first playbook. 

Yet Turkey’s growing presence in contested regions comes with risks. Infrastructure investments in unstable political environments require security guarantees—and that often means greater military involvement. As Ankara deepens its footprint, it must decide whether to align more openly with Russia, or to use its position to mediate and potentially counter Russian influence. 

Turkey is viewed by many African leaders as a reliable, noncolonial partner. This gives Ankara access that Western powers now lack. While Turkey has not publicly aligned with US or European policy in the Sahel, its access and credibility in the region offer an opportunity to bridge the growing gap between Western interests and Sahelian realities. 

If Ankara chooses to leverage this position, it could quietly support Western objectives—sharing intelligence, coordinating security policies, or shaping development strategies that undercut Russian influence. Turkey would not be acting as a Western proxy, but as a sovereign actor leveraging its credibility and access to serve both its own interests and those of the broader international order. In a region where Western engagement is rapidly shrinking, Turkey’s role may become indispensable—not as a rival, but as a crucial partner.

Not a proxy but a pathway: The West’s reentry point in the Sahel

The power balance between Russia and Turkey is markedly different from conflict zones where they stood or stand on opposite sides—such as Syria, Libya, Ukraine, and the Azerbaijan-Armenia conflict. In the Sahel, both powers are engaging the same postcoup regimes—Russia through mercenary-led counterinsurgency and Turkey through state-led arms deals, drone operations, and economic development. They are not in direct confrontation in the Sahel, nor are they locked in zero-sum competition. Instead, they operate in parallel, often in the same theaters and with the same governments, but with divergent methods, capabilities, and long-term goals. 

Parallel engagement between Russia and Turkey raises security concerns for Western powers who have lost their influence in the region, but it also creates a unique opening. While Russian security forces have been largely unsuccessful in their efforts to mitigate threats in the Sahel, Turkey has an opportunity to increase its engagement with local forces. And as the only Western partner force that is directly engaging with the region, Ankara can potentially disrupt Russian influence and coordinate with the West on security strategy. Its access to critical mineral assets, defense infrastructure, and high-level political relationships across the AES bloc can offer the West indirect access to a region from which it has been largely expelled. 

Since President Donald Trump returned to office at the beginning of 2025, both Washington and Ankara have shown renewed willingness to deepen their bilateral partnership on regional matters and cooperate in third countries, most notably Syria. In addition to diplomacy, including Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan and Secretary of State Marco Rubio meeting in Washington and Brussels, both capitals have continued demonstrating top-level cooperation on Syria with the trilateral gathering in Riyadh, where Trump and Erdoğan met with Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa, together with the creation of the joint Syria Working Group to further enhance closer cooperation on Syria’s reconstruction and stability efforts. This dynamism and strategic alignment can be a strong foundation for extending the US-Turkey partnership into Africa, where shared interests in stability and security could help reshape the dynamics of great​-​power competition in the region. 

Turkey’s pragmatic foreign policy is not without complications. But in the Sahel, that very pragmatism can work to the West’s advantage. If Washington moves beyond its reflexive skepticism and recognizes Turkey’s intermediary potential, the Sahel could shift from a symbol of Western retreat to a frontier of renewed influence—anchored by a partner that understands and navigates both the streets of Niamey and the corridors of NATO.

About the authors

Alp Burak Ozen is a program assistant at the Atlantic Council Turkey Program.

Haley Nelson is a Boren Scholar and a Georgetown University alumna. She is an independent geopolitical consultant with a focus on energy and infrastructure security in Eastern Europe, Central Asia, and Turkey.

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Why modernizing CAFTA-DR matters for the United States, and options for updating the trade pact https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/issue-brief/why-modernizing-cafta-dr-matters-for-the-united-states-and-options-for-updating-the-trade-pact/ Wed, 19 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=888568 Central America and the Dominican Republic are emerging as key partners for US economic security. The United States has a unique opportunity to reform its free trade agreement with the region—CAFTA-DR—to strengthen these ties.

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Bottom lines up front

  • The United States’ free trade agreement with Central America and the Dominican Republic needs updating to address digital trade, labor standards, and supply-chain rules that have evolved since it took effect in 2005.
  • Modernizing CAFTA-DR will strengthen US economic security by countering China’s influence and reducing migration pressures.
  • Three paths forward exist: full USMCA accession for CAFTA-DR members; replacing the group agreement with bespoke bilateral deals; or targeted updates to specific chapters of the original agreement.

As the US government reconsiders its trade architecture, as well as its trade network in the Western Hemisphere, updating the Central America–Dominican Republic Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA-DR) should be viewed not as a simple economic exercise, but as a strategic investment in US economic security and competitiveness. An upgraded CAFTA-DR could reinforce regional stability at a time when economic fragility, migration pressures, and external influence are converging in the United States’ near abroad.

Aligning CAFTA-DR’s standards with the more modern United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement (USMCA) framework—for example, on digital trade, labor, and supply-chain governance—would create a more coherent North American–Central American production corridor serving US industries, reducing dependence on distant suppliers, and supporting a more orderly regional economy.

China’s expanding presence in Central America and the Caribbean, via critical infrastructure investments, technology partnerships, and growing trade links, has altered regional dynamics and tried to dilute US influence. Modernizing CAFTA-DR is therefore not just an economic update; it is a geopolitical must-have to both secure supply chains and keep key trade partners aligned with the United States.

An updated CAFTA-DR could strengthen supply chain resilience by encouraging the strategic relocation of certain US light and more-labor-intensive manufacturing and by diversifying away from China-dependent networks. It would also enhance digital trade rules, environmental standards, and labor protections, all central issues on today’s economic security agenda. By refreshing these commitments, the United States could help its partners attract high-value investment, foster inclusive growth, and reduce migration pressures fueled by economic fragility.

Moreover, modernization would reaffirm Washington’s long-term commitment to shared prosperity and democratic governance. A proactive US agenda, anchored in fair trade, sustainable investment, and transparent governance, could offer a compelling alternative to China’s transactional and opaque financial approach. In short, an updated CAFTA-DR represents a strategic tool for deepening US partnerships, defending economic values, and reinforcing the hemisphere’s autonomy at a time when geopolitical competition is intensifying.

About the authors

Enrique Millán-Mejía is a senior fellow in economic development at the Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center of the Atlantic Council. He served as senior trade and investment diplomat for the government of Colombia to the United States between 2014 and 2021.

Antonio Ortiz-Mena, PhD, is a nonresident senior fellow at the Adrienne Arsht Latin America Center of the Atlantic Council. He served as head of the Trade & Economics office of the Embassy of Mexico to the United States between 2007 and 2015. He is the CEO and founder of AOM Advisors.

Rocío Rivera Barradas, PhD, is a senior advisor with AOM Advisors. She served as trade and investment diplomat of the government of Mexico to the United States, based at the Mexican Consulate in Chicago, between 2019 and 2024.

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China’s economic slowdown and spillovers to Africa https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/chinas-economic-slowdown-and-spillovers-to-africa/ Tue, 18 Nov 2025 16:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=887330 China has catalyzed new infrastructure and industries in Africa, but the continent is also exposed to negative ripple effects from changes in China’s domestic economy. This report investigates how different projections of China’s economic growth and structure over the next five years will affect trade and financial engagement with the African continent.

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Bottom lines up front

  • On balance, the best long-term outcome for Africa is likely one in which China accepts the cost of reform.
  • Demand for minerals will grow about 5 percent per year under all scenarios but only a reform scenario sees Chinese demand for African manufactures grow.
  • Chinese exports of commodities and manufactures to Africa are set to grow only 4 to 6 percent per annum in all scenarios, a marked decline from annual growth rates above 10 percent between 2020 and 2024.

Executive summary

China’s economic rise and its integration with Africa have catalyzed new infrastructure and industries across the continent. But this also now exposes African countries to negative ripple effects from changes in China’s domestic economy. As China’s investment- and manufacturing-centric economic model loses steam, African officials and policymakers will need to plan for growth and economic transformation, with an understanding that their largest trade and investment partner might look very different than it has over the past decade.  

This report investigates how different projections of China’s economic growth and structure over the next five years (through 2030) will affect trade and financial engagement with the African continent, and what these outcomes will mean for decision-makers. It deploys a novel framework to estimate how economic flows between China and Africa shift under different growth scenarios. To account for Africa’s diverse economies—spanning some of the world’s least developed countries as well as high-income financial centers—this analysis extends to country groups.

No growth scenario in China will benefit all of Africa’s nations equally. But on balance, the best long-term outcome for Africa is likely one in which China accepts the cost of reform to implement slower, but more stable, growth. While countries could previously envision the net benefits of close trading relationships with China in 2030, trade now presents both opportunity and threat: opportunity in the form of cheap imports, but complication in the form of persistent trade imbalances and overcapacity in manufacturing. Under any growth scenario, finance from China’s banks and investors will continue to decline—whether sharply or gradually—as China’s domestic financial system evolves.

Chapter 1 surveys economic conditions in Africa as of 2025, as well as how commodity markets and external imbalances make many African countries vulnerable to shifts in the global growth environment and in their economic relationships with China. Even countries with limited direct exposure to China are likely to feel the impact of a slowdown via regional economic linkages and the effect of China’s exports and imports on global prices.

Chapter 2 provides an overview of trade and financial flows between China and Africa. While the importance of individual flows varies, a few channels account for the majority of economic value: goods trade, commercial and development finance, and foreign direct investment (FDI). Baseline growth rates of these flows are used to inform projections in the later analysis.

Of these, the goods trade represents the largest scope of bilateral engagement between China and the African continent, approaching $300 billion annually as of 2024, or about 10 percent of Africa’s gross domestic product (GDP). However, imbalances driven by structural characteristics of the two economies have intensified in recent years. Despite recent attempts to diversify trade, African countries still have large trade deficits, mostly exporting commodities to China and importing manufactured goods. China’s mode of finance mixes concessional and commercial motives, and new financial flows are slowing as lenders look to control risk. The result has been that China is collecting more in debt service payments than it is disbursing in new loan finance.

China’s outbound financial activity, which recovered after COVID-19 downturns, is now more diverse in both its form and its targets. New annual FDI flows from China now exceed new lending from China to African countries ($6 billion in annual deals as of 2023, according to Rhodium Group data). Portfolio flows are still small. Estimated total Chinese portfolio investment amounted to only $1.6 billion as of June 2024, which remains concentrated in economies with more developed financial markets, such as South Africa and Egypt. The differences in scale between these flows influence the channels through which China’s growth effects will be most keenly felt.

To evaluate the impact on African economies of spillovers from China’s growth slowdown, Chapter 3 establishes a baseline of economic conditions in China. The real question to determine China’s future growth is whether it manages to reform its investment-driven system or stagnate on its current path. To evaluate both of these possibilities, we evaluate the economic assumptions of China’s growth scenarios—and from there, the impacts on African countries— through 2030, using three different perspectives.

  • The International Monetary Fund (IMF) scenario: In its official World Economic Outlook (WEO) projections, the IMF forecasts growth of 3.4 percent by 2030.
  • The reform scenario: China begins to successfully rebalance toward a consumer-oriented economy and the country’s economic growth slows in the short term before rising to a more sustainable rate of around 4 percent by 2030.
  • The stagnation scenario: Beijing’s reform efforts flounder and China’s economy grinds slower and slower. Growth slows to 2.5 percent by 2030.

Chapter 4 assesses outcomes for African economies, based on the growth scenarios laid out in Chapter 3 for China through 2030. The impacts of growth projections are evaluated for goods trade across four product groups of Chinese imports from Africa (oil, minerals, agricultural products, and manufactured goods) and two product groups of Chinese exports to Africa (manufactured goods and commodities). Impacts on key outbound financial flows from China to Africa are also evaluated, including lending, portfolio flows, and FDI. Several key takeaways arise from this analysis.

  • Across different scenarios, China’s oil imports from Africa are likely to decline due to growing electric vehicle adoption and clean power generation capacity, but they hold up best in scenarios in which China’s structural reforms are limited.
  • China’s non-oil mineral imports will likely grow quickly under all scenarios, but demand might shift among mineral products, with different implications for different African countries. Commodities such as iron ore and those used in clean tech sectors are core inputs for a variety of China’s manufacturing industries. As a result, the projected growth of China’s mineral demand is strong across all scenarios.
  • African manufactured and agricultural goods do best in a reforming China, where an empowered consumer base spends more on foodstuffs and African-made manufactured goods such as clothing. In the stagnation scenario, and to a lesser extent, the IMF scenario, weak Chinese demand and expanding manufacturing output and trade surplus suppress demand for African manufactured goods. Growth of China’s agricultural imports is projected to be strong under all three scenarios. In the reform scenario, growth projections are highest for both agriculture and manufacturing imports. As Chinese household consumption grows, industrial upgrading in China will move out of lower value-added industries, letting African manufacturers capture more market share.
  • All three scenarios project that lending to Africa will be stronger than other forms of finance. Chinese lenders will still need to refinance and support their existing obligations despite tightening constraints on their balance sheets.
  • Under all three scenarios, the growth of FDI to Africa is projected to continue at modest levels over the next five years. Chinese FDI in Africa is heavily concentrated in capital-intensive sectors that are stickier and more often linked to policy goals, such as control of critical minerals and other essential inputs used by Chinese manufacturers.

Chapter 5 concludes by assessing the potential impacts of each scenario by country group. While oil exporters and “traditional” mineral and commodity metal exporters would paradoxically benefit from a “stagnating” China that maximized oil consumption, this would not be a net benefit to the rest of the continent. Instead, a reforming China—better positioned to resolve trade and financial imbalances, and to drive consumption of Africa’s exports—offers the best prospects overall for a larger group of African countries.

  • For transition mineral exporters, demand for Africa’s critical minerals is likely to persist regardless of scenario, as these sectors will remain a core focus of China’s (and other countries’) national economic strategies. It is more difficult to predict outcomes for low-income countries even if they are less exposed to commodity markets, where much depends on regional transmission of spillovers. Though China’s aid and development finance are far from the only considerations for policymakers in this group, they are not guaranteed to rise even in a high-growth scenario. For the middle-income group as well, much depends on the balance between surging Chinese exports and opportunities to capture investment from China. A reform scenario is their best bet.

Read the full report

About the authors

Matthew Mingey is an Associate Director with Rhodium Group, focusing on China’s economic diplomacy and outward investment, including development finance. Matthew is based in Washington, DC. Previously, he worked on global governance issues at the World Bank. Matthew received a Master’s degree in Global Business and Finance from Georgetown University’s Walsh School of Foreign Service and a Bachelor’s degree from the University of Pennsylvania.

Jeremy Smith is a Research Analyst with Rhodium Group’s China practice, focusing on China’s evolving growth dynamics and economic engagement with the world. Jeremy previously worked at S&P Global, where he performed macroeconomic forecasting and sovereign risk analysis for countries in Latin America and the Caribbean. Prior to that, he was a James C. Gaither Junior Fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Jeremy received a master’s degree from the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, concentrating in international economics and China studies. He also earned a graduate certificate from the Hopkins-Nanjing Center and a bachelor’s degree from Williams College.

Laura Gormley is a Senior Research Analyst with Rhodium Group’s China Projects Team, focusing on China’s innovation ecosystem and external economic engagement. Prior to joining Rhodium Group, she was a research assistant with the Global Development Policy Center – Global China Initiative at Boston University, where she contributed to the Center’s work on China’s development finance and decarbonizing the Belt and Road Initiative. Laura holds a Master’s degree in Global Policy from Boston University’s Pardee School of Global Studies and a Bachelor’s degree from McGill University.

Acknowledgements

This report was written by Matthew Mingey, Laura Gormley, and Jeremy Smith, with support from the Atlantic Council GeoEconomics Center’s Charles Lichfield and Jessie Yin.

Rhodium Group and the GeoEconomics Center wish to thank the colleagues, fellow analysts, and reviewers who shared their ideas and perspectives with us during the writing process and helped us strengthen the study in review sessions and individual consultations. Our gratitude goes out to Daniel Rosen and Josh Lipsky.

This project was made possible thanks to the philanthropic support of Carnegie Corporation of New York.

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Building the digital front line: Understanding big tech decision-making in Ukraine https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/building-the-digital-front-line/ Mon, 17 Nov 2025 15:35:11 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=886781 In this report, author Emma Schroeder examines which factors most shaped tech companies’ decisions as to whether and how to lend their support to Ukraine throughout the war.

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Table of contents

Executive summary

The war in Ukraine has seen Russia launch and sustain a full-scale invasion across the information and physical domains against a country that has embraced technological development and increased technological and geopolitical connections to the United States, Canada, and Europe. Private technology companies have provided essential and often irreplaceable support to Ukraine following Russia’s invasion in 2022 and—especially in the early months of the conflict—did so largely without a request from an allied state or payment from Ukraine.

However, more than three years on, although the private sector’s assistance in Ukraine has been well-documented, the policymaking community at large is still largely unaware of how companies decided whether and how to provide technological support to and in Ukraine. Through open research as well as interviews and roundtable discussions with various private sector and government representatives, this report posits that companies were primarily motivated by a complex combination of factors in tandem, which pulled them toward or pushed them away from support. The factors pulling companies toward cooperation were the moral clarity of the conflict, and alignment with existing business opportunities. At the same time however, among factors pushing companies away from involvement in Ukraine was the difficulty of coordinating assistance in-country, as well as the risk of Russian retaliation. Meanwhile, both sets of factors were either enhanced—or mitigated—due to various actions taken by Ukraine, allied states, and international bodies. This includes Ukrainian tech diplomacy; the development of Ukraine’s technical capabilities; aid facilitations and coordination efforts by both various groups and entities; and risk mitigation efforts undertaken by both states and private companies.

Dependency on the private sector in the cyber domain has become a somewhat frequent refrain in domestic cybersecurity conversations. However, prior to the February 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, no one—not supranational bodies, states, or even companies themselves—was prepared for the role they would assume once the tanks rolled and the missiles fired.  The Russia-Ukraine conflict’s cyber dimension has revealed an underlying dependency on products, services, and infrastructure owned and operated by private companies. This has proved to be both a source of opportunity to enhance Ukraine’s defenses, while at the same time revealing fundamental risks and vulnerabilities. Given the heft and impact of technology companies in today’s digital infrastructure, let alone in conflict, it is essential that policymakers grasp this complex interplay of factors that influenced companies‘ decision-making as they headed in Ukraine, to inform planning or preparedness for future conflicts where the private sector will inevitably play a key role.

Introduction

Amid the Russia-Ukraine conflict, the private sector was and is a crucial line of defense and source of cyber resilience to a greater extent than any conflict previously observed. As the first case study of this phenomenon in an overt, conventional war, the past three years in Ukraine have clearly demonstrated how crucial the cyber and informational domain, and the private companies at its forefront, will be in competition, conflict, and war to come.

More than three years following the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in the early morning of February 24, 2022, the war—and the crucial role of the international community in it—continues, but not unchanged. The war that Putin expected to end in Russian victory within a handful of days is now well into the third year of the largest and deadliest war in Europe since World War II.

This study examines the characteristics of this conflict that influenced companies’ decision-making regarding the type and degree of their involvement in Ukraine. Which factors and actions taken by states shaped tech companies’ decisions throughout the conflict as to whether and how to lend their support to Ukraine? These include both pull factors, those that increased the likeliness and degree of technology company involvement in Ukraine, and push factors, those that decreased the likeliness or degree of the same. Additionally, a key element influencing this space was the response by the Ukrainian government, allied governments, and international bodies to either build on the effects of the pull factors or mitigate the effects of the push factors throughout the conflict.

These factors and reactions are explored through open research, individual interviews with executives from tech companies active in Ukraine,1 and workshop discussions including private sector, civil society, and representatives from various governments. It puts forward the private sector’s perspective on its own involvement in Ukraine since the 2022 invasion, reflecting on opinions and actions as they stood at the time of initial decision but also on the lessons learned since. The intention is to contribute to a baseline of understanding of public-private cooperation in Ukraine so that future policy decisions, whether in the Ukraine context or beyond, are built upon a full evaluation of experience.

Pull factors

Clarity of conflict

Clarity of conflict refers to the perception of the “right” and “wrong” or “victim” and “perpetrator” in a conflict, among one or more set audiences, whose support has the potential to provide materiel aid. In examining the role of this factor in the provision of tech aid to Ukraine, these audiences are primarily state policymakers, general populations, and technology leaders in Europe and North America. Overwhelmingly, in both public reporting and private interviews, the central reason given by companies themselves for why private companies provide aid and services supporting Ukraine is the moral clarity that these companies, their employees, and a large portion of their customers saw in the conflict and its conduct. Many interviewed commented on how the Russo-Ukrainian War, distinct from most other conflicts, has a clear and binary “right” and “wrong” side in the perspective of at least most of the Western world, from governments to individuals. 

Russia engaged in continuous overt and covert aggressive action through a wide variety of coercive, though largely nonescalatory, tools in an attempt to exert control on Ukraine and its population. On February 24, 2022, however, Russia unleashed coordinated missile strikes on Ukrainian cities, airborne deployments of soldiers to key locations beyond the border region, conventional advancement across the border, and coordinated cyber aggression.

In March 2022, Amnesty International released a statement saying, in part, that “In less than a week, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has triggered a massive human rights, humanitarian, and displacement crisis that has the makings of the worst such catastrophe in recent European history.”2 Photos and videos poured out of Ukraine, documenting Russian violence and war crimes against the people of that country. Reports on Russian atrocities and Ukrainian resistance dominated the headlines and news discussions in the West for months.  A Monmouth University survey conducted in March 2022 found that 89 percent of Americans believed that Russia’s actions in Ukraine were not justified.3 Similarly, a poll of public perceptions of responsibility for war, taken across ten European countries showed that a clear majority in all countries attribute the primary responsibility to Russia.4

During these early months of 2022 the private sector quickly became an essential pillar of support for the Ukrainian war effort. As one expert put it, “If you had ordered a generic villain, you would have gotten Putin. From a moral standpoint, it was really easy for companies to take a stand, you have a moral highpoint.”5 Russia’s long decade of slowly escalating violence toward Ukraine, culminating in a brutal conventional assault and now, yearslong war, created an unusually stark geopolitical environment in which both Western states and the majority of their populations not only supported the defense of Ukraine but did so enthusiastically.

Across interviews and roundtable discussions, industry experts demonstrated an appreciation of the clarity of the “right” and “wrong” in the case of Ukraine. Nearly every private sector individual interviewed highlighted the importance of this factor in determining whether and how their company decided to begin or deepen its involvement in Ukraine following the invasion. One expert from a leading tech company said that “This was the easiest of all scenarios I could imagine for the private sector to seek to help an entity like Ukraine. The clarity on the conflict made the decision to assist Ukraine clear.”6 As several experts attested, much of the cyber aid provided to Ukraine required technical expertise that was not only limited to a few companies but also limited to a relatively small population of skilled individuals. At this level of analysis, the degree of available assistance had to take into account the bandwidth and possible burnout risk for these individuals as well as a strong, prevalent reluctance to work with a government or, especially, a military. The perceived clarity of the war in Ukraine, however, was critical to overcoming these concerns—at least for a while.7

Reaction – Ukrainian tech diplomacy

Tech diplomacy is the engagement between state authorities and tech companies, civil society organizations, other states, and multilateral fora to influence the development of both technology itself and the policy that surrounds it.8 Within the early days of the conflict, members of the Ukrainian government and especially the Minister for Digital Transformation Mykhailo Fedorov, rallied for aid across the technology sector. These calls, and the generally positive reception to them, built on arguments regarding the clarity of the conflict. Although this tech diplomacy has been the project of various Ukrainian officials and offices, both before the 2022 invasion and in the years since, a focus in on Fedorov is illustrative of the Ukrainian approach to cultivating and extracting mutual benefit from relationships with international technology companies.

In 2019, Fedorov was tapped as deputy prime minister and minister of digital transformation and was subsequently named deputy prime minister for innovation, education, science and technology and minister for digital transformation and most recently first deputy prime minister of Ukraine—minister of digital transformation of Ukraine.9 Fedorov and his team have been adept, according to government affairs executive from a US-based multinational technology corporation, at creating and using “carrots and sticks” to influence company leadership and employees to more favorably view Ukraine and to augment their willingness to contribute to its defense.10

Fedorov cultivated a strong social media presence with an audience both within Ukraine and across Europe and North America. He emphasized the importance of social media platforms—using primarily English to connect with an international audience—to bring awareness to the dire situation in Ukraine. He pointed to the social media platform X (formerly Twitter), saying it “has become an efficient tool that we are using to counter Russian military aggression.”11 In efforts like United24, the Ukrainian government’s official fundraising platform, which began with Fedorov tweeting the government’s crypto wallet addresses with an ask for donations,12 he saw it not just as a fundraising tool, but as a tool that is “keeping people around the world aware of what is going on in Ukraine.”13 Crowdfunding efforts, even if donations are small, make people feel that their contributions are making a difference and fosters a closer relationship between that person and the Ukraine regardless of the distance.

Fedorov leveraged this engaged global audience to incentivize company action, effectively mobilizing his audience’s attention. A look at Fedorov’s social media presence shows a clear pattern of this strategy in action. Between March 2022 and July 2024, Fedorov posted fifty-two requests for aid from specific companies, celebrated companies and individuals taking positive action, and called out companies engaging in business practices that he deemed detrimental to Ukrainian defense efforts. These posts served as additional public acknowledgement of the contributions of specific companies to Ukraine in a global public forum that other states were watching, as were individuals, aid organizations, and companies. One tech executive explained that not only did these callouts serve as thanks, they also leveraged the competitive nature of these companies that “one up” each other with aid as an additional driver.14

The Starlink case provides an interesting example of this strategy in action. Fedorov tagged Elon Musk in an X post and asked him directly to instruct SpaceX to provide Ukraine with Starlink stations, calling him out for trying to “colonize Mars” instead of helping civilians on Earth.15 Musk responded publicly on X less than twelve hours later that, “Starlink Service is now active in Ukraine. More terminals en route.” Two days later these stations, which would come to serve critical functions for civilians, government entities, and even military personnel, arrived. Fedorov again publicly responded on X with a photo of a truck full of terminals saying, “Starlink – here. Thanks, @elonmusk.”16

According to Fedorov’s deputy minister, Alex Bornyakov, in the months leading up to the Russian invasion, Fedorov’s office was unable to secure a meeting with Elon Musk. However, SpaceX President and COO Gwynne Shotwell indicated in March of 2022 that the company had been coordinating with Ukraine as part of its European expansion effort for several weeks before the invasion and were awaiting final approval from the Ukrainian government.  According to Shotwell, “they tweeted at Elon and so we turned it on … that was our permission. That was the letter from the minister. It was a tweet.17 These early interactions show that at the very least, Fedorov’s social media engagement functioned as a nontraditional method to accelerate the provision and delivery of essential technical equipment that would enable connectivity for civilians, government entities, and even military units.18

Six months before the February 2022 invasion, Fedorov went on a tech diplomacy tour to Silicon Valley, intent on building stronger relationships with key technology companies with Ukraine’s digital transformation on the agenda. Fedorov‘s tech diplomacy work laid a solid foundation for coordination between the Ukrainian government and these technology companies by the time the war began. These relationships and Fedorov and his ministry’s direct approach with private companies meant that his office could seek solutions in the private sector directly and more swiftly than in traditional government acquisition. For example, in less than a month, a new and improved air raid alert system was implemented across the country as a result of a direct and informal conversation between Ajax Systems Chief Marketing Officer Valentine Hrytsenko, Deputy Minister of Digital Transformation Valeriya Ionan, and a team of digital transformation officers.19 

Therefore, Ukraine’s approach to tech diplomacy represents a significant shift in how states, especially small or mid-power states, should conceptualize and shape their relationships with technology companies. Given that global technology companies’ (“big tech”) yearly revenue continually overshadows the gross domestic product (GDP) of many states,20 this evolution in states’ relationships with big corporations suggests that corporate ties are sometimes more important than a state’s relationship with another state. This was echoed in a statement from the Danish government, recognizing the extent to which technological disruption affects societal and geopolitical change, nothing that the companies driving that innovation “have become extremely influential; to the extent that their economic and political power match—or even surpass—that of our traditional partners, the nation states.”21 Fedorov’s actions therefore proved the importance of tech diplomacy as a key government priority to secure the cooperation of the tech sector in a crisis, aided by the moral clarity that many companies saw in assisting Ukraine in a time of war.

Business alignment

For companies examining whether and how to provide tech-based support to Ukraine in its defense, business alignment can take a variety of forms, but typically refers to some combination of benefits that the company receives from these activities. Although the primary driver cited publicly for tech companies’ involvement has been the desire to aid Ukraine, their customers, and employees in Ukraine against blatant Russian aggression, another factor in companies’ decision-making was in fact how the provision of assistance to Ukraine fit into and supported the overall health and security of their organizations. This included the character of preexisting relationships with both Ukraine and Russia, direct financial profit, and indirect benefits such as instructive experience, field-testing products, and reputational benefits.​

Preexisting relationships

The Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 was not the start of the conflict between the two nations, nor was it the beginning of technology companies’ relationships with Ukraine and Russia. The nature and tone of these relationships provided a key foundation for these companies’ decisions throughout the post-2022 conflict. Ukraine and Russia, both as partners and as markets, had different starting points and were also on different active trajectories that informed the types and depth of engagement that tech companies wished to have with each country, both individually and comparatively.

One of the primary motivations cited for company involvement in Ukraine after the Russian invasion was the simple fact that many of these companies were already active in Ukraine to some extent and their leadership felt a responsibility to protect its employees and continue to serve its customers within Ukraine. For example, threat intelligence companies like Mandiant and CrowdStrike had been engaged in Ukraine since at least 2014, actively tracking cyber espionage, influence, and attack operations, while companies like Microsoft and Google were actively building capacity in the country despite Ukraine’s prohibitions on cloud services. In 2020, Google opened its second research and development center in Ukraine and Microsoft signed a memorandum of understanding with Ukraine’s Ministry of Digital Transformation to include a $500 million investment to build two data centers.22

Several private sector and government representatives conveyed in private interviews that one of companies’ greatest concerns in the first few weeks of the conflict was the safety of their employees in Ukraine.23 Many companies set up or contributed to programs intended to help employees leave the country, if they wished, or to provide protection measures for those who remained.24 Additionally, companies with existing customers in Ukraine saw their mission as largely unchanged, seeking to serve their customers regardless of their location.25 Companies with these preexisting relationships had more reason to continue or expand their work in the country due to these long-term connections.

By contrast, many of these companies also had preexisting, albeit weaker, ties with and in Russia. According to a 2024 report from the Center for Security and Emerging Technology, however, of the eighteen US tech companies that provided “direct assistance on the battlefield and/or services to maintain critical infrastructure or government functions,” none had “significant economic or financial linkages to Russia.”26 While Ukraine had undertaken concerted steps to foster mutually beneficial relationships, Russia had been largely coercive. The Kremlin in the years before the 2022 reinvasion sought to tighten control over the Russian information space and exert influence over international tech companies’ activities in Russia. For example, in 2021 Russia passed a law requiring large technology companies with a presence in the Russian market to establish Russian offices registered with the Federal Service for Supervision of Communications, Information Technology, and Mass Media, commonly known as Roskomnadzor, or risk severe punitive measures.27 Some in the industry viewed the move as an attempt to blackmail tech companies into complying with Russian censorship.28 Google was one such target of these coercive measures—in a push to force Google to censor the content available on its platforms within Russia, Russian authorities seized the company’s bank accounts. In response, Google’s Russian subsidiary declared bankruptcy and ceased all but its free services within Russia.29

Amplified by the clarity of conflict discussed above, and Ukrainian tech diplomacy efforts for companies to sever financial ties with Russia and the Russian market, the decision calculus for these companies was less complex than it may have been otherwise.

Not all companies chose to leave the Russian market completely. Despite the coercion that Google faced, the company chose to keep YouTube available in Russia; however, without ads for users in Russia and without the ability to monetize content that would “exploit, dismiss, or condone Russia’s war in Ukraine.”30 As discussed previously, many companies decided to continue services in Ukraine out of an obligation to existing customers. Depending on the company and the type of product sold or service provided, this same motivation was seen with respect to Russia as well. One tech executive explained that some of these products and services remained active because they provided a benefit to the Russian public, as opposed to the Russian government. For example, YouTube remained partially active, with restrictions, so that the platform could continue to serve as an alternate source of information for Russians.31

Direct profit

For companies, both those with an existing presence in Ukraine and those without, providing technical services in and to Ukraine could also serve more clear-cut business interests. Some were at least partially motivated by direct financial gain like new paid contracts and revenue potential such as additional value generated through the delivery of services and the possibility of positive publicity for the company or their products.

Although much of private companies’ work in Ukraine was (or started as) free of charge, many others were acquired in a more traditional contractual manner, with either Ukraine or an allied government footing the bill. Company representatives said in several interviews and roundtables that while they wish to continue their work in the country, as the war continues, they will require financial support to do so.32

Indirect benefit

Some of the tech companies active in Ukraine derived value from the very act of providing a service itself, with indirect gains that included instructive experience with Russian cyber operations, the ability to field-test products, and reputational benefits.

For more than a decade, many multinational threat intelligence companies have been tracking Russian cyber aggression in Ukraine as part of their core function. These services helped to drive the development of Ukrainian cyber infrastructure, but it was not solely a charitable effort. It was in these companies own interests to gain the closest possible insights into areas like Ukraine that experience a high degree and sophistication of cyberattacks. As a result, these companies sowed valuable intelligence from their experience, and improved their business offerings across the board. As one executive in threat intelligence at a US cybersecurity nonprofit put it: “for threat intelligence companies, having this depth of access is a gold mine, the details delivered out of Ukraine on Russian tactics, techniques, and procedures (TTPs) are quite amazing.”33

These benefits are not only limited to threat intelligence companies. Companies that run active platforms used by and in Ukraine, such as cloud platforms, also gained greater direct experience against Russian cyber operations. As one executive put it, “while acting as a shield, [these] companies are collecting vast intelligence that can be used to improve their products and protect all their customers.”34 The experience of defending against Russian activity at that scale and volume served as training of sorts for companies’ cybersecurity teams.

Both representatives from private companies and the Ukrainian government cited an additional benefit to working in Ukraine during the current war: it served as a testing ground for technology. As Fedorov stated, Ukraine “is the best test ground for all the newest tech … because here you can test them in real-life conditions.”35 Several company executives privately seconded this notion, saying that alongside their company’s desire to do the right thing, their work in Ukraine provided proof of concept for their capabilities.36 Ukraine also offered a means to demonstrate to potential customers the effectiveness of their offerings. Founding partner of Green Flag Ventures Deborah Fairlamb said at a European defense conference that “no one would even look at a product unless it had ‘Tested in Ukraine’ stamped on it.”37 During a roundtable conversation, a company executive said that governments were more likely, having seen a company’s work in Ukraine, to purchase their products and trust that they are secure.38

Finally, companies working actively in Ukraine were also motivated by the benefits to public perception and reputation. Popular support of Ukraine meant that companies’ support may have improved their reputation by association. In a TIME article from early 2024, author Vera Bergengruen argued that this reputational concern was part of Palantir’s decision calculus for its work in Ukraine, by helping to dispel characterization of the company’s work as a tool to support intrusive government surveillance. This would situate Palantir’s work in Ukraine among its similar efforts to “shed its reputation as a shadowy data-mining spy contractor.”39 Clearview AI’s reputational concerns also likely motivated its assistance to Ukraine. The company was sanctioned multiple times throughout Europe for privacy violations and was lambasted in a 2020 New York Times article for its controversial use by law enforcement and private companies to track people through AI-enabled facial recognition.40 Nevertheless, the company received an outpouring of positive press following public announcements that Ukraine  was using this same AI-enabled facial recognition software to identify Russian soldiers, including deceased soldiers and those suspected of committing war crimes in Ukraine.41 Whether trying to capitalize on a positive reputation or counter negative perceptions, companies benefit from their association with a cause popular across their customer base.

Reaction – Ukrainian technical capability and posture

In both the buildup to war and the conduct of it, some companies with interest in setting up operations in or with Ukraine were reluctant      to do so out of concern regarding Ukraine’s ability to act as a capable and trustworthy recipient of goods and services. Executives working in threat intelligence and information security at US-based multinational technology companies have pointed to corruption in Ukraine as a barrier to engagement prior to the invasion and a factor that was carefully considered when deciding how to provide aid in Ukraine.42 This challenge is openly acknowledged in Ukraine’s Anti-Corruption Strategy for 2021-25, which states that “corruption prevalence and distrust in the judiciary are the key obstacles to attracting foreign investment to Ukraine.”43

To mitigate these factors, Ukraine and its partners have invested heavily over the past decade to take on corruption and build out legal, economic, and technical frameworks to transform Ukraine so as to make it a more appealing target for assistance and cooperation from the public and private sectors. According to Alex Bornyakov, Ukraine’s deputy minister of digital transformation, Ukraine’s sought to develop “the largest IT hub in Eastern Europe with the fastest growing GDP, industrial parks, and its own security-focused ‘Silicon Valley.’”44

Anti-corruption efforts

The Ukrainian government’s commitment to anti-corruption efforts has been an important factor for the success of the process, which began well before the buildup of Russian tanks on its border. According to the 2025 Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) Integrity and Anti-Corruption Review of Ukraine, since 2013 Ukraine “significantly reformed its anti-corruption framework to fight what were then historically high corruption levels in the country.”45

Ukraine’s public and private IT sectors have long been a breeding ground for software acquisition-related fraud, a scheme in which an individual reports the purchase of a legitimate software license but actually buys a pirated or outdated version of that software and pockets the difference. Before 2014, approximately 80 percent of Ukrainian government and private entities were using network software that had either never been or was no longer supported by the associated software vendor,46 making Ukraine a difficult and unappealing market for software vendors.

In 2014, anti-corruption activists started the ProZorro project, which over the past decade moved public sector procurement, including that of IT infrastructure, to a central platform built around the tenets of transparency, efficiency, and cross-sector collaboration and competition.47 According to a report by Dr. Robert Peacock, through the use of ProZorro and other anti-corruption efforts, senior officials at Ukraine’s State Special Communications Service estimated that “the share of pirated and unsupported software on the country’s networks had dropped from more than 80 percent in 2014 to only 20 percent in 2020.”48

As the conflict in Ukraine escalated into a full-scale war, Ukraine’s anti-corruption efforts became even more urgent and essential. For example, UNITED24, the country’s official fundraising platform to fund the Ukrainian war effort that has raised approximately $350 million since the beginning of the war, sends money directly into transparent national accounting systems depending on the choice of the donor, with the leading global accounting firm Deloitte auditing platform.49 In addition, in the first year of the war Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and his government dismissed several high-ranking government officials based on allegations of corruption. This included two of the top Ukrainian cyber officials after they were accused of participated in corrupt procurement practices. According to the country’s National Anti-Corruption Bureau, the accused allegedly embezzled $1.7 million between 2020 and 2022 through fraudulent software acquisition.50 The Ukrainian government’s efforts  largely mitigated companies’ concerns regarding corruption, and those companies that cited corruption as a barrier to working with Ukraine have since commenced programming previously denied to Ukraine on those grounds.51

For a private company to make the decision to invest more heavily in Ukraine, the benefits—financial or otherwise—must outweigh the risks. By addressing corruption within the government, and especially tech-related corruption, the Ukrainian government effectively diminished the weight of this factor in companies’ overall decision calculus. Crucially, such efforts take time to implement and yet more time to create meaningful change. Had these anti-corruption programs not been well underway before 2022, the question of corruption may have significantly deterred companies from deeper involvement in Ukraine.

Ukraine turns toward tech

Instead of sowing distrust in the idea of cyberspace as a safe space for economic and even government services, the past decade of Russian aggression against Ukraine in cyberspace motivated Ukraine to invest heavily in that space and turn its former weakness into a newfound strength. It could even be said that the continuous Russian aggression against Ukraine, through cyberspace and otherwise, helped Ukraine to better defend itself against Russia. Before the 2022 Russian invasion and even more so since, the Ukrainian government sees a flourishing technology sector within Ukraine as a key component to the economic strength of the country.52 However, to foster such a flourishing tech environment, Ukraine needed to first invest in its legal and economic foundations.

As a response to escalating Russian aggression in 2014, Ukraine began what would be an intensive decade of government reform and policy advancement on cyber issues. The figure below highlights various investment and development programs aimed at enhancing Ukrainian technological capacity, including efforts of the Ukrainian government itself and in partnership with various international entities such as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and the US Agency for International Development (USAID).

These, among other efforts, were essential steps to creating and expanding a technologically capable and developed Ukraine. Especially important was the increased relative cybersecurity of the Ukrainian digital environment, the development of Ukraine’s cyber workforce and general cyber literacy, and an influx of capital enabling increased investment in private sector tools and services.

On the economic front, the Ukrainian government made strides to create an attractive environment for investment. The government’s mission has been to shift the conversation from purely one of donations and aid to a direct appeal to the companies’ more pecuniary concerns. According to Bornyakov, “The best way to help Ukraine is to invest in Ukraine.”53 This call is both international and domestic. The Ukrainian government has implemented a number of projects and programs dedicated to fostering the local tech ecosystem. As of December 2024, the IT sector accounted for 4.4 percent of Ukraine’s GDP and 38 percent of the country’s total service exports. Much of this technological energy is being dedicated back to the war effort—according to a report compiled in cooperation with the Ministry of Digital Transformation of Ukraine, 97 percent of Ukrainian IT companies are “actively supporting projects that contribute” to Ukrainian defense.54

Diia City in particular, launched just two weeks before the invasion, is a tool intentionally designed to make it easier and more appealing for foreign companies to set up and run operations within Ukraine. Diia City is a “virtual free economic zone for tech companies in Ukraine” that offers a variety of legal and tax benefits.55 The connected Brave1 initiative launched in early 2023 to “create a fast track for innovation in the defense and security sectors,” especially those projects of high importance to Ukrainian military leadership, such as “drones, robotic systems, electronic warfare, artificial intelligence tools, cybersecurity, communications, and information security management systems.”56

These efforts, both domestic and international, bolstered the defense of Ukraine by building and demonstrating trustworthiness, capability, and economic value for the private sector. In other words, the political and economic engine driving technological development in Ukraine was composed of more than a decade of concentrated action from Ukraine and its international partners, and was in place well before tanks began rolling across the borders. This vital work ultimately helped to bring about conducive conditions for private sector investment or provision of services, as long-term structural factors indirectly shaping company decision-making to aid Ukraine.

Push factors

Difficulty of coordination

Difficulty of coordination refers to the friction that private companies experienced along the lifecycle of technical assistance to Ukraine—from understanding which products or services would be impactful, knowing who to coordinate with and how, or the logistics of providing that assistance. Friction, as in all domains of warfare, is the imposition of the constraints of reality upon one’s plans and impulses, and therefore each additional complexity that stands between a certain technology and its use in Ukraine increases the likelihood that that desired provision will not occur, will take longer, or will be provided in a less helpful form.

One of the most persistent hindrances to the provision of tech-related assistance from private companies in Ukraine was the difficulties that all parties involved faced, which was to effectively coordinate the assistance available with the assistance that Ukraine needed most in a fast-moving and high-pressure environment, particular as more Ukrainian organizations expressed a need for more threat intelligence, licenses, or training for tools. In almost every conversation with industry representatives about their experience in this space raised this coordination problem. The factors that most significantly impacted coordination effectiveness included whether a company had a preexisting presence in or relationship with Ukraine, the clarity with which Ukraine communicated its technical needs, and the ability to assess the effectiveness and impact of products or services provided.57 

Especially in the early months of the full-scale Russian war, much of the assistance that private tech companies provided was coordinated by companies themselves and in a largely ad hoc manner. In addition, Ukraine experienced communications challenges such as a lack of secure channels or limited visibility into networks and infrastructure on the ground.58 Companies that did not have a strong relationship with the Ukrainian public sector prior to the conflict found that direct coordination was difficult to establish once the conflict had begun.59 For some, not having a direct relationship with or in Ukraine had been an intentional choice, due to regulation complexity or corruption concerns.60 Initially, companies without a preexisting presence often struggled to pinpoint the correct office or person with which to speak. They bridged this gap most often with some combination of brand recognition driving direct outreach from the Ukrainian government and facilitation by Ukrainian private companies that had established relationships with international tech companies and could act as middlemen.61

Even in cases of existing relationships within Ukraine, complexities abound for companies. A threat intel executive indicated that, for many, there is a tension between what companies thought they could provide and what the Ukrainian government knew about its own needs. While Ukraine was effective in communicating its technical needs at the tactical level, according to various company representatives, effective coordination was somewhat hampered by their ability to effectively communicate and coordinate technical assistance needs across government at a strategic level lagged behind.62

An additional point of friction was the high degree of difficulty in deconflicting the assistance provided to Ukraine from different companies. Understandably, the Ukrainian government—and various individuals and agencies working within it—were responding to imminent threats and thus would send out the same or similar requests to various companies in the hope that one would respond.63 This meant that at times various companies were devoting time and resources to developing an assistance measure that was not actually needed and would not be implemented, or if it was in part, had a lesser relative impact on Ukrainian defense because of duplicative measures. This inability to understand and plan around the impact of assistance was broader than just the duplication issue; dozens of company representatives reported difficulties in getting a clear view as to whether their assistance was actually effective once provided.64

Without this data, future requests for and fulfillments of technical aid will continue to be based on theory rather than evidence from their growing experiences together. A 2024 paper from the Cyber Defense Assistance Collaborative (CDAC) and Columbia School of International and Public Affairs, made strides in its effort to collate and assess the effectiveness of those companies and organizations that provided cyber defense assistance to Ukraine through their program. The report identified both direct indicators, where effectiveness can be assessed via concrete measures, and proxy indicators, where possible contributing factors are assessed on a scale of perceived impact.65

Reaction – Ukrainian coordination and adaptation

On top of domestic development efforts, Ukrainian government officials spent concerted time and effort to build relationships that would serve as the foundation for future cooperation. Fedorov‘s tech diplomacy work forged new connections with these companies, as well as their leadership and employee bases, that in many ways enabled the speed of company response following Russia’s February 2022 invasion. “When the invasion began, we had personal connections to these companies,” Fedorov said. “They knew who we are, what we look like, what our values are and our mission is.”66

According to Fedorov, in the first month of the war he sent “more than4,000 requests to companies, governments, and other organizations, each one personally signed.”67 Some of these connections built on existing relationships, but companies without preestablished links either initiated conversations directly with or received direct requests from the Ukrainian Government. Beyond the Ministry of Digital Transformation, various Ukrainian offices like the State Special Communications Service of Ukraine, Security Service of Ukraine, National Security and Defense Council of Ukraine, and Ukrainian National Cybersecurity Coordination Center were engaging in relationship building and outreach efforts in order to coordinate the provision of tech assistance.68 According to Bornyakov, the early days of coordination with the international private sector were chaos.69 Various offices and employees sent out messages and requests without internal coordination, and products or services were provided without sufficient due diligence to ensure that they were truly useful to the Ukrainian war effort.

The Ukrainian government quickly updated its practices to facilitate more efficient cooperation. Among the first of these moves was a Ukrainian policy change to directly enable increased private sector participation. In February 2022, prior to the invasion, the Ukrainian parliament Verkhovna Rada amended the laws that had barred government use of Cloud services. This change meant that just days before the Russian invasion, companies including Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Cloudflare were able the aid the Ukrainian government and several critical sector entities in migrating their critical data to their cloud servers—a critical move, as Russia’s attacks during the first few weeks of the war specifically targeted physical data centers.70 In addition, due to the imposition of martial law, Ukraine adopted two resolutions to streamline public procurement. Resolution 169, adopted on February 28, 2022, enabled government contracting authorities to ignore, when necessary, the procurement procedures required by the laws on public and defense procurement.71 Resolution 723, passed four months later, added new, more efficient requirements to the procurement process, amending both resolution 169 and resolution 822, most important of which was the introduction of the ProZorro platform as the mandatory electronic procurement system.72 As previously discussed, this platform was both a tool to facilitate procurement and to counter corruption in the procurement process at large.

Despite improvements to coordinate more effectively with private tech companies, and even as international coordination mechanisms emerged, a significant contingent of companies has maintained a preference for direct coordination. One government affairs executive noted that their company, like many others, preferred direct coordination with the Ukrainian government since it enabled more immediate and relevant support, and they were skeptical that third-party mechanisms would be as effective.73

Reaction – International aid facilitation

Since the February 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine, and even before that, international entities—states, supranational bodies, and non-state groups— played an important role in coordinating technical-focused aid in support of Ukraine.

However, states’ coordination efforts were notably inconsistent. In the first year and a half after the Russian reinvasion, the United States allocated $113 billion in response to the war in Ukraine—largely allocated to the Department of Defense at 54.7 percent, USAID at 32.3 percent, and the Department of State at 8.8 percent.74 This money should not be viewed like a check signed over to the Ukrainian government, but rather as money allocated to respond to the Russian invasion through a combination of forms and recipients, primarily the defense industrial base in the United States.75 By contrast, private companies publicly announced and celebrated their digital and tech aid to Ukraine. In an interview, one leading tech executive observed a clear dearth of focus from the US government toward digital and tech aid, instead opting for significant humanitarian and more traditional military assistance.76 This prioritization was likely an intentional choice—the US government’s perspective seems to have been that it was leading conventional aid by a significant margin and wanted others, like European governments and the private sector, to take the lead on digital and tech matters.77Though not speaking specifically on cyber and tech elements, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth in February 2025 called publicly for European states to provide the “overwhelming” majority of defense funding for Ukraine, bemoaning what he saw as an “imbalanced relationship.”78 Hegseth specifically pushed for the expansion of existing Europe-led coalitions—discussed below—dedicated to coordinating technological aid.79

By contrast, industry experts agreed that the UK Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office (FCDO) was a very effective facilitator of private sector aid.80 The UK’s efficiency on this issue was due in part to fewer restrictions on aid money between distinct civilian- and military-designated buckets.81 According to an assessment from the Independent Commission for Aid Impact, which scrutinizes UK aid spending, this flexibility enabled the FCDO to respond and adapt to the constant evolutions of the war and geopolitical environment—thereby acting as an effective channel for private sector assistance into Ukraine.82

The ad hoc nature of many of the early digital assistance programs provided by private companies was in some ways a double-edged sword. In many cases they were present and able to move more quickly than government programs, and in some places they stepped into de facto political roles—shaping the conflict and public understanding of it. However, this efficiency and effectiveness became difficult to sustain in the long run as governments and government-sponsored mechanisms were slow or insufficient to step in to support these efforts.83 US government entities were instrumental in facilitating support from private companies to Ukraine through purchase agreements, such as that of hundreds of Starlink devices and subscriptions in coordination with other governments84 and partnerships. US government entities also participated in intelligence sharing and collaboration efforts regarding Russian cyber capabilities and activities85 and even conducted hunt forward operations to assist in Ukrainian defense against Russian cyber aggression both before and after the February 2022 Russian invasion.86

In various conversations, both industry and government representatives confirmed the lack of effective governmental and supranational coordination and its impact on the private sector, and on Ukrainian defense.87 Company representatives across the United States and Europe shared the same refrain: “we can’t keep supporting Ukraine ourselves forever without government assistance.88

In addition to bilateral assistance efforts, various entities emerged across the conflict focused on cooperation organization and facilitation of digital and tech aid. The first of these was the CDAC, not a government entity, but a nonprofit organization that brought together a number of cybersecurity and technology organizations to better coordinate assistance efforts. The organization was founded by Gregory Rattray and a coalition of cyber executives to address the impediments and complications that accompanied the early days of digital and tech assistance provision from the private sector. A CDAC representative said in May 2024 that the group had facilitated $20-30 million in tech-related assistance for Ukraine since its inception.89 As Ukrainian and CDAC representatives noted, CDAC’s facilitation efforts have since slowed for a variety of reasons: decreased ability to act as an intermediary as requests have become more specific, a stabilization among companies that no longer require a coordinator after their relationships in Ukraine were established, and a lack of sufficient financial support for both CDAC and the companies willing to provide assistance.90

The vacuum noted by industry representatives and CDAC founders in the shape of a true digital and tech aid coordination body with the resources and remit to execute that mission is the planned role of the IT Coalition and the Tallinn mechanism. The IT Coalition, part of the Ukraine Defense Contact Group (UDCG; also known as the Ramstein Group), was established in September 2023 as “a dedicated group of donor nations led by Estonia and Luxembourg within the UDCG framework, focused on delivering support to Ukraine’s Defense Forces in the area of IT, communications, and cyber security.”91 The group consists of eighteen member countries, with the European Union, NATO, the United States, and France acting as observers.92 In 2024 and 2025, the coalition had raised “€1,1 billion in both financial and material assistance.”93 The coalition aims to support Ukraine cyber defense capability and command and control integration while also delivering on more long-term goals such as fostering innovation and cloud adoption. The United States is currently an observing member of the IT Coalition and have thus far has declined taking a more active role. Those familiar with the inner workings of the mechanism have emphasized the clear benefit of a more active US role in the mechanism, as most of the tech companies with whom the organization would like to coordinate are headquartered out of the United States.94

The Tallinn Mechanism was established in December 2023 with 11 states to “coordinate and facilitate civilian cyber capacity building” within Ukraine, and is intended to be complementary to military-focused cyber aid facilitation bodies like the IT Coalition.95 The Tallinn Mechanism is focused on “amplifying the cyber support of donors to Ukraine in the civilian domain.”96 The mechanism raised approximately $210 million by the end of 2024 and has focused on bolstering cyber defense capabilities, especially that of critical national infrastructure, through the public and private provision of hardware and software, incident response, satellite communication provision, and cybersecurity training for government officials.97

The international community has certainly made strides to better facilitate technology aid to Ukraine, to counteract the pushing effect that complicates such coordination for technology companies. However, it is yet unclear whether these programs and practices will meet the demands of this conflict, or those of conflicts to come. The most effective element of the tech sector at large’s efforts in Ukraine has been its speed, both in its response to the invasion itself and to individual challenges that have arisen over the course of this war. Meanwhile, government and supranational coordination—aside from those programs already in place—were much slower to implement.

Risk of retaliation

A significant factor shaping the behavior of companies’ work in and with Ukraine is the heightened threat state created by active warfare. Various technology company officials cited their concern about potential backlash—whether financial, cyber, or physical violence—from Russia against their infrastructure, products, and people.98 The real risk that these companies took on was informed by a number of factors, such as the application of their products or services by and for military ends, the required physical presence of personnel, products, or infrastructure, and also the degree to which increased Russian aggression against these companies might be a meaningful increase from prewar conditions.

Defense application

An undeniable yet complex risk that companies face as a result of providing support to Ukraine is the threat of Russian retaliatory action. Private sector behavior in Ukraine is shaped by the degree to which the goods and services provided are connected to the conduct of the conflict itself. Products and services provided to civilian groups for purely humanitarian purposes come with a different risk profile than goods that underpin government functions. Though not discrete or exhaustive, cyber and technical aid to Ukraine can be understood in four categories: humanitarian aid, critical infrastructure protection, government support, and military application. In practice, this division exists on a continuum, from purely humanitarian support to products or services that the state itself has come to rely on for the continued provision of government services, with particular importance placed on whether the good is for military use and whether that use is in direct support of combat operations. 

By and large, companies have made their own determinations as to how to amend their work in Ukraine, looking not only at the direct military application of their product or service but also examining existing and potential products or services to determine potential applicability for offensive operations—and where to avoid their abuse. A clear example of this is Google’s cessation of the live traffic display functionality within Google Maps. A team of open source researchers at the Middlebury Institute of International Studies, under the leadership of Professor Jeffrey Lewis, were allegedly able to infer the early movements of the February 2022 Russian invasion before official reporting by analyzing Google Maps traffic data in combination with radar imagery.99 Following these reports, Google announced that it would temporarily disable live traffic data so that it would not be used to plan military operations.100 An internal task force at Google largely coordinated these and similar decisions to coordinate aid to Ukraine and, most importantly, to examine their actions and decisions in order to identify and address programs that had a potential to cause harm.101 However, even after these amendments were made, Google Maps was again the subject of controversy. In November 2024, Ukrainian defense chiefs accused Google of revealing the location of key military positions following an earlier Google Maps update. According to Russian military bloggers, among these revelations was the position of new air defense systems, including US-made Patriot anti-aircraft missiles, surrounding an airport near Kyiv. According to the head of Ukraine’s counter-disinformation unit Andriy Kovalenko, Google representatives reached out to Ukrainian government officials to address the issue shortly thereafter.102

Similar in many ways was the SpaceX effort to restrict use of the Starlink satellite network close to the active front of the war. Though controversial in the public eye, and significant for military operators and planners, the SpaceX decision to restrict the use of Starlink devices near the front was an intentional one—to limit escalation directly supported by their devices. SpaceX President Gwynne Shotwell explained “our intent was never to have them use it for offensive purposes.”103 The Starlink network, despite these imposed limitations, has undeniably been an extremely useful tool for the Ukrainian military,104 but its network also supports a much wider geography of users, from individuals to government entities. The inherent dual-use nature of the Starlink network poses a much greater risk should its network be considered a military object. This risk framework is likely a significant part of the drive behind Space X’s creation of Starshield, announced in early December 2022. A partner project to Starlink, Starshield operates on a separate network and is specifically and exclusively for government—rather than consumer and commercial—use.105 With this application in mind, reports still vary as to whether such a contract, like the $1.8 billion deal with the National Reconnaissance Office, would be operated by the contractee, in this case the NRO, or whether, like Starlink, the service would remain operated by SpaceX.106 It is possible that this case will follow, in practice, the principle that the closer that the operation of a technology sits to strategic and sensitive national priorities, the higher the risk for both state and company of that technology being operated by said company, and the more likely that technology will come to be operated from within a government body.

Physicality

Products and services that require the physical presence of personnel, products, or infrastructure within Ukraine are the riskiest to undertake. Providing support in this way carries a level of risk that most companies did not have either the willingness or the infrastructure to take on.107 While some companies, for certain products, chose to partner with government entities to deliver products or services where physical presence was necessary, as in the preceding example, others chose instead to eschew options with such a requirement. In an interview, one expert said, “there were some products that you wanted to go forward with, but you couldn’t. Your informational security can only be as good as your physical security, so projects requiring new physical infrastructure development, or new infrastructure dependencies, was a major stumbling block.”108

Russia’s cyber-offensive impact

To some degree, most of the technology companies in question—especially those with a preexisting presence in Ukraine—were already a target of a significant volume of Russian cyber intrusion attempts as well as other coercive actions. As one industry executive put it when asked about the role of risk assessment in decisions to deepen their work in Ukraine following the invasion, “we knew the risk, we were already targeted on a daily basis.”109 The risk of Russian aggression and retaliation remains, but for many large tech companies, their work already took them into spaces where they were in direct or indirect conflict with Russian or Russian-affiliated groups. However, the risk of Russian cyber intrusions against their networks was already a built-in calculation for their existing cybersecurity plans.

In addition to the experience and expectations of many of these private companies, Russian cyber operations accompanying and following its February 2022 invasion were less disruptive than previously anticipated. The most prominent case of coordinated disruption in the information space remains the ViaSat satellite communications system hack during the invasion. As cyber scholar Jon Bateman writes, this intrusion demonstrated clear “timing (one hour before Russian troops crossed the border), clear military purpose (to degrade Ukrainian communications), and international spillover (disrupting connectivity in several European countries).”110 However, the incident appeared to be limited in duration and unclear in impact—senior Ukrainian official Victor Zhora acknowledged the loss to communications during the early hours of the invasion, but later stated that the incident was less disruptive than it could have been because of redundancies in Ukrainian communication methods.111

As nonresident senior fellow Justin Sherman explored in May 2025 Atlantic Council report, Unpacking Russia’s cyber nesting doll,112 the comparably muted effectiveness of Russian cyber operations during the war is the result of a multitude of factors including:

  • Cross-domain coordination difficulties
  • Resource constraints
  • Interagency competition
  • Intentional strategic prioritization
  • Ukrainian defensive strength

Sherman goes on to explain that while cyber operations against Ukraine did not have that catastrophic impact expected by some—the promised cyber Pearl Harbor—Russian cyber capabilities should not be underestimated.113

In just the first year of the war, Russia and—importantly—non-state actors in Russia’s orbit, launched a multitude of cyberattacks and intrusions against the public and private sector in Ukraine—including those entities relying on products, platforms, or infrastructure owned and operated by Western tech companies.114 In May 2025, the US Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency released a joint cybersecurity advisory highlighting this threat, and explicitly calling out Russian targeting of “those involved in the coordination, transport, and delivery of foreign assistance to Ukraine.”115 The question at hand, then, is not what level of risk is associated with these actions but how prepared the company is to encounter such risks.

Reaction – Risk definition and mitigation

In response to the risk of Russian retaliatory action, either through cyber or kinetic means, states and intranational bodies had a role to play in helping companies to navigate and mitigate these risks. The first method by which this was attempted was in an increased clarity on the types of actions that may be considered military or escalatory in nature. Additionally, in many cases states were necessary partners in securing any element of product delivery or operation required new physical presence in or movement into and across Ukraine.

Definition

Throughout the conflict, industry executives and civil society displayed a great deal of concern about where the line falls between civilian actors and military objectives, and how to ensure that their activities fall squarely on the civilian side of this line. Individuals and companies reiterated a desire for increased clarity on this question from Western governments and international legal bodies.116 Current humanitarian law requires the country at war to target only military objects, defined as objects “whose total or partial destruction, capture or neutralization, in the circumstances ruling at the time, offers a definite military advantage” in a manner proportional to the military gain foreseen by the operation.117

In a 2023 report, the International Red Cross posited that, “tech companies that operate in situations of armed conflict should understand and monitor whether the services they provide may amount to a direct participation in hostilities by their employees and whether the company might qualify as a military objective.”118 Essentially, the line between civilian and military object is determined by Russia in its assessment of the battlespace, as well as the broader question of whether the Kremlin is concerned about staying within the bounds of international humanitarian law. The subjectivity of this divide allows for some range in interpretation.119 Indeed some, like Lindsay Freeman at UC Berkeley School of Law, argue that “civilian objects have been intentional, direct targets and not simply collateral damage.”120 Ukraine and its allies cannot simply dictate where such a line exists. However, greater clarity from national and supranational entities would provide some measure of cover to these companies and help solidify their ability to make more accurate risk calculations.121

Mitigation

For products and services that require physical presence, either of people or products, many companies view some kind of partnership with government, local or otherwise, as a virtual necessity to bridge the risk imposed.122

Cisco’s Project PowerUp, led by Senior Security Strategist Joe Marshall of Cisco Talos Intelligence Group,123 is a clear demonstration of this. The project innovated and delivered a new industrial ethernet switch that could ensure continued effective power grid management even when Russian GPS jamming blocked Ukrenergo substation synchronization, and avoid the resulting forced outages across the Ukrainian power grid.124 The delivery of these devices into Ukraine was coordinated via a phone call to a US government official who coordinated the first shipment on an upcoming cargo shipment to Poland and then onto a train into Ukraine to be installed by Ukrenergo engineers.125 While this project was conceived of and executed by Cisco employees, those involved in the project emphasized the importance of Cisco’s partnership with the US government on this, as well as other private assistance programs.126

Several governments and international organizations have established insurance programs, particularly political risk insurance to help shield companies from the financial risk of investment into Ukraine. In 2023, the Multilateral Investment Guarantee Agency of the World Bank issued guarantees of $9.1 million to support the construction and operation in the M10 Industrial Park in Lviv.127 Additionally, the US International Development Finance Corporation has established several financial packages guaranteeing millions in political risk insurance for a variety of projects.128 Within Ukraine, war and political risk insurance is offered by the Export Credit Agency, which insure loans for qualifying Ukrainian businesses against such risks, as well as for direct investment from or into Ukraine.129 The Ukrainian Ministry of Economy also drafted a law, in cooperation with the National Bank of Ukraine, which would create a unified framework for political or war risk insurance, with a focus on mitigating risks that may deter foreign investments.130

The physical element of presence in Ukraine and especially near the battlefield remains a clear demarcation between activities that are the realm of the public sector and those that are the realm of the private sector. In this area, cooperation and coordination between companies and governments could largely follow established practices and procedures. But, for technology whose infrastructure does not touch the territory of Ukraine, the question of where the line is between civilian product and military object, and where bodies like NATO, the European Union, and the United Nations would define that line to be, resembles a gradual gradient rather than a stark line.

Key takeaways and conclusion

Behind much of the discussions and debates among various groups on the role of the private sector in in the war in Ukraine is a deeper anxiety about the evolving character of warfare as we reach the quarter marker of the twenty-first century. The integration and implementation of new technologies and its effect on the practice of war is familiar territory for theoreticians and practitioners alike, from Douhet’s theories on the supremacy of air power to the revolution of military affairs (RMA) school of thought, to those today that focus on the effect of evolving drone tactics on the operation and strategy of war. Less comfortable, however, is the analysis of what changes in technology may mean in practice not just for the conduct of war itself, but more fundamentally for the very nature of actors whose abilities and choices shape the conduct of war.

Over the past few years, private companies, especially technology companies based in North America and Western Europe have made decisions as to whether and how to contribute to the Ukrainian war effort in ways that have greatly impacted the ability of the Ukrainian government to direct and effectuate its own defense. In other words, they have moved beyond the status of resource providers in this conflict toward something more resembling actors in and of themselves, at times approaching the importance of states in their contributions.

Clarity of conflict

The war in Ukraine—especially in the first months and years of the war— was notably less divisive in the court of public opinion in the West than many other contemporary conflicts. The historical context of the Russia-Ukraine relationship, along with the sustained aggression launched against Ukraine for more than a decade prior to this invasion and the nature of the invasion itself, combined with myriad factors including those discussed throughout this report, created conditions conducive to widespread sympathy and support across much of Western Europe and North America. The efforts of the Ukrainian government proactively built on these conditions both before and after the invasion. Ukrainian leaders, Zelenskyy in particular, both publicly and in private conversations with government and private sector representatives, clearly communicated the effects of Russian aggression against Ukraine and the actions undertaken by the Ukrainian government and its people.

Clarity of conflict, as a motivating factor for tech companies’ decision-making over the course of this conflict, was important in creating favorable conditions for such choices, but is not determinative. Most important as a lesson applicable in potential future conflicts, is that the seeds that grew these conditions into place were planted well before Russian forces rolled across the Ukrainian borders in February 2022.

Business alignment

Many firms had preexisting operations, employees, or customers in Ukraine—generating both a sense of duty and a pragmatic incentive to safeguard assets and personnel. Firms that were already active in Ukraine, or whose services directly contributed to protecting their employees and customers, were the most proactive and consistent contributors. Additionally, companies could derive direct or indirect benefits from their engagement. Several firms leveraged their involvement as an opportunity for product testing, cybersecurity innovation, and real-world validation of technologies under extreme conditions. In doing so, companies not only supported Ukraine’s defense but also advanced their own technical capabilities and reputational standing.

Ukraine’s long-term digital transformation further enhanced this alignment. Over the past decade, the government has implemented legal and technical reforms aimed at combating corruption and promoting digital industry growth, positioning the country as a prospective regional tech hub and a credible, innovation-friendly partner. This proactive transformation reassured corporate partners that their investments and assistance could be practicable and impactful.

For future conflicts, states will need to account for business alignment factors as an important driving factor in private sector’s decision-making. This includes the uncomfortable, yet important finding that this includes companies’ ability to profit, or at a minimum, sustain their operations in a conflict in a way that maintains their organizational health, noting that companies’ motivations will not always align with that of the states in which they are headquartered. While moral conviction catalyzed early engagement, sustained corporate involvement in Ukraine depended on alignment between ethical action and business strategy.

Difficulty of coordination

Even amid broad goodwill, the initial months of the war revealed the challenge of coordination. Companies often struggled to identify appropriate Ukrainian counterparts, assess needs accurately, or ensure that their offerings were deployed effectively. Early efforts were marked by confusion—with multiple government offices issuing overlapping requests and little centralized control. As Bornyakov later acknowledged, the early days of outreach “were chaos.”

Many of the most significant factors that shaped company involvement were already in place and being acted upon before the February 2022 Russian invasion. Preexisting relationships were key, both as a motivating factor and a facilitating factor, effectively minimizing coordination friction. Additionally, the technological and policy developments well underway before the February 2022 invasion created the appealing Ukrainian tech landscape and improved coordination necessary once the conflict was underway.

While private companies excelled in speed and agility, governments brought scale, reliability, and regulatory legitimacy. The war illustrated how preparedness for potential future conflicts will depend on preestablished coordination frameworks that merge these strengths—enabling rapid mobilization of technological capabilities, matching private capabilities with public needs in real time.

Risk of retaliation

Providing assistance to Ukraine exposed technology companies to new security risks from cyberattacks, sanctions, or kinetic threats against personnel or infrastructure. The degree of perceived risk—and retaliation—varied depending on each company’s exposure, particularly for firms whose technologies had direct military applications or some kind of physical presence.

Ambiguity around international law, cyber norms, and export controls can delay or discourage private assistance. Companies must understand whether providing certain technologies or services could be construed as escalatory, illegal, or sanctionable. Private firms are increasingly targeted in state-level cyber operations. The possibility of retaliation, in any of a myriad of forms, was a serious risk for companies aiding Ukraine; managing and sharing that risk is essential to sustaining long-term cooperation.

To mitigate these risks, Ukraine and allied governments played an essential supportive role, clarifying the boundaries between civilian and military assistance, helping companies avoid escalatory missteps and, in some cases, underwrote contracts or insurance to shield firms from loss. Such measures demonstrate the emerging need for risk-sharing frameworks between states and corporations. In cases where physical operations within Ukraine were necessary, governments provided logistical and security coordination to protect personnel and assets. Such collaboration underscores an emerging model of public-private security cooperation, wherein states and corporations jointly navigate the blurred boundaries between national defense and digital resilience.

If private technology companies’ decisions and actions are so impactful to the conduct of war, as they have shown themselves to be, then the character of warfare has evolved in such a way as to require states to likewise evolve in the ways that they provide military assistance and plan for potential future conflicts. The foundation for this evolution needs to be a greater understanding of the factors in the case of Ukraine that most greatly impacted company decision-making regarding their participation, or not, in the conflict space, starting with the four factors identified in this report: those that pulled companies toward cooperation, and those that pushed companies away. By assessing the factors that drove companies’ decision-making in Ukraine, states can better plan and prepare for future crises and conflicts—and not leave such critical capabilities, once again, to chance.

About the author

Emma Schroeder is an associate director with the Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Tech Programs. Her focus in this role is on developing statecraft and strategy for cyberspace useful for both policymakers and practitioners. Her work focuses on the role of cyber and cyber-enabled technology in conflict and crime.  

Originally from Massachusetts, Schroeder holds an MA in History of War from King’s College London’s War Studies Department. She also attained her BA in International Relations & History, with a concentration in Security Studies, from the George Washington University’s Elliott School of International Affairs. 

Acknowledgements

This report was made possible by the participation of dozens of scholars and practitioners who shared their expertise and experiences with the author.

Thank you to the Cyber Statecraft Initiative team for their support, particularly Nikita Shah and Trey Herr for their guidance. Particular thanks to Emerson Johnston, Grace Menna, and Zhenwei Gao for their research assistance, as well as to Nancy Messieh, Samia Yakub, and Donald Partyka for the creation and review of language and digital assets. All errors are the author’s own.

Explore the program

The Atlantic Council’s Cyber Statecraft Initiative, part of the Atlantic Council Technology Programs, works at the nexus of geopolitics and cybersecurity to craft strategies to help shape the conduct of statecraft and to better inform and secure users of technology.

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2    “Russia/Ukraine: Invasion of Ukraine Is an Act of Aggression and Human Rights Catastrophe,” Amnesty International, March 1, 2022, https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2022/03/russia-ukraine-invasion-of-ukraine-is-an-act-of-aggression-and-human-rights-catastrophe/.
3    “Majority back U.S. troop presence in Europe, but not in Ukraine itself,” Monmouth University Polling Institute, March 16, 2022, https://www.monmouth.edu/polling-institute/reports/monmouthpoll_us_031622/.
4    Catarina Thomson et al., “European public opinion: united in supporting Ukraine, divided on the future of NATO,” International Affairs 99, no. 6 (2023): 2485–2500, https://doi.org/10.1093/ia/iiad241.    
5    Interview with threat intelligence executive at US cybersecurity nonprofit, April 2, 2024.
6    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, March 26, 2024.
7    Industry executive, IT coalition roundtable, Atlantic Council, February 21, 2024.
8    “The TechPlomacy Approach,” Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Denmark, accessed October 20, 2025, https://techamb.um.dk/the-techplomacy-approach.
9    “Mykhailo Fedorov,” Government Portal (Ukraine), accessed Oct 15, 2025, https://www.kmu.gov.ua/en/profile/mikhaylo-fedorov.
10    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology company, March 26, 2024.
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25    Interview with threat intelligence executive at US cybersecurity nonprofit, April 2, 2024.
26    Sam Bresnick, Ngor Luong, and Kathleen Curlee, Which Ties Will Bind: Big Tech, Lessons from Ukraine, and Implications for TaiwanCenter for Security and Emerging Technology (Georgetown University), February 2024, https://cset.georgetown.edu/publication/which-ties-will-bind/.
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28    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024.
29    “Google’s Russian Subsidiary Files Bankruptcy Document,” Reuters, May 18, 2022, https://www.reuters.com/markets/europe/googles-russian-subsidiary-files-bankruptcy-document-2022-05-18/; “Google’s Russian Subsidiary Recognised Bankrupt by Court—RIA,” Reuters, October 18, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/markets/deals/googles-russian-subsidiary-recognised-bankrupt-by-court-ria-2023-10-18/.
30    Google Wins UK Injunction over YouTube Block on Russian Broadcasters,” Reuters, January 22, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/technology/google-wins-uk-injunction-over-youtube-block-russian-broadcasters-2025-01-22/. 
31    Interview with executive at US multinational technology corporation, date withheld.
32    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2025. 
33    Interview with threat intelligence executive at US cybersecurity nonprofit, May 2, 2024.
34    Interview with business development executive at US information and communications technology corporation, July 18, 2024. 
35    Vera Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned Ukraine into an AI War Lab,” TIME, February 8, 2024, https://time.com/6691662/ai-ukraine-war-palantir/.
36    Interview with information security executive at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation, May 8, 2024.
37    Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned.”
38    Industry Executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
39    Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned.”
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48    Robert Peacock, The Impact of corruptionSoftware Management, Business Software Alliance.
49    “About UNITED24,” UNITED24 – The Initiative of the President of Ukraine, accessed October 20, 2025, https://u24.gov.ua/about; Guest, “Mykhailo Fedorov is Running.”
50    Daryna Antoniuk, “Two Ukraine Cyber Officials Dismissed amid Embezzlement Probe,” The Record, November 20, 2023, https://therecord.media/two-ukraine-cyber-officials-dismissed-amid-embezzlement-probe; “Misappropriation of UAH 62 million during the purchase of software: the leadership of the State Special Communications Service is suspected,” National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine, news release (in Ukrainian), November 20, 2023, https://nabu.gov.ua/news/zavolod-nnia-62-mln-grn-pri-zakup-vl-programnogo-zabezpechennia-p-dozriu-t-sia-ker-vnitctvo-derzhspetczviazku/.
51    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, May 2, 2024; Interview with information security executives at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation, May 8, 2024; Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024.
52    Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned.” 
53    Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned.”
54    “Ukrainian Tech Industry Shows Resilience in the Face of War — IT Research Ukraine 2024,” techukraine.org, December 5, 2024, https://techukraine.org/2024/12/05/ukrainian-tech-industry-shows-resilience-in-the-face-of-war-it-research-ukraine-2024/.
55    “Diia City,” Diia, accessed October 20, 2025, https://city.diia.gov.ua/en.
56    Mykhailo Fedorov, “Ukraine’s Vibrant Tech Ecosystem Is a Secret Weapon in the War with Russia,” UkraineAlert (Atlantic Council), August 17, 2023, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/ukrainealert/ukraines-vibrant-tech-ecosystem-is-a-secret-weapon-in-the-war-with-russia/.
57    Greg Rattray, Geoff Brown, and Robert Taj Moore, The Cyber Defense Assistance Imperative: Lessons from Ukraine, Aspen Digital, May 2025, https://www.aspeninstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/Aspen-Digital_The-Cyber-Defense-Assistance-Imperative-Lessons-from-Ukraine.pdf.
58    “CDAC: “The Scale of What We Can Do is Severely Hampered by not Having Funding for Dedicated Staff or to Fulfill Requirements Directly,” Common Good Cyber, May 29, 2025, https://commongoodcyber.org/news/interview-cdac-funding/.
59    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024.
60    Interview with business development executive at US information and communications technology corporation, July 18, 2024; Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, May 2, 2024; Interview with information security executives at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation, May 8, 2024.
61    Interview with business development executive at US information and communications technology corporation, July 18, 2024.
62    Interview with threat intelligence executive at US cybersecurity nonprofit, April 2, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
63    Industry executive, “IT Coalition” Roundtable, Atlantic Council, February 21, 2024.
64    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.  
65    “Cyber Defense Assistance Evaluation Framework,” Cyber Defense Assistance Collaborative, June 18, 2024, https://crdfglobal-cdac.org/cda-evaluation-framework/.
66    Peter Guest, “Mykhailo Fedorov is Running,” WIRED, July 25, 2023, https://www.wired.com/story/ukraine-runs-war-startup/.
67    Cat Zakrzewski, “4,000 letters and four hours of sleep: Ukrainian leader wages digital war,” Washington Post, March 30, 2022, https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2022/03/30/mykhailo-fedorov-ukraine-digital-front/.
68    Interview with tech assistance coordination executive, US nonprofit organization, July 17, 2025.
69    Bergengruen, “How Tech Giants Turned.”
70    Colin Demarest, “Data Centers Are Physical and Digital Targets, Says Pentagon’s Eoyang,” C4ISRNET, November 17, 2022, https://www.c4isrnet.com/cyber/2022/11/17/data-centers-are-physical-and-digital-targets-says-pentagons-eoyang/.
71    Oleh Ivanov, “Procurement During the Full-Scale War,” Vox Ukraine, October 14, 2022, https://voxukraine.org/en/procurement-during-the-full-scale-war.
72    “On Amendments to the Resolutions of the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine No. 822 of September 14, 2020 and No.169 of February 28, 2022,” Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine, June 24, 2022, https://zakon.rada.gov.ua/laws/show/723-2022-%D0%BF#n2.
73    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024.
74    Elizabeth Hoffman, Jaehyun Han, and Shivani Vakharia, Past, Present, and Future of US Assistance to Ukraine: A Deep Dive into the DataCenter for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), September 26, 2023, https://www.csis.org/analysis/past-present-and-future-us-assistance-ukraine-deep-dive-data.
75    The difficulty, for the purposes of this paper, is understanding the breakdown of this assistance as it applies to digital and tech-focused aid to Ukraine. The author found examples breaking down US government assistance by general category (i.e., humanitarian, military, financial) and breakdowns of weapons systems aid (e.g., tanks and air defense systems) but little enumeration of the kind and amount of digital and tech aid provided by the US government. See “Ukraine Support Tracker,” Kiel Institute for the World Economy, updated October 14, 2025, https://www.ifw-kiel.de/topics/war-against-ukraine/ukraine-support-tracker.
76    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024.
77    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024; Interview with information security executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024; Interview with threat intelligence executive and government affairs executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, October 2, 2024.
78    Alex Therrien and Frank Gardner, “Hegseth Sets Out Hard Line on European Defense and NATO,” BBC News, February 12, 2025, https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cy0pz3er37jo.
79    Jon Harper,“Hegseth Puts Onus on Allies to Provide ‘Overwhelming Share’ of Weapons to Ukraine,” DefenseScoop, February 12, 2025, https://defensescoop.com/2025/02/12/hegseth-ukraine-defense-contact-group-allies-military-aid-trump/.
80    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024; Interview with threat intelligence executive and government affairs executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, October 2, 2024.
81    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
82    “UK aid to Ukraine,” Independent Commission for Aid Impact (ICAI), April 30, 2024, https://icai.independent.gov.uk/html-version/uk-aid-to-ukraine-2/.
83    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024.
84    “SpaceX, USAID Deliver 5,000 Satellite Internet Terminals to Ukraine,” Reuters, April 6, 2022, https://www.reuters.com/technology/spacex-usaid-deliver-5000-satellite-internet-terminals-ukraine-2022-04-06/; Alex Marquardt, “Exclusive: Musk’s SpaceX Says it Can No Longer Pay for Critical Satellite Services in Ukraine, Asks Pentagon to Pick Up the Tab,” CNN, October 13, 2022, https://www.cnn.com/2022/10/13/politics/elon-musk-spacex-starlink-ukraine; Michael Sheetz, “Pentagon Awards SpaceX with Ukraine Contract for Starlink Satellite Internet,” CNBC, June 1, 2023, https://www.cnbc.com/2023/06/01/pentagon-awards-spacex-with-ukraine-contract-for-starlink-satellite-internet.html.
85    “United States and Ukraine Expand Cooperation on Cybersecurity,” Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, July 27, 2022, https://www.cisa.gov/news-events/news/united-states-and-ukraine-expand-cooperation-cybersecurity; David Jones, “White House Warns of US of Possible Russian Cyberattack Linked to Ukraine Invasion,” Cybersecurity Dive, March 22, 2022, https://www.cybersecuritydive.com/news/white-house-warns-russian-cyberattack-ukraine/620755/; Egle Murauskaite, “U.S. Assistance to Ukraine in the Information Space: Intelligence, Cyber, and Signaling,” Asymmetric Threats Analysis Center (University of Maryland), February 2023, https://www.start.umd.edu/publication/us-assistance-ukraine-information-space-intelligence-cyber-and-signaling.
86    Maj. Sharon Rollins, “Defensive Cyber Warfare: Lessons from Inside Ukraine,” US Naval Institute Proceedings, June 2023, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/2023/june/defensive-cyber-warfare-lessons-inside-ukraine; “Before the Invasion: Hunt Forward Operations in Ukraine,” US Cyber Command (declassified briefing), November 28, 2022, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/sites/default/files/documents/rmsj3h-751×3/2022-11-28-CNMF-Before-the-Invasion-Hunt-Forward-Operations-in-Ukraine.pdf; Dina Temple-Raston, Sean Powers, and Daryna Antoniuk, “Ukraine Hunt Forward Teams,” The Record, October 18, 2023, https://therecord.media/ukraine-hunt-forward-teams-us-cyber-command
87    Interview with tech assistance coordination executive at US nonprofit organization, July 17, 2025; Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024.
88    “Interview with threat intelligence executive at US multinational technology corporation, April 22, 2024; Industry executive, “IT Coalition” Roundtable, Atlantic Council, February 21, 2024; Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024; Interview with threat intelligence executive and government affairs executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, October 2, 2024.
89    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024.
90    Industry executive, “Public-Private Cyber Support” Workshop, Royal United Services Institute, May 29, 2024.
91    “Luxembourg, Estonia, and Ukraine Have Launched the IT Coalition,” Government of Luxembourg, September 19, 2023, https://gouvernement.lu/en/actualites/toutes_actualites/communiques/2023/09-septembre/19-bausch-itcoalition.html.
92    “Ukraine Defence Contact Group: Estonia and Luxembourg Announce New Contributions to IT Coalition,” European Pravda, April 8, 2024, https://www.eurointegration.com.ua/eng/news/2024/04/8/7183316/; “IT Coalition Established by Estonia and Luxembourg … Has Raised about 500 Million Euros in Its First Year,” Republic of Estonia Ministry of Defense, December 12, 2024, https://www.kaitseministeerium.ee/en/news/it-coalition-established-estonia-and-luxembourg-help-ukraine-has-raised-about-500-million-euros.
93    “IT Coalition Led by Estonia and Luxembourg Has Raised over One Billion Euros to Support Ukraine,” Republic of Estonia Ministry of Defense, May 28, 2025, https://kaitseministeerium.ee/en/news/it-coalition-led-estonia-and-luxembourg-has-raised-over-one-billion-euros-support-ukraine.
94    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
95    “Formalization of the Tallinn Mechanism to Coordinate Civilian Cyber Assistance to Ukraine,” US Department of State (Office of the Spokesperson), December 20, 2023, https://2021-2025.state.gov/formalization-of-the-tallinn-mechanism-to-coordinate-civilian-cyber-assistance-to-ukraine/.
96    “Tallinn Mechanism Raises €200 Million to Support Ukraine’s Resilience in Cyberspace,” Republic of Estonia Ministry of Foreign Affairs, December 20, 2024, https://www.vm.ee/en/news/tallinn-mechanism-raises-eu200-million-support-ukraines-resilience-cyberspace.
97    “Joint Statement Marking the First Anniversary of the Tallinn Mechanism,” US Department of State (Office of the Spokesperson), December 20, 2024, https://2021-2025.state.gov/joint-statement-marking-the-first-anniversary-of-the-tallinn-mechanism/.
98    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, August 28, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
99    Rachel Lerman, “On Google Maps, Tracking the Invasion of Ukraine,” The Washington Post, February 25, 2022, https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2022/02/25/google-maps-ukraine-invasion/.
100    Marc Cieslak and Tom Gerken, “Ukraine Crisis: Google Maps Live Traffic Data Turned Off in Country,” BBC News, February 28, 2022, https://www.bbc.com/news/technology-60561089.
101    Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, date withheld.
102    Seb Starcevic, “Ukraine Slams Google for Revealing Location of Military Sites,” Politico, November 4, 2024, https://www.politico.eu/article/ukraine-google-reveal-location-military-site/; James Kilner, “Google Maps ‘reveals location’ of Ukrainian military positions,” The Telegraph, November 4, 2024, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/world-news/2024/11/04/ukraine-angry-google-maps-reveal-location-military-position/.
103    Alex Marquardt and Kristin Fisher, “SpaceX Admits Blocking Ukrainian Troops from Using Satellite Technology,” CNN, February 9, https://www.cnn.com/2023/02/09/politics/spacex-ukrainian-troops-satellite-technology/index.html.
104    “Russia Using Thousands of SpaceX Starlink Terminals in Ukraine, WSJ says,” Reuters, February 15, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/russia-using-thousands-spacex-starlink-terminals-ukraine-wsj-says-2024-02-15/.
105    “Starshield,” SpaceX, accessed October 20, 2025, https://www.spacex.com/starshield/; Joey Roulette and Marisa Taylor, “Exclusive: Musk’s SpaceX Is Building Spy Satellite Network for US Intelligence Agency, Sources Say,” Reuters, March 16, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/technology/space/musks-spacex-is-building-spy-satellite-network-us-intelligence-agency-sources-2024-03-16/.
106    Tim Fernholz, “The Big Questions About Starshield: SpaceX’s Classified EO Project,” Payload, March 22, 2024, https://payloadspace.com/the-big-questions-about-starshield-spacexs-classified-eo-project/; Brian Everstine, “SpaceX: DoD Has Requested Taking Over Starship Individual Missions,” Aviation Week Network, January 30, 2024, https://aviationweek.com/space/spacex-dod-has-requested-taking-over-starship-individual-missions; Sandra Erwin, “Pentagon Embracing SpaceX’s Starshield for Future Military SATCOM,” SpaceNews, June 11, 2024, https://spacenews.com/pentagon-embracing-spacexs-starshield-for-future-military-satcom/.
107    Interview with information security executive at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation, May 8, 2024; Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, March 1, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
108    Interview with information security executive at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation, May 8, 2024.
109    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
110    Jon Bateman, Russia’s Wartime Cyber Operations in Ukraine: Military Impacts, Influences, and ImplicationsCarnegie Endowment for International Peace, December 16, 2022, https://carnegieendowment.org/research/2022/12/russias-wartime-cyber-operations-in-ukraine-military-impacts-influences-and-implications?lang=en.
111    Rafael Satter, “Satellite Outage Caused ‘Huge Loss in Communications’ at War’s Outset—Ukrainian Official,” Reuters, March 15, 2022, https://www.reuters.com/world/satellite-outage-caused-huge-loss-communications-wars-outset-ukrainian-official-2022-03-15/; Kim Zetter, “ViaSat Hack ‘Did Not’ Have Huge Impact on Ukrainian Military Communications, Official Says,” Zero Day (Substack), September 26, 2022, https://www.zetter-zeroday.com/viasat-hack-did-not-have-huge-impact/; Emma Schroeder with Sean Dack, A Parallel Terrain: Public‑Private Defense of the Ukrainian Information EnvironmentAtlantic Council, February 27, 2023, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/a-parallel-terrain-public-private-defense-of-the-ukrainian-information-environment/.
112    Justin Sherman, Unpacking Russia’s Cyber Nesting DollAtlantic Council, May 20, 2025, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/russia-tomorrow/unpacking-russias-cyber-nesting-doll/.
113    Justin Sherman, Unpacking Russia’s Cyber.
114    Shane Huntley, “Fog of War: How the Ukraine Conflict Transformed the Cyber Threat Landscape,” Threat Analysis Group blog (Google), February 16, 2023, https://blog.google/threat-analysis-group/fog-of-war-how-the-ukraine-conflict-transformed-the-cyber-threat-landscape/.
115    “Russian GRU Targeting Western Logistics Entities and Technology Companies,” Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, May 21, 2025, https://www.cisa.gov/news-events/cybersecurity-advisories/aa25-141a.
116    Industry executive, “IT Coalition” Roundtable, Atlantic Council, February 21, 2024; Interview with government affairs executive at US multinational technology corporation, March 1, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024; Interview with information security executive at US intelligence and data analysis software technology corporation; Interview with threat intelligence executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, July 26, 2024.
117    International Committee of the Red Cross, Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, and Relating to the Protection of Victims of International Armed Conflicts (Protocol I), (June 8, 1977), United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, https://www.refworld.org/docid/3ae6b36b4.html.
118    Protecting Civilians Against Digital Threats During Armed Conflict: Recommendations to States, Belligerents, Tech Companies, and Humanitarian Organizations, ICRC Global Advisory Board on Digital Threats during Armed Conflict, October 19, 2023, https://www.icrc.org/en/document/protecting-civilians-against-digital-threats-during-armed-conflict, 15.
119    Zhanna L. Malekos Smith, “No ‘Bright‑Line Rule’ Shines on Targeting Commercial Satellites,” The Hill, November 28, 2022, https://thehill.com/opinion/cybersecurity/3747182-no-bright-line-rule-shines-on-targeting-commercial-satellites/; Emma Schroeder and Sean Dack, A Parallel Terrain: Public‑Private Defense of the Ukrainian Information EnvironmentAtlantic Council, February 27, 2023, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/a-parallel-terrain-public-private-defense-of-the-ukrainian-information-environment/.
120    Lindsay Freeman, “Evidence of Russian Cyber Operations Could Bolster New ICC Arrest Warrants,” Lawfare, March 13, 2024, https://www.lawfaremedia.org/article/evidence-of-russian-cyber-operations-could-bolster-new-icc-arrest-warrants.
121    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
122    Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
123    Joe Marshall, “Project PowerUp – Helping to Keep the Lights on in Ukraine in the Face of Electronic Warfare,” Cisco Talos Intelligence blog, December 4, 2023, https://blog.talosintelligence.com/project-powerup-ukraine-grid/
124    Joe Marshall, “Project PowerUp;” Interview with threat intelligence executive at US multinational digital communications technology corporation, July 26, 2024.
125    Sean Lyngass, “Exclusive: This Pizza Box-sized Equipment Could Be Key to Ukraine Keeping the Lights on This Winter,” CNN, November 21, 2023, https://www.cnn.com/2023/11/21/politics/ukraine-power-grid-equipment-cisco/index.html; Industry executive, “Tales from Ukraine” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, November 20, 2024; Industry executive, “Supporting Ukraine’s Warfighting Efforts with Digital Capabilities” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, September 13, 2024.
126    Industry executive, “Tales from Ukraine” Roundtable, Embassy of Estonia and the Estonian Ministry of Defense, November 20, 2024
127    World Bank Group, “MIGA Backs Industrial Park in Ukraine,” news release, September 28, 2023, https://www.miga.org/press-release/miga-backs-industrial-park-ukraine.
128    US International Development Finance Corporation, “DFC Announces $357 Million in New Political Risk Insurance for Ukraine,” news release, June 12, 2024, https://www.dfc.gov/media/press-releases/dfc-announces-357-million-new-political-risk-insurance-ukraine-russias.
129    “Your Business in Ukraine 2025,” KPMG Ukraine, March 2025, https://kpmg.com/ua/en/home/insights/2025/03/your-business-in-ukraine.html.
130    “Developments in War‑Risk Insurance Products for Investments in Ukraine,” Dentons, December 5, 2024, https://www.dentons.com/en/insights/articles/2024/december/5/developments-in-war-risk-insurance-products-for-investments-in-ukraine.

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Minsk in Moscow’s grip: How Russia subjugated Belarus without annexation https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/content-series/russia-tomorrow/minsk-in-moscows-grip-how-russia-subjugated-belarus-without-annexation/ Thu, 13 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=887034 The latest report in the Atlantic Council's Russia Tomorrow series examines how Belarus moved from close relations with Russia to full-scale integration under the Kremlin.

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Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 challenged much of the common Western understanding of Russia. How can the world better understand Russia? What are the steps forward for Western policy? The Eurasia Center’s “Russia Tomorrow” series seeks to reevaluate conceptions of Russia today and better prepare for its future tomorrow.

Table of contents

For about five years, from 2015 to 2020, Belarus created an illusion that it was changing: a deceptive glimmer that suggested its leader, Alyaksandr Lukashenka, might steer his country away from Russia’s orbit and toward greater independence. In hindsight, this false dawn only masked the tightening grip of Moscow.

Two myths fueled misplaced optimism. First, there was a belief that Belarus could balance between the East and West through a multivector foreign policy. Second, there was a hope that Minsk’s limited reforms, release of some political prisoners, and especially its refusal to unconditionally back Moscow in the 2014 annexation of Crimea and intervention in the Donbas signaled a liberalizing turn. Both illusions ultimately frayed during this period.

At first, Lukashenka positioned Belarus as a neutral host for peace talks on the Ukraine conflict—not a participant. The Minsk agreements of 2014 and 2015 fed Western hopes: Belarus as mediator, not accomplice. Lukashenka even rejected Russian demands for a new Russian airbase in Belarusian territory, wary of appearing too dependent.

A partial thaw followed. Some Belarusian political prisoners were released. The European Union (EU) lifted sanctions. Western officials applauded Lukashenka’s apparent pragmatism. Engagement resumed.

But beneath the surface, nothing fundamentally changed. The regime remained authoritarian and Soviet in ethos. The security apparatus stayed intact. Dissent was managed, not tolerated. And Moscow remained the indispensable lifeline—providing cheap energy, market access, and strategic cover.

By the end of the decade, the signs were unmistakable. Crackdowns against dissent intensified. Economic dependence on Moscow deepened. Russia’s regional aggression hardened. The scaffolding of sovereignty remained, but the core was hollow.

When mass protests erupted in 2020 and the West recoiled at the regime’s violent crackdown on peaceful demonstrators in 2020, Lukashenka had only one direction to turn. The illusion of neutrality collapsed. So did the myth of a buffer state. What had once looked like strategic balance was instead a drift toward absorption into Russia.

A rapid unraveling ensued. After the extreme crackdown on protesters came the forced landing of a Ryanair flight to detain a dissident journalist and the weaponization of migration at EU borders, both in 2021. Clearly, Lukashenka was no longer playing both sides. He had chosen one—and it was Moscow’s.

This report examines how Belarus moved close relations with Russia to full-scale integration under the Kremlin. From political alignment to economic subjugation. From linguistic erasure to cultural annexation. What looked like independence was dependency in disguise.

Yet beneath this transformation lies a deeper truth: Belarusians themselves have not chosen this path. Public opinion surveys consistently show opposition to war and to nuclear weapons on Belarusian soil. They reject the loss of sovereignty and the transformation of Belarus into a Russian-controlled satellite. The regime has chosen absorption. The people have not.

The following chapters trace Belarus’s evolution into a de facto Russian outpost: militarily, politically, diplomatically, economically, and culturally. They also outline strategic options for ensuring that Belarus’s future is not decided solely in Moscow.

Sovereignty eroded: How Belarus became a Russian satellite

Lukashenka’s proclaimed neutrality during Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine was always a fiction. Belarus remained a loyal authoritarian ally, making no meaningful reforms. Still, until 2020, Minsk maintained a degree of strategic flexibility, balancing deep ties with Moscow against limited outreach to the West and to China. Now, however, the question is no longer whether Belarus is drifting into Russia’s orbit but how much autonomy Lukashenka still retains.

From the start of his presidency in 1994, Lukashenka aligned himself with Moscow, consolidating domestic power by dismantling democratic institutions and suppressing dissent. He courted Russian elites and even positioned himself in the 1990s as a possible successor to President Boris Yeltsin, garnering the support of some nationalists in Russia. His ambition culminated in the 1999 Union State Treaty, a blueprint for deep integration: shared currency, joint institutions, and equal rights for citizens. But when Russian Federation President Vladimir Putin came to power in 2000, Lukashenka’s dreams of entering the Kremlin were dashed. Putin used that treaty to attempt to end Belarusian sovereignty. 

As a result, for over two decades, Lukashenka stalled implementation of the Union State Treaty, using the illusion of progress to extract economic concessions from the Kremlin—especially cheap energy—while avoiding genuine integration.

That strategy started to unravel in the late 2010s. Frustrated by Minsk’s endless demands for cheaper energy prices, Moscow began tying economic support to political concessions. In 2019, the two sides drafted thirty-one road maps for integration. Lukashenka sought better economic terms; Moscow wanted alignment. When Belarusians protested, he let the demonstrations proceed: a signal to Putin that public backlash might limit his flexibility.

Everything changed after the fraudulent 2020 presidential election, in which Lukashenka claimed victory over popular opposition forces led by Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya. Mass protests left Lukashenka isolated and unrecognized by the West. Desperate, he turned fully to Moscow, and Putin seized the opportunity. In November 2021, Belarus and Russia formally endorsed twenty-eight Union State programs, reviving integration plans that aimed to harmonize legal systems, unify markets, and align policies in energy, finance, customs, and taxation. Though framed as cooperation, these measures eroded Belarusian sovereignty.

Implementation continues today with minimal transparency. Lukashenka maintains vague, noncommittal rhetoric, but the direction is clear: Moscow is embedding itself deeper into the Belarusian state. If enacted in full, these reforms would strip Belarus of real independence in key areas of governance.

The most sensitive areas—oil, gas, taxation, and customs—expose the imbalance. While the creation of a joint energy market remains stalled and more controversial steps like a single currency or union parliament have been deferred, integration is advancing quietly. A unified tax system is particularly telling. It includes a common policy, a supranational committee, and a Russian-designed digital platform with access to centralized taxpayer data. Lukashenka insists Belarus still makes its own decisions, but Moscow now has unprecedented access to its economic infrastructure.

The same dynamic plays out in customs. Lukashenka’s proposed joint customs group, framed as merely advisory, opens the door to deeper dependency. The more Russia shapes Belarus’s regulatory and administrative frameworks, the less independent Minsk becomes as bureaucracies are built to serve Moscow’s interests.

Technically, Belarus retains sovereignty—just as other members of Russia-led blocs do, including the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) and the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO). These alliances offer the illusion of multilateralism, but are structured to preserve Russian dominance. 

Russia’s intentions are not subtle. In a 2021 essay, Putin asserted that Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians form a “triune Russian nation,” denying Belarus a distinct identity. Lukashenka has echoed this logic, repeatedly affirming Belarus’s eternal closeness to Russia. Yet he continues to resist full annexation. Maintaining the appearance of sovereignty helps him contain domestic resistance and preserve what limited international engagement remains. For now, Russia seems content with this arrangement: decisive control without the complications of formal annexation.

Most Belarusians support independence. But every concession, every road map, chips away at the country’s ability to determine its future. Lukashenka has traded that future to retain power. Belarus remains a state in name—but, increasingly, a satellite in function.

Military merger: From troublesome ally to armed outpost

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, NATO’s eastern flank faced a new reality. Belarus opened its skies, railways, and military infrastructure to support Moscow’s assault.

What began as logistical support has since evolved into something far more permanent: the transformation of Belarus into a de facto military outpost of the Russian state. Behind the facade of sovereignty, Lukashenka’s regime has traded independence for protection, welcoming Russian troops, hardware, and even nuclear weapons onto Belarusian soil.

Before 2022, Russia’s permanent military presence in Belarus was limited to two Soviet-era facilities: the Hantsavichy missile warning station and the Vileyka naval communication center. Moscow sought to expand its footprint as early as 2013, aiming for permanent bases and deploying fighter jets. But Lukashenka resisted. Particularly after Russia’s annexation of Crimea and armed intervention in the Donbas in early 2014, he avoided the optics of occupation, maintaining the appearance of a balancing act between the East and West. He hosted the Minsk peace talks, freed some political prisoners, courted Western engagement, and even refrained from recognizing Crimea’s annexation, while publicly mocking the Kremlin’s “Russian World” ideology.

That balancing act ended after the August 2020 fraudulent election and the mass protests that followed, when Lukashenka relied heavily on Moscow’s political and security support to stay in power. In early February 2022 Belarus held a constitutional referendum—under conditions of repression and with no genuine debate—that ended the country’s nuclear-free status. The timing was no coincidence: Within days, Russia launched its invasion of Ukraine. And Belarus was complicit from day one.

Since then, Belarus has allowed its territory and infrastructure to be used by Russian forces. Military and civilian airfields—including Homiel airport—have served as operational hubs for launching missile and drone attacks, conducting maintenance, and supporting logistics for Russian military operations against Ukraine.

But Belarus provided more than runways. Its integrated air defense systems, navigation networks, and flight control infrastructure supported Russian operations. The Mazyr Oil Refinery fueled the war machine. Belarusian railways became arteries of invasion, shuttling tanks, troops, and ammunition across the Ukrainian border. Belarusian roads, depots, and logistics hubs sustained the assault on Kyiv.

​​By December 2022, the depth of this integration became unmistakable. Putin announced that Belarusian SU-25 aircraft would be modified to carry nuclear weapons and that Russia’s Iskander-M missile systems—capable of carrying nuclear payloads—had been delivered to Belarus. Because the operational control remained with Russia, the symbolic shift was profound.

Russian President Vladimir Putin and Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko take part in a signing ceremony following a meeting of the Supreme State Council of the Union State of Russia and Belarus in Minsk, Belarus December 6, 2024. Sputnik/Gavriil Grigorov/Pool via REUTERS.

Meanwhile, Belarus’s defense industry quietly joined the war effort: repairing Russian tanks, modernizing aircraft, and supplying optical systems for missiles. Trains loaded with weapons and parts began moving in both directions, solidifying a more profound military-industrial interdependence.

Between February 2022 and March 2023, more than seven hundred missiles were launched from Belarus into Ukraine. However, as the front lines stabilized, Belarus’s role shifted from an active launchpad to a strategic rear base.

In October 2022, as Ukrainian counteroffensives gained ground, Minsk and Moscow activated the Regional Grouping of Forces (RGF), a bilateral military formation that provided legal cover for new Russian deployments. Around nine thousand Russian troops, along with hundreds of tanks and artillery systems, arrived in Belarus under a joint command. The RGF marked a turning point: ad hoc cooperation became institutionalized military integration.

By mid-2023, most Russian troops deployed under the RGF had withdrawn, likely due to manpower constraints elsewhere. But the infrastructure remained—ready for rapid reactivation.

In March 2023, Putin announced that Russia had reached an agreement with Belarus to station tactical nuclear weapons on Belarusian territory, with the construction of a special storage facility to be completed by July. The establishment of a Russian military base complete with nuclear weapons would significantly increase Moscow’s leverage over Belarus and cement Putin’s grip on the country.

By early 2023, Belarusian crews had completed training on using the Iskander tactical missile system for potential nuclear strikes. However, independent monitors have found no visual evidence of actual nuclear weapon deployments in Belarus, casting doubt on whether Moscow’s nuclear rhetoric reflects the reality on the ground.

Throughout 2024, Belarus adopted a new military doctrine that codified deeper integration with Russia’s armed forces. For the first time, it explicitly allowed the deployment and potential use of Russian tactical nuclear weapons on Belarusian territory—framed as a deterrent against external threats. In practice, the doctrine handed Moscow strategic leverage near NATO’s borders, while letting Lukashenka claim a protective nuclear umbrella at home. The price was a further erosion of Belarusian autonomy.

Even as Russian MiG-31K fighters armed with hypersonic Kinzhal missiles maintained their presence on Belarusian territory, keeping Ukraine’s air defenses on constant alert, the relationship was becoming institutionalized rather than episodic.

In December 2024, Russia and Belarus signed the Treaty on Security Guarantees under the Union State framework. The agreement enabled permanent Russian bases and deployments in Belarus and committed both sides to mutual defense—including in response to threats against “sovereignty” or “constitutional order.” It further folded Belarus into Russia’s nuclear deterrence strategy.

As of mid-2025, roughly two thousand Russian military personnel remain in Belarus, including air defense units and aerospace forces. Russian operations continue from key locations, such as the Mazyr (Bokau) and Ziabrauka airfields.

New satellite imagery from May 2025 revealed expanded infrastructure at the Asipovichy base: new fencing, loading platforms, and air defenses—all consistent with preparations for storing and potentially deploying tactical nuclear weapons.

While Belarus has gestured toward de-escalation, suggesting it might scale back the Zapad-2025 joint exercises with Russia, these moves are largely symbolic and likely reflect Russia’s shifting priorities on the battlefield rather than a genuine reduction in military activity. In September, separate large-scale drills took place—both the Zapad-2025 exercises and joint CSTO operations—keeping the region on edge. 

Meanwhile, Minsk confirmed plans to host the Oreshnik missile system; Russia has already used this system in strikes against Ukraine. For Lukashenka, this is both a pledge of loyalty to Putin and a way to remain strategically indispensable.

In less than three years, Belarus has transitioned from a reluctant ally to a satellite state. Lukashenka has surrendered control over the country’s military and security policy in exchange for Kremlin backing. The result: Belarus is now a forward base for Russian aggression—potentially with nuclear weapons.

This development reshapes NATO’s eastern frontier, attempts to legitimize the forward deployment of Russian nuclear assets, and dismantles the boundaries between sovereign ally and subjugated proxy. The implications are stark. A former buffer state has become a Russian military outpost. Belarus is on the front line of Russia’s war against Ukraine and the West. 

From fence-sitter to foot soldier: How Belarus lost its foreign policy

After Lukashenka spent decades creating the illusion of maneuvering between the East and West to preserve regime autonomy, poof—it’s gone. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Belarus’s foreign policy has collapsed into a one-way street leading straight to Moscow.

Facing sweeping Western sanctions and mounting isolation, the Belarusian regime claims to be pivoting toward Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Officials describe this reorientation as a strategic reset, aimed at offsetting annual losses estimated at $16 billion to $18 billion due to sanctions. But the pivot is largely rhetorical. Minsk’s global engagement has narrowed to improvised alliances, symbolic gestures, and tactical outreach.

Lukashenka’s facade of neutrality—avoiding recognition of Russia’s annexation of Crimea and refraining from endorsement of Kremlin claims over Abkhazia and South Ossetia—crumbled in 2021 when he acknowledged Crimea as Russian territory. By 2024, he was hosting bilateral meetings with Denis Pushilin, the Moscow-backed head of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic.

At the United Nations, Belarus has become one of Moscow’s most reliable allies. On March 2, 2022, it was one of just five countries to vote against a resolution condemning Russia’s invasion of Ukraine—alongside North Korea, Eritrea, Syria, and Russia itself. Diplomatic independence has all but evaporated.

Western sanctions have gutted Belarus’s traditional export markets. In 2019, Belarus exported goods valued at $8.5 billion to the EU. By 2024, that figure had dropped to just over $1 billion. Potash, oil products, and timber—key sources of revenue—have been hard-hit.

In response, Lukashenka launched an outreach campaign focused on the Global South. He visited Equatorial GuineaKenya, and Zimbabwe, promising closer ties and “anti-colonial solidarity.” Yet these trips have produced little beyond vague memoranda and photo ops. The case of Zimbabwe is telling: Lukashenka offered tractors and equipment, and trade reached $25 million in 2021. More significant, however, are Belarusian elite links to Zimbabwe’s gold and lithium sectors, and growing military ties between the two regimes. These are not signs of diversification, but transactions rooted in authoritarian clientelism.

Nowhere is the asymmetry of Belarus’s foreign policy more visible than in its relationship with China. While Minsk promotes Beijing as a key partner, the reality is marked by caution, imbalance, and diminishing returns. Lukashenka’s fifteenth visit to Beijing, delayed until June 2025, was described in state media as “family style,” which sounds like a cozy familiarity but produced no major agreements. 

Belarus remains a logistical node in China’s Belt and Road Initiative, but its value has declined amid the war in Ukraine and Western sanctions. In 2024, Lukashenka announced fifteen new “strategic” Chinese investment projects totaling three billion dollars, but much of this support is conditional and geared toward Chinese interests. The China-Belarus Industrial Park Great Stone lacks fresh momentum. With Western investors gone, it increasingly targets Russian and domestic firms.

Belarus’s 2024 accession to the Shanghai Cooperation Organization was meant to signal a turn from the West. In practice, trade with China is lopsided. Belarus exports potash and foodstuffs, while importing higher-value Chinese machinery and electronics. Belarusian defense firms are incorporating Chinese components into optics used by Russian tanks. In July 2024, Chinese and Belarusian troops held joint drills near NATO’s borders. The two countries have also codeveloped the Polonez multiple-launch rocket system.

Even as formal economic cooperation stalls, Lukashenka remains politically useful to Beijing. His public support for China on the status of Taiwan and Hong Kong reinforces shared authoritarian alignment. As China expands its global reach, Belarus’s transit infrastructure may retain some relevance. But the broader partnership remains shallow. China is watching carefully, but is not investing heavily. Not yet.

With traditional diplomacy in ruins, Minsk has embraced a model of “shadow diplomacy,” a murky blend of military deals, sanctions evasion, and autocratic alignment. The United Arab Emirates (UAE) has emerged as a key enabler. A UAE-based company acquired the Belarusian arm of Austria’s Raiffeisen Bank after it came under pressure to exit. Investigative journalists from the Belarusian Investigative Center and the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project network have alleged Dubai’s involvement in laundering Belarusian assets through shell companies.

Ties with Iran have deepened. Since 2023, Minsk and Tehran have signed a string of defense agreements. A 2023 Kyiv Post article, citing unconfirmed reports and Western analysts, suggested Belarus may begin producing Iranian Shahed drones. During the 2024 military parade in Minsk, Belarus showcased its domestically produced “Geran” strike drones—closely resembling the Iranian Shahed-136 model widely used by Russia in Ukraine—marking their first public appearance. Defense ministers have met repeatedly, underscoring the growing military dimension of the partnership.

Meanwhile, Belarus is bypassing Western restrictions via new trade corridors. In 2024, the port of Makhachkala in Dagestan began handling Belarusian potash as part of the North-South Transport Corridor linking Russia and Iran.

Despite occasional overtures, such as Lukashenka’s claimed willingness to mediate peace or restore dialogue with Washington, the regime shows no signs of meaningful reform. Recent prisoner releases have been tokenistic, used as bargaining chips rather than a shift in policy.

Belarus’s foreign messaging now mirrors the Kremlin’s almost entirely. From Ukraine to NATO to US policy, Minsk speaks with Moscow’s voice. The country that once sought to straddle the East-West divide has become, decisively, a satellite of its eastern neighbor.

Hostile takeover: Russia’s control of Belarus’s economy

Since 2020, Belarus has undergone a profound economic shift: not toward growth or innovation, but into near-total dependence on Russia. What may look to some like recovery is, in fact, economic subjugation. Following a 4.7 percent decline in gross domestic product (GDP) in 2022 due to Western sanctions, the Belarusian economy rebounded by 4 percent in 2024, according to the World Bank. But this growth was driven to a large extent by Russian demand. Today, nearly every major Belarusian export, investment, and banking channel runs through Moscow. Belarusian factories feed Putin’s war machine, the Russian ruble dominates the Belarusian ruble, and tens of thousands of skilled workers have fled to EU countries. This is not a partnership—it’s an economic takeover. Russia no longer needs troops in Belarus to control it; it already controls the country through trade, credit, and industry.

State-owned enterprises have been systematically repurposed to support the Kremlin’s war in Ukraine. Electronics firms like Integral and JSC Planar, once producers of civilian components, now supply Russian weapons manufacturers. Backed by nearly $120 million in Russian investment, Integral produces microchips found in Russian cruise missiles. Legmash in Orsha, which once manufactured textile machinery, now produces components for the Grad multiple rocket launchers. StankoGomel builds machine tools for the Russian arms industry. Textile giant Mogotex signed a contract with Chechnya’s Erzu to produce military uniforms.

Even before the full-scale invasion, Belarus played a significant role in Russia’s military supply chains, but recent disclosures reveal a dramatic escalation. By early 2025, according to BelPol, a group of anti-regime former security officers, at least 287 Belarusian state enterprises have become involved in producing weapons, components, or munitions for Russia, with the real figure potentially approaching 500 when private firms are included. Belarusian factories now manufacture or supply everything from artillery shells and rocket parts to drones and electronics components, making the country a crucial node in the Russian military-industrial complex.

Belarus’s economy has long mirrored its authoritarian politics: centralized, state-controlled, and resistant to market reforms. Under Lukashenka, state-owned enterprises still account for more than half of GDP. This Soviet-style model prioritizes loyalty over innovation—a vulnerability Putin has exploited. 

Today, up to 70 percent of Belarus’s exports flow to Russia. When including transit through Russian-controlled ports and railways, Moscow effectively controls more than 90 percent of Belarus’s outbound trade.

This near-total dependence extends beyond simple trade flows. With traditional European export routes blocked, Belarus has become locked into Russian transit corridors. In 2023, Belarusian exporters utilized twenty Russian ports, double the number from the previous year. Even goods destined for third countries must pass through Russia, inflating costs and shrinking profit margins. Key exports, such as potash and oil products, are especially vulnerable, with state-owned producer Belaruskali facing costly delays at Russian-controlled ports.

Moreover, Belarus’s fiscal survival depends almost entirely on Russian support. The country owes roughly eight billion dollars in intergovernmental loans to Russia, making it Moscow’s largest debtor. Last year, Russia granted a seven-year deferral on debt repayments—effectively writing a blank check to preserve Lukashenka’s loyalty.

The Belarusian ruble is informally pegged to a currency basket, half of which is the Russian ruble, meaning it rises and falls with Moscow’s economic fortunes, limiting Minsk’s ability to pursue an independent monetary policy.

Russian banks now handle an increasing share of Belarusian exports, while local financial institutions have been integrated into Russia’s payment and messaging systems. Western sanctions have forced Belarus to adopt Russian digital infrastructure—from tax administration tools to consumer payment platforms—further eroding what remains of its economic sovereignty.

In 2024, more than half of foreign direct investment in Belarus came from Russia. Under the banner of “import substitution” and joint ventures, Russian firms aren’t merely filling gaps left by departing Western companies, they’re systematically displacing Belarusian competitors in a quiet economic conquest.

For Belarusian manufacturers, access to the Russian market represents both a lifeline and a trap. The more dependent they become on Russian demand, the more vulnerable they are to Moscow’s political whims. In critical sectors, Russia has evolved from the largest customer to the sole customer, giving Putin effective veto power over Belarus’s industrial base.

This process is hollowing out Belarus’s economy from within. Domestic policies—such as price freezes and retaliatory sanctions—have only added strain. Prices are rising, and consumer choice is shrinking. When Lukashenka occasionally pushes back, such as blocking McDonald’s rebranding to Russia’s “Vkusno i Tochka” (which means “Tasty, Period”) and instead insisting on a Belarusian brand, these gestures prove meaningless against the broader trajectory of economic surrender.

Nowhere is Belarus’s decline more visible than in its once-thriving information technology (IT) sector, formerly a symbol of innovation and Western integration. The transformation has been devastating: IT exports plummeted 45 percent from $3.2 billion in 2021 to $1.8 billion in 2023, while the sector shed over 19,000 workers.

Russian investors, who previously comprised just 10 percent of foreign IT involvement, now account for nearly a third of the market. While these contracts offer short-term stability, they represent a strategic dead end: constraining growth potential, limiting global market access, and tying Belarus’s technological future to Russia’s isolated digital ecosystem.

The brain drain extends beyond IT. As Belarus’s most talented professionals flee westward, the country loses not just individual expertise but entire innovation networks that took decades to build. This hemorrhaging of human capital ensures Belarus’s long-term economic stagnation regardless of short-term Russian subsidies.

Cultural hegemony: The appropriation of media and education 

Moscow is attempting to methodically redefine what it means to be Belarusian. Since the mass protests following the flawed election of August 2020, the Kremlin has fused its propaganda machine with Minsk’s state media, rewritten school curricula, and flooded the cultural sphere with programming promoting “brotherly unity.” The objective is unmistakable: erase the idea that Belarus can stand apart from Russia.

Russian cash and consultants now dictate prime-time narratives across Belarusian television. A joint history textbook portrays Belarus as a junior branch of Russian civilization, while concert stages and museums celebrate Kremlin-approved myths, silencing dissenting voices. This soft-power offensive, reinforced by Lukashenka’s brutal repression, amounts to a slow-motion annexation of memory and identity.

The transformation began in August 2020, when Belarusian state media workers walked off the job to protest the regime’s violent crackdown on peaceful demonstrators. Almost immediately, rumors spread that Russian journalists—particularly from Kremlin-backed outlets like RT—had replaced them. Lukashenka fueled the speculation by publicly thanking Russian media, while RT admitted only to “advising” local teams.

Soon after, state channels began parroting Moscow’s talking points. Anti-Western and anti-Ukrainian rhetoric surged. When Russia launched its 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Lukashenka was framed as a bystander, even as Belarusian territory was used as a launchpad for missile strikes and military operations. 

Russia isn’t just influencing Belarusian media—it’s bankrolling it. In 2025, a new Union State joint media holding is set to launch with a budget of one billion Russian rubles (approximately eleven million dollars), headquartered in Moscow with a representative office in Minsk. The venture will encompass television, radio, and print outlets, marking a significant step toward media integration under Kremlin direction. In February, RT hosted a two-day “media school” at the Russian House in Minsk, an unmistakable effort to cultivate a new generation of regime-aligned Belarusian journalists.

Independent outlets, by contrast, are suffocating. Since 2020, the Information Ministry has blocked about eighteen thousand websites, branding nearly seven thousand as “extremist.” Dozens of newsrooms have fled abroad; those that remain work under constant threat. For most Belarusians, uncensored news is becoming increasingly scarce.

After the 2020 protests, the regime also sharply curtailed academic freedom. Student activism is met with expulsions, imprisonment, forced “repentance” videos, and mobile court trials held at universities. The government has intensified its ideological campaign, blaming “internet technologies” and foreign influence for corrupting students and responding with stricter controls on campus life.

This campaign extends into all areas of student life. In 2023, Belarus’s largest university banned Valentine’s Day, citing it as “too Western,” following a previous ban on Halloween for similar reasons. Since 2024, military training has been introduced into curricula, and even kindergartens now host military-themed events.

The state is also strangling educational choice. Licensing rules adopted in 2022 shut dozens of private schools and those that have survived face intrusive oversight. Belarusian-language teaching is in decline: Fewer than one in ten pupils study it, and no university offers a full Belarusian curriculum. In 1999, 86 percent of citizens identified Belarusian as their native language; by 2019, that figure had dropped to 61 percent and continued to fall.

At the same time, Belarusians are being steered toward Russian universities. State‑funded places for Belarusians at Russian universities jumped from 72 in 2019 to 1,300 in 2023—plus an unprecedented 30,000‑seat quota through the Rossotrudnichestvo exchange program. The Kremlin is grooming a generation whose professional networks and intellectual loyalties lie in the East, not the West.

Russia’s cultural dominance in Belarus has grown in parallel with its political and media influence. Joint exhibitions, concerts, and museum partnerships—especially those highlighting shared military history—further embed Belarus within Russia’s ideological orbit.

Events like the Slavianski Bazaar celebrate “Slavic unity,” but the content increasingly serves pro-Kremlin narratives. Russian artists who openly support Moscow’s foreign policy are welcomed, while Belarusian and Western performers and authors critical of the war in Ukraine or Lukashenka’s regime are banned.

Since 2020, independent Belarusian culture has been gutted. State funding has shifted toward Russian-backed projects, leaving little room for local voices. The result is a cultural landscape where Belarus’s distinct identity is increasingly blurred and, in many cases, erased.

What Belarusians really want

Most Belarusians aren’t choosing Russia’s path—they’re being dragged down it.

While the Kremlin tightens its grip on Belarus’s military, economy, and foreign policy, public opinion tells a very different story. Independent polling consistently shows that the Belarusian people reject war, oppose Russian nuclear deployments, and are uneasy about their country’s deepening dependence on Moscow.

Over 85 percent of Belarusians oppose sending troops to fight in Russia’s war against Ukraine, and more than half disapprove of missile attacks launched from Belarusian soil. These numbers have remained remarkably stable over time, signaling deep and consistent anti-war sentiment that transcends political divisions. Belarusians want stability, but not if it means becoming a launchpad for Russian aggression.

Russian nuclear weapons represent another red line. Two-thirds of Belarusians oppose their deployment on Belarusian territory, though support has ticked up slightly since Moscow reportedly moved tactical nuclear weapons into the country in 2023. This resistance to militarization extends to broader security arrangements. Support for remaining in the Russia-led Collective Security Treaty Organization dropped from 63 percent in 2020 to 54 percent in 2023. When Russia invaded Ukraine, more Belarusians briefly preferred remaining outside any military bloc than staying in the CSTO—showing growing distrust of Russian-led alliances. These trends suggest Belarusians are not deeply attached to such alliances and may be open to neutrality or alternative security options.

Geopolitical preferences reveal a more complex picture. While half of Belarusians still back an alliance with Russia, 16 percent favor alignment with the EU, and 30 percent support neutrality. More telling, 57 percent believe Belarus should improve ties with the EU, with 37 percent specifically wanting stronger trade relationships.

Support for NATO remains low, between 6 percent and 11 percent, typically, but this reflects mistrust on all sides, limited access to open debate, and years of regime-driven anti-Western messaging rather than wholehearted embrace of Russia. Importantly, even among those who back integration with Russia, few envision a single state. Belarusians may accept cooperation, but not annexation.

Media access explains much of this complexity. Among those who rely on state-controlled media, 63 percent support closer ties with Russia and only 2 percent support EU integration. However, among consumers of independent media, the numbers flip: 44 percent support moving toward Europe, while just 11 percent back greater integration with Russia.

This data point carries profound implications for Western strategy. Propaganda works, but only when it monopolizes the conversation. Where independent journalism survives, even underground or in exile, it shapes opinions and maintains space for alternative futures. Belarusians who access independent information are more likely to oppose war, support Ukraine, and envision a sovereign development path.

The regime may have crushed street protests, but resistance persists through underground sabotage, cyber leaks, and digital dissent. These aren’t isolated acts of defiance; they signal a society that refuses to surrender its agency.

Belarusians are not ideologues. They are pragmatic. While geopolitical views are fragmented, public support for economic reforms is strong. Nearly 80 percent support fair competition between the public and private sectors. Most also want stock market development, tax cuts for small businesses, and less state interference.

That said, there are anxieties. Inflation, shrinking social safety nets, and the risk of economic shock are real concerns. Attitudes are nuanced: people support market mechanisms but fear short-term pain. Trust in the business elite is limited, but support for entrepreneurship is high.

The regime’s choices do not reflect the will of the Belarusian people. Most Belarusians oppose the war, reject nuclear deployments, and favor neutrality over dependence on Moscow. Despite repression and propaganda, quiet resistance persists: in attitudes, media habits, and daily acts of dissent. This gap between state and society is strategic. The regime is brittle; the people are not. Western policy must begin here: Belarus is not lost, and its future is still in play.

Conclusion

Belarus has not been formally annexed, but it has been absorbed. Militarily, politically, economically, and culturally, it has become a Russian outpost: a launchpad for aggression and repression alike. Yet this transformation is not complete, and it is not irreversible. The Belarusian regime survives through coercion and dependence, not legitimacy. Beneath the surface lies a society that still aspires to sovereignty, stability, and connection to the democratic world.

This report has shown how absorption happened, sector by sector—but also why it matters. A captive Belarus threatens NATO’s flank, enables Kremlin aggression, and offers a template for authoritarian consolidation elsewhere. For the United States and its allies, the time to act is now. Containing Russia, defending Europe, and supporting democracy all run through Minsk. The path to long-term regional security runs not only through Kyiv but also through a free and sovereign Belarus.

Belarus in the balance: Strategic recommendations for US and allied policy

The West can no longer afford to treat Belarus as a sideshow. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Belarus has become a critical platform for Kremlin aggression: militarily, economically, and ideologically. Restoring Belarusian sovereignty is now a strategic imperative for NATO’s eastern security and the broader defense of democratic values.

To counter Belarus’s deepening alignment with Russia, Western policymakers must adopt a four-part strategy: reframe Belarus as a frontline issue, enforce synchronized pressure, build democratic resilience, and prepare for regime rupture.

First, the United States must elevate Belarus as a national security priority. It should be fully integrated into NATO and EU threat assessments, treated alongside Ukraine and the Baltic states in strategic planning. Russian bases, nuclear deployments, and hybrid threats from Belarus are not theoretical: They are already altering Europe’s security landscape.

Second, sanctions must be expanded, enforced, and fully aligned with allies. Belarus is a central hub for sanctions evasion and war logistics, leveraging smuggling networks, trade rerouting, and Russian support. The United States, the EU, and the Group of Seven should synchronize measures against Belarus’s military-industrial complex, financial institutions, and dual-use sectors, extend secondary sanctions to enablers in China, Iran, and elsewhere, and close loopholes to raise the cost of Minsk’s subjugation to Moscow and deter further aggression.

Third, pressure must be matched by investment in Belarusian democratic infrastructure. This includes independent media, secure digital tools, exile education, and cultural preservation. These aren’t symbolic; they sustain the capacity for democratic self-rule and offer a credible alternative to Kremlin domination.

American leadership is vital. Appointing a US special envoy for the Belarusian democratic forces would centralize policy coordination and ensure Belarus stays on the transatlantic agenda. Belarusian democratic leaders must also be present in any future diplomatic process on postwar regional security. No high-level engagement with Lukashenka should resume until more than one thousand political prisoners are freed. 

Thanks to US mediation, a number of Belarusian political prisoners and foreign nationals have been freed this year. This humanitarian track should continue. However, it is crucial not to legitimize Lukashenka or ease pressure prematurely. The United States must adopt long-term strategic thinking on Belarus. Ultimately, Western policy should be guided by the understanding that only a democratic Belarus can ensure lasting stability for the entire region.

Finally, contingency planning is essential. Lukashenka’s regime is fragile. The West must be prepared for scenarios ranging from internal collapse to Russian destabilization. Planning should cover political transition, humanitarian assistance, and infrastructure security. Clear public guarantees of post-Lukashenka support—from economic aid to security cooperation—could hasten regime erosion and incentivize elite defections.

Belarus’s future must be embedded in the broader strategy to end the war in Ukraine and roll back authoritarian influence. A free Belarus would deny Moscow a key launchpad, reduce NATO’s exposure, and weaken Russian and Chinese leverage in the region.

The window for action is narrowing. A coherent Western strategy that combines pressure with preparation can still tip the balance.

Read the full issue brief

About the author

Hanna Liubakova is a Belarusian journalist and political analyst. She is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council and has reported on developments in Belarus for international outlets including the Washington Post, the Economist, and others.

Liubakova began her career at Belsat TV, the only independent Belarusian television channel, which has been banned by the regime in Minsk. She later worked for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) in Prague, Czechia, and is currently writing a book about Belarus.

Her reporting has earned multiple honors, including the Freedom of the Media Award from the Transatlantic Leadership Network and the One Young World Journalist of the Year Award. She was also a finalist for the European Press Prize. In retaliation for her work, the Lukashenka regime sentenced her in absentia to ten years in prison. She is wanted by authorities in Russia and across all Commonwealth of Independent States countries.

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The future of food in the Americas https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/the-future-of-food-in-the-americas/ Tue, 11 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=883923 Though the Americas have traditionally been a food-secure region, even moderate shocks can have profound consequences for agriculture. But there are concrete steps policymakers can take to protect the Western Hemisphere's breadbaskets from climate disruption, rising protectionism, and other risks. 

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Bottom lines up front

  • The Americas have traditionally been a food-secure region, but interlocking ecological, technological, and political trends could change that.
  • Ecological risks pose the greatest threat to hemispheric food production, though rising protectionism and the resultant market uncertainty also have a destabilizing effect.
  • There is little margin for error, as even moderate shocks can have profound consequences, and food insecurity raises the risk of political and social instability.

Table of contents

Introduction

Food security is at the core of national, regional, and global security. When societies are food secure, they stand a much greater chance of social and political stability; when they are food insecure, the opposite is true. Fortunately, the Western Hemisphere—the Americas—is a food-secure region. Although access to food is an ongoing challenge deserving greater attention in every country (as there are hungry people across the hemisphere), food abundance generally characterizes the Americas. Historically, the hemisphere has owed its unique position to several factors: a favorable natural resource base; equally benign geopolitical conditions; and extensive public and private cooperation to improve production methods and support innovation.

However, the future is not guaranteed to look like the past. Several key drivers of change are afoot that could alter the trajectory of hemispheric food security. These drivers bring with them uncertain outcomes, alternatively threatening the stability and productivity of current agrifood systems or offering hope that they could become even stronger and more resilient in the years to come.

This report assesses the future of food in the Western Hemisphere. It focuses on the major uncertainties that are driving change in the agrifood systems within the hemisphere and the world. These drivers represent risks or opportunities, and sometimes both. They include the decline of healthy and stable ecosystems, rapidly changing geopolitics, the erosion of multilateral institutions, increasingly inflationary and volatile food prices, the promise of innovation and emerging technologies, and generational shifts in farming and agricultural production.

These forces are not siloed. Rather, they intersect. There might be an awareness that these individual drivers of change represent obstacles to (or opportunities for) achieving durable food-security solutions in the future, yet many leaders see them as isolated challenges rather than as intersecting ones, obscuring the bigger picture.

The drivers discussed in this report therefore are not just accumulating layers of risks and opportunities. Rather, their interaction multiplies the system’s dynamism. This emerging dynamism will require policymakers, business leaders, investors, and farmers to find innovative solutions in the face of a rapidly changing, and not entirely predictable, agrifood landscape. Yet such outlooks may not arise. Complacency is a big risk, if leaders believe that the status quo will continue to improve, requiring changes only at the margins. In such a situation, the hemisphere would become far more vulnerable to unexpected shocks because there would not be enough appreciation for how ecological, technological, geopolitical, and institutional changes are reshaping the future.

This concern is not hyperbolic. A very recent external shock—the COVID-19 pandemic—erased major progress that the hemisphere had made on reducing hunger, which should remind us that the foundations of food security remain shaky. Looking ahead, there is little margin for error, as even moderate shocks can have profound consequences.

Flint corn, seeds, beans, peppers, and other dried goods are displayed on a wooden wall-mounted rack in the indigenous town of Zinacantán, México. (Unsplash/Alan De La Cruz)

Food, society, and politics

Food security is at the core of national, regional, hemispheric, and global security. When societies are food secure, they stand a much greater chance of social and political stability; when they are food insecure, the opposite is true.

This axiom, although a simple one, has been demonstrated time and again throughout history. High food prices occasioned by war, poor harvests, or high taxation of the peasantry (or all three) preceded the onset of the French Revolution in 1789 and the Russian revolutions of 1905 and 1917, to name just a couple of famous examples from history.

Today, despite far greater agricultural production at national and global levels, such disturbances still recur with alarming frequency: The 2007–2008 food riots across Africa followed commodity price spikes for agricultural inputs (oil, principally) that inflated the price of food; the 2010–2011 Arab Spring was preceded by food-price spikes owing to multiple breadbasket harvest failures across several world regions; and Russia’s war in Ukraine, which disrupted wheat, fertilizer, and natural gas exports, blocked the flow of agricultural inputs and outputs and dramatically raised food prices globally. Millions of additional people became food insecure around the world.

No other good has such an impact on society and politics as food because people need to eat every day. “Food riots are as old as civilization itself,” as one food security analyst summarized the impact of food on social and political stability. Often, it will only take a single big food-price shock to change social and political dynamics within a country or even an entire region. Although high food prices have a disproportionately negative impact on vulnerable, poor, and fragile countries, they also can have an outsized impact on otherwise wealthy and stable ones. Japan offers a recent example. In July 2025, soaring rice prices in Japan directly contributed to the defeat of Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba’s Liberal Democratic Party in parliamentary elections.

The Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) adopted a definition of food security at the 1996 World Food Summit (see box 1 for the history of the concept), which has persisted with only slight revision:

  • Food security exists when all people, at all times, have physical, social, and economic access to sufficient safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.

This definition contains four main dimensions, or pillars:

  1. The physical, supply-side availability of food, typically assessed at the national level and consisting of domestic agricultural production plus food imports.
  2. Household access to food, which is dependent on household incomes and food prices (set by a combination of market and nonmarket forces).
  3. Nutritional intake by individuals, which is not the same thing as caloric intake; nutrition depends in part on dietary diversity.
  4. Stability of the first three pillars over time.

A couple important pieces of the food security puzzle are missing from this formulation. One is ecological stability. Food security depends on the sustainability of the underlying Earth systems that are essential to food production. Maintaining the integrity of these Earth systems, including the integrity of the world’s soils, water, biodiversity, nutrients, and atmospheric conditions (precipitation and temperature, primarily), is critical. A second missing piece is the stability of the international systems, specifically stability of a rules-based trading order that ensures that food moves easily from food-surplus to food-deficit countries. Such a trading order improves food security through enhancing agriculture productivity and (under emergency conditions) enables swift distribution of humanitarian aid in the form of food. Such a system helps to avoid trade conflicts and establishes international norms for the notion that food security is in the collective interest and responsibility of all parties.

The capacity of the current international system to encourage global production and trade in food has increased over time, dramatically so over the past several decades: The FAO reported that in 2021, the world traded some 5,000 trillion kilocalories of food, more than double the amount that it did in 2000. A central piece of this equation has been the existence of key multilateral institutions that have had the credibility and authority to provide a forum for states to negotiate trade agreements, resolve trade disputes, and monitor and enforce commitments.

None of these conditions should be treated as a given. Looking ahead, the odds are high that the world will become more dynamic rather than less so, with no guarantee that dynamism will have more upside than downside. To adapt and thrive within changing conditions (with both positive and negative impacts), the world’s agrifood systems will need to become more resilient and adaptable. The good news is that humankind has the tools—or can develop the necessary tools—to ensure such outcomes.

Box 1: Food security: History of a concept
Although concerns surrounding hunger and famine are ancient, dating to human prehistory, the formal concept of food security is only about a half century old. Its institutional origins are often traced to a 1974 World Food Conference that defined the concept in terms of the global supply of food. The thinking at the time linked hunger with global supply (chiefly of staple crops, especially cereals), the idea being that hunger would be solved through adequate supply. Over the following decades, the concept of food security evolved in multiple key respects including: moving away from a sole focus on food supply and toward food distribution and access, especially by households and individuals; an acknowledgment that food security is not just a function of quantitative intake of calories but also of nutrition; the acceptance that importing food is a legitimate national means of achieving food security (as opposed to defining a food-secure country as one that domestically produces the entirety of its needs); an incorporation of social considerations (for example, inequalities in food access owing to ethnicity or gender). The definition adopted at the 1996 World Food Summit has become the default definition of food security: “Food security exists when all people, at all times, have physical, social, and economic access to sufficient, safe and nutritious food to meet their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life.” (The word “social” in this definition postdates the 1996 summit.)

Food security in the Americas

The Western Hemisphere is in a fortunate position regarding agriculture and food. Its natural endowment is significant, consisting of arable soils and plentiful rainfall distributed across numerous regions suitable for agriculture (temperate, subtropical, and tropical). The hemisphere’s highly productive agriculture benefits from relatively stable political and economic environments, medium-to-high income levels, and reasonably well-functioning domestic and international markets, all stimulated by public, private, and academic sector investments in agricultural research and development (R&D).

As a result, the hemisphere’s aggregate production capacity in both staple and specialized crops gives it an indispensable role in providing domestic food security but also meeting the world’s food needs.

There are several caveats to this picture, which this report endeavors to make clear. First, several driving forces are changing baseline conditions that will alter the hemisphere’s future, for better or worse. Second, the Americas might be fortunate in many respects, but it is not a single bloc of countries acting in unison. Trade disputes, unfortunately, are becoming a sharper and more common part of the hemisphere’s diplomatic landscape, for example. Finally, as this report also makes clear, food security is not just about supply-side agricultural production. Food insecurity remains a problem in the Americas as it does everywhere in the world.

Supply side: Agricultural production
in the Americas

The five largest primary crop producing countries (by tonnage) in the world are all in the Americas: Brazil, the United States, Argentina, Mexico, and Canada. As shown in table 1 and figure 1, the hemisphere also contains top exporters of all four primary crops: soybeans, corn, wheat, and rice. The largest producers of food in the Americas are, therefore, critical for ensuring global food security. What happens in the region matters greatly, because developments in the Americas have an outsized effect on global trade in food.

In addition to the largest primary crop producers, the Americas also lead in the production of a wide range of specialty crops, including coffee, avocados, lemons, limes, oranges, blueberries, cranberries, quinoa, almonds, and more. Numerous countries in the hemisphere are leading producers of these crops. For example, Peru is in the top three global producers of avocados, blueberries, and quinoa, while Colombia is a leading global producer of coffee, sugar cane, avocados, and agave fibers.

For many countries in the Americas, agriculture continues to be a critical piece of their national economies. As shown in figure 2, agriculture’s share of gross domestic product (GDP) is above five percent in most countries and is above ten percent in a handful of countries in Central America, the Caribbean, and South America. Over the 2023–2024 period, agriculture’s share of Brazil’s GDP was 6.24 percent while its agricultural exports represented nearly half (49 percent, at $164 billion) of Brazil’s total exports by value. Both figures demonstrate the spectacular growth in Brazil’s intensive farming, especially of soybeans (see also box 2).

Box 2. Case study: Brazil
Brazil might be the single most interesting agrifood production story in the entire hemisphere, and perhaps the most important as well. Brazil today is one of the world’s great breadbaskets, being among the largest producers and exporters of primary crops and many specialized ones as well. Yet Brazil was a net food importer for much of its history, becoming a net exporter only over the past several decades. Starting in the 1960s, an agrifood production revolution occurred in Brazil, based on both extensification (expansion of agricultural land) and, just as critically if not even more so, an intensive modernization program based around research, capital investment, and technological development. Brazil’s modernization program included cutting-edge research conducted by universities and its now world-famous agricultural research agency, Embrapa, into tropical soybean and corn cultivation. These efforts led to new seed varieties and technologies that in turn enabled primary crop production to occur at scale in vast regions of Brazil including the Cerrado. Over roughly the same period, the liberalization of agricultural trade allowed Brazil to grow into a global agricultural exporter. On the demand side of the food security equation, a combination of rising wealth plus innovative social safety programs, including the Bolsa Familia and Fome Zero (zero hunger) programs, helped to reduce hunger among the poor in Brazil. Yet Brazil’s story has not been without its downsides, which in the past have included high deforestation rates in the Cerrado and Amazon regions, and related ecological damage.

Demand side: calories and nutrition

The FAO’s definition of food security, which is broadly accepted among experts, emphasizes that food security is as much about access and affordability, especially by vulnerable populations, as it is about the aggregate production of food. If people cannot access a nutritious diet at affordable and stable prices, they will not be food secure.

In recent decades, the Western Hemisphere has gradually decreased its level of food insecurity. In comparative terms, it has done well. Between 1990 and 2015, for example, Latin America and the Caribbean (LAC) was the only region in the world to reduce hunger by half.

As shown in table 2, the FAO’s latest data indicates that the Western Hemisphere continues to be relatively food secure. Over 2022–2024, the two major subregions in the Americas, North America on the one hand and LAC on the other, performed better than the world average. This is reflected in several key metrics related to the reduction of caloric intake of food, in particular undernourishment (calorie deprivation over time), severe food insecurity (a measurement of households going without food for periods of time), and the prevalence of wasting in small children (an indicator of undernourishment). On metrics related to poor diets such as overweight and obesity (both of which are indicators of too many calories rather than too few), the Americas performed less well.

These outcomes are consistent with levels of wealth. Although an oversimplification, as national wealth increases, per capita consumption of food rises. Most countries in the Americas are classified by the World Bank as either high- or upper middle-income countries. (Note, however, that lower-income populations, including those within both lower- and higher income economies, are at increasing risk of obesity, in part due to easy availability of inexpensive processed foods with low nutritional value.)

There are several countries in the Americas that underperform. According to the FAO, over half (54.2 percent) of Haitians are undernourished, while just 10.7 percent of adults are obese (compared with over 40 percent of US citizens); Haiti is the most fragile state in the Americas. Although undernourishment is much lower across the hemisphere now than in previous decades, it nonetheless remains high in several countries including Bolivia (21.8 percent), Honduras (14.8 percent), Ecuador (12.1 percent), and Guatemala (11.8 percent).

There is a gendered dimension to deprivation, with women being more likely to be food insecure than men. This difference worsened during the COVID-19 pandemic, increasing to a 3.3 percent gap between the genders in Latin America in 2021, before reducing again by 2024. In North America, the gap has worsened every year since 2020, from 0.1 percent in 2020 to 0.5 percent in 2024.

Fully stocked shelves of packaged rice and beans for sale in a grocery store in Utiva, Costa Rica. (Unsplash/Bernd Dittrich)

Drivers of change in the Americas and beyond

Strategic foresight asserts that the future likely will not conform to our expectations. It is risky to assume that the future will consist of a simple linear extrapolation of one or two current trends. Hence, the discipline focuses as much on the intersections of the drivers that together will drive multiple possible futures. Food security in the Americas is no different, as there are several significant intersecting drivers of change that will
shape the hemisphere’s future.

Changing ecology

Ecological risks are among the greatest threats to food security in the Americas. A rapidly changing climate creates the primary set of risks, from rising heat and worsening drought and flooding. Other ecological risks exist as well in specific subregions, for example deforestation, biodiversity loss, and soil erosion and degradation.

Of these changing ecological conditions, perhaps the worst for agricultural production is the combination of drought and heat, or “dry-hot” conditions. Trend data show that such conditions are becoming more frequent and intense. An Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) study of drought patterns, released in July 2025, found that the share of land globally exposed to drought has doubled since 1900.

Dry-hot conditions threaten to become more frequent across the Americas. In North America, for example, scientists estimate that the now decades-long megadrought that has impacted northern Mexico and the southwestern United States might be the worst in 1,200 years. In South America, the frequency of dry, hot, and flammable weather has increased across much of the continent since the early 1970s. Such changes are highly consequential for agriculture. A 2021 study, for instance, showed that increases in Brazil’s dry-hot conditions, combined with the impacts of deforestation on temperature and rainfall, have already pushed 28 percent of the country’s agricultural land beyond its optimum productive range, with further projections of 51 percent by 2030 and 74 percent by 2060.

One of the more discouraging climate-driven outcomes is the possibility, even probability, of future multiple breadbasket failures (i.e., “simultaneous harvest failures across major crop-producing regions” around the world). Climate change likely will make such failures more common in the future. A 2021 study projected that the probability of multiple harvest failures globally was “as much as 4.5 times higher by 2030 and up to 25 times higher by 2050.”21 Another, focusing on the impacts that oscillations such as the El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO) and North Atlantic Oscillation (NAO) might have under future warming, concluded that shifting ENSO and NAO patterns might “expose an additional 5.1–12% of global croplands” to such oscillations, with strong ENSO/NAO negative phases “likely to cause simultaneous yield losses across multiple key food-producing regions.”

The Americas, home to several of the world’s major producers of staple crops including soybeans, corn, and wheat, faces the possibility of multiple breadbasket failures. It is entirely possible that in the years to come, severe dry-hot conditions could strike simultaneously in the United States, Mexico, Brazil, and Argentina. The consequences for agricultural production and global food security would be enormous.

A changing climate also will negatively impact most—perhaps all—of the other crops grown across the Americas. Coffee and banana production, to name just two examples, likely will be severely affected by increased heat and altered precipitation patterns. A recent scientific study conducted by the University of Exeter forecasts that 60 percent of the regions currently producing bananas—including regions in Central America—will be unable to do so before the end of this century, owing principally to increased temperature. The world will not have to wait nearly that long to see such effects because climate-driven impacts are already occurring. In 2024, the FAO reported a 38.8 percent annual increase in global coffee prices “primarily driven by supply-side disruptions, stemming from adverse weather conditions” including drought, heat, and flooding in major coffee-producing countries including Brazil, Vietnam, and Indonesia.

Because farmers are on the receiving end of changing ecological conditions, it is critical to understand how they are impacted by such change and how they process those changes.

Doing so will assist in defining the policy and investment options with the greatest likelihood of mass adoption on farms and in farming communities. Farmers will be impacted differently depending on where in the hemisphere they farm, their farm sizes and resources (financial and otherwise), whether they are subsistence farmers or integrated into national, regional, and global markets, and the types of crops they grow. Taken together, farmers do not experience changing ecological conditions in the same way at the same time. Smallholder farmers in poorer settings, for example, will be at greatest risk from climate-driven impacts given the small size of their landholdings and a lack of access to insurance and other sources of resilience. It follows that farmers’ perceptions of ecological impacts on their farming operations will not follow a straight line. Farmers will parse the impacts of environmental hazards such as drought, heat, or flooding differently.

In sum, ecological change dramatically increases the risk of declining crop yields while shifting the locations where crops can be grown. Potentially, ecological change with impacts at scale could generate significant shortfalls in global food supply, causing market panics, high prices, hoarding, and a breakdown of trade. Food insecurity would spike.

A tractor trailer fills seed boxes in a Michigan field. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Geopolitical and geoeconomic turbulence

A second set of risks stems from rising geopolitical and geoeconomic competition and uncertainty. An open, rules-based trading system has been essential to improving hemispheric and global food security. Trade in that system has precipitated more economic integration of the region—more bilateral trade and investment agreements, greater investment flows, and exchange of technical know-how—which benefits food security via higher economic growth, greater employment opportunities and rising incomes, poverty reduction, and general economic dynamism. It also has allowed governments to see that a set of policies, including more focus on innovation and competitiveness and less on trade distortions and protectionism, is the best path forward.

Yet this trajectory is now subject to geopolitical risk. Over the past two decades, the global food trading system has been disrupted by several significant events including wars and related phenomena (e.g., civil strife, terrorism). Such events generate (largely) unanticipated shocks to agricultural inputs, supply chains, and agrifood exports, resulting in higher production prices and, therefore, consumer prices. The most well-known and significant of these events is the full-scale war in Ukraine, which upon its onset in 2022 immediately resulted in higher global prices for key commodities including natural gas and nitrogen fertilizers (because Russia is the world’s third ranking natural gas exporter and natural gas is a critical input for nitrogen fertilizers); potash fertilizers (primarily from Russia and Belarus) and wheat (before the war, Ukraine was the world’s seventh-largest wheat exporter).

Although global input markets, for example for fertilizers, are broadly resilient, at the same time they also clearly are affected by geopolitical turbulence arising from trade policies, sanctions, shocks such as wars, and other phenomena. While the war in Ukraine is an important case, it hardly exhausts the list of current examples. In July 2025, the World Bank said that sanctions and restrictive trade policies “are playing an increasingly significant role in reshaping global fertilizer markets,” citing China’s discretionary export restrictions on nitrogen and phosphate fertilizers to protect its domestic agriculture, and the European Union’s (EU) June 2025 tariffs against Belarusian and Russian fertilizers to reduce EU dependence on these countries.

An even more difficult problem is the risk that the hemispheric and global agrifood trading system is returning to a protectionist order, which risks the benefits that have accrued since the emergence of a rules-based trading model in the 1990s for agriculture established under the World Trade Organization (WTO) 1994 Agreement on Agriculture. Under that model, countries tended to place high tariffs only on a few politically sensitive crops (such as sugar or cotton). Yet today’s rising protectionism is much broader, affecting a larger number of crops, including staple crops, and implemented by an ever-longer list of countries. The result is likely to undermine food security by increasing food prices—with impacts falling most harshly on poor households—and reducing profitability by raising both producers’ and exporters’ costs, lowering investment and decreasing productivity.

Over the past several decades, the largest agricultural producers in the Americas, including the United States and Brazil, have become the world’s largest agrifood exporting nations. Southern Cone states have pushed agricultural exports as key pieces of their export-led growth strategies, especially to China given its rapidly growing demand for commodities. With such a high dependence on global agricultural exports, the biggest agricultural producers in the Western Hemisphere ought to be the most heavily invested in a global agrifood free-trading regime. Tariff and nontariff barrier uncertainty negatively impacts agrifood producers, processors, distributors, and consumers.

These disruptions have other distorting effects. Trade patterns within the Americas, and between the Americas and the rest of the world, are shifting because of trade tensions. China’s behavior in international agricultural markets is a significant example, with direct relevance to the Western Hemisphere. A decade ago, China imported more agricultural goods from the United States than from Brazil; today, China imports almost twice as much from Brazil as from the United States, including in soybeans and corn. China’s shift toward non-US sources (including but not limited to Brazil) began even before the 2018 trade dispute with the United States. In addition to supply diversification, China also has dramatically increased its stockpiling of food (grains, soybeans, and frozen meat), which it defines as a strategic good.

Further, China’s decoupling from the US agricultural market has had major consequences for trade patterns in that it has helped Brazil become the world’s largest exporter of soybeans. Since the 2018 Sino-American trade dispute, Brazil’s global soybean exports have increased by 40 percent, while those from the US have remained flat.

Geopolitical and geoeconomic turbulence has distorting effects on global trade in food. The biggest concern for global food security is the impact on food prices, both in terms of inflation but also price variability. Such turbulence also can generate trade disputes and, therefore, contribute to fractured relations among states. After the United States levied tariffs in August 2025 of up to 50 percent against certain Brazilian agricultural goods including coffee, beef, and sugar, Brazil immediately asked the WTO for consultation, arguing that the tariffs violate international trade rules. A likely immediate effect of the tariffs is to hasten Brazil’s interest in developing alternative markets for its agricultural products, including with China. A second and (often) underappreciated concern is that unstable trade rules and fluctuating market access make it more difficult for farmers to plan and make production and investment decisions, increasing their economic uncertainty.

Geopolitical tensions and rising trade protectionism are also likely to lead to slower economic growth. This is important because in the Americas, as everywhere, economic growth coupled with rising incomes are keys to increased food security. If slower economic growth combines with higher food prices owing to increasing trade friction, then there is a greater risk of more food insecurity in the future. International food trade is being shaped increasingly by geopolitical considerations rather than market signals, thereby realigning trade patterns in unpredictable ways.

Institutional uncertainty

Multilateral institutions are a hallmark of the current international order. Most of the world’s biggest and most important institutions that exist today were created after 1945. Although not without criticism, much of it deserved, these institutions have been central to building a global order which has delivered unprecedented—if also uneven—prosperity. When it comes to trade, the data say as much: Today’s global trade is 45 times by volume and 382 times by value greater than it was in 1950. Moreover, since the mid-1990s, global trade growth has accelerated, averaging 4 percent growth by volume annually and 5 percent by value.

However, the multilateral institutions that have facilitated this growth in trade now are under enormous pressure from all sides. One reason is that the world’s largest trading powers as well as many smaller ones have been willing to bend or even break established norms and international trade law. China, for example, has taken advantage of its status as a developing country under the WTO to engage in unfair practices, including massive subsidies, heavy use of state-owned enterprises, forced technology transfer, and protection of its domestic market (for example, limiting foreign companies’ and investors’ access to its technology and financial markets).36 Further, the United States is preventing the WTO’s Appellate Body from functioning as designed, preventing the organization from enforcing its own rules.

Such developments are important because they create uncertainty surrounding trading rules and thereby increase friction among countries when it comes to trade. Even worse, these developments create space wherein the breaking of rules by some countries prompts others to believe they can as well. Both India and Indonesia, for example, recently have taken advantage of the lack of a functioning Appellate Body to
implement policies that likely are in violation; Indonesia instituted a ban on nickel exports (to induce nickel processors to relocate to Indonesia) while India heavily subsidized steel and pharmaceuticals. By some estimates, two-thirds of initial WTO rulings made about trade disputes have been appealed, but the Appellate Body cannot convene itself.

The decline of multilateral institutions is significant because the Americas benefit more than other regions from an open global trading system in agricultural goods, per table 1 above. Agriculture always has been a controversial topic in trade negotiations, extending back to the origins of the Global Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT) in the 1940s. Despite this fact, functional multilateral institutions are valuable because
they create a stable, rules-based global marketplace that in turn enables trade in food at scale.

In sum, a breakdown of multilateral institutions and rising protectionism portend headwinds for agriculture in the years to come, increasing risks and possibly disincentivizing investments by farmers. Such developments erode the open agrifood trading system that globalization made possible. The Americas have utilized open trade to expand agriculture production and exports and, therefore, is most at risk from the unraveling of that system

Price inflation and variability

The price of food is a core metric for food security: For the world’s consumers, the most desirable food prices are both low and stable over time. Food insecurity is made worse when the opposite applies: rapid price inflation combined with high price variability. Unfortunately, as shown in figure 3, the latter situation has characterized global food prices for much of the past quarter century.

Since the 2000s, shocks have occurred with such frequency that prices settle on a new higher baseline rather than returning to previous levels. The FAO noted this trend as early as 2009: Prior to the 2006–2008 global food-price shock, “real prices [in food had] shown a steady long-run downward trend punctuated by typically short-lived price spikes.” But by the mid-2000s, the FAO observed, this trend no longer held. As of 2008, its own food-price index “still averaged 24 percent above 2007 and 57 percent above 2006.” Indeed, as shown in figure 3, since the mid-2000s, global food prices have risen to a new and higher level after each exogenous shock. The most recent global shocks—the COVID-19 pandemic followed by the full-scale invasion of Ukraine—has had the greatest impact on sustained high food prices.

The upward trend in the price of food has important implications for food security around the world. Food is less affordable; households have more difficulty consuming a healthy diet, and they are forced to switch to less nutritious foods and/or reduce their total consumption of food. This cost-of-living crisis erodes food security gains and threatens to make societies less stable.

Food-price inflation and volatility is as problematic in the Americas as elsewhere in the world, increasing food insecurity and becoming a key social and political issue. In Latin America, rising food prices have been a major driver of inflation across the region. In some cases, such as Argentina, food prices have contributed to extreme inflation rates. In North America, food prices also continue to rise and are a major cause of the cost-of-living crisis experienced by many households.

Investment: Innovation, technology, and infrastructure

Public- and private-sector investments in on- and off-farm innovation and productivity have been critical enablers of modern agrifood systems. A question to be answered in the years to come is whether such investments will increase agricultural productivity and sustainability enough to match or exceed demand-side pressures for more food (from population and income growth), even as baseline conditions from other drivers—ecological, institutional, geopolitical—become more challenging.

Historically, on- and off-farm innovation and productivity increases, which stem from process and technological developments plus infrastructural improvements, have been fundamental to increasing the supply of food to meet rising demand. Since the 1990s, global efficiency gains have been the largest contributors to global growth in agricultural output. Efficiency gains have far outstripped the other contributors, including the use of more inputs per hectare of land, greater extension of irrigation to cropland, and expansion of new agricultural land (e.g., expansion of agriculture into previously forested lands).

In agriculture, efficiency is gauged using total factor productivity (TFP), a metric of inputs relative to outputs. If total on-farm output (e.g., volume of crops produced) is growing faster than inputs (defined as labor, capital, and material resources), then TFP is increasing.

That is the good news. The bad news is that global TFP growth is now slowing. After steadily increasing from a 0.55 percent annual growth rate during the 1970s to a peak of 1.97 percent annual growth rate in the 2000s, TFP has since fallen back to 1.1 percent annually (figure 4). Within the Americas, the picture is even more dire. Between 2011 and 2020, TFP increased by only 0.9 percent annually in Latin America and the Caribbean. In North America, typically at the global forefront in productivity and efficiency gains, TFP grew over the same period by just 0.2 percent annually. The Americas significantly lagged the global average (figure 5).

The decline in TFP over the past fifteen years is a worrisome development, as it threatens to undermine progress toward an elusive goal, which is to produce enough food to meet growing global demand while simultaneously retaining on-farm profitability and reducing environmental impact. Analysts at the US Department of Agriculture recently made this argument. “At the global level,” they wrote, “improvements in agricultural productivity have not been rapid or universal enough to make a significant dent in the effect of agriculture on the environment.” If TFP were to continue to slow down in the future, the impact “could [negatively] affect food prices, [lead to] the expansion of agriculture into more natural lands, and [threaten] global food security.”

Nor is underinvestment in innovation the only form of investment risk. Despite the hemisphere’s reliance on trade in agriculture and food, infrastructure across much of the Americas remains underdeveloped. The so-called infrastructure gap in the Americas refers to how the hemisphere’s ports, railways, bridges and roads, telecommunications, and other forms of infrastructure are insufficiently robust in kind, quality, and/or maintenance. In 2021, for example, the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB) estimated that countries in Latin America and the Caribbean alone would need to invest $2.2 trillion in “water and sanitation, energy, transportation, and telecommunications infrastructure” to meet the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals. The IDB’s estimate included not just funds for new infrastructural investment but for maintenance and replacement as well (at some 41 percent of the total).

North America is not exempt from this problem, as both Canada and the United States face large infrastructure deficits. As is well-known, for decades the United States has largely underinvested in infrastructure. Despite passage of the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, which directed the federal government to spend some $1.2 trillion over five years on infrastructure, investment levels in the United States will remain insufficient absent systematic changes in how funds are raised by local, state, and federal governments.

Likewise, in Canada, the infrastructure deficit, which is estimated at $196 billion, is of particular importance to that country’s globally important agricultural exports, which include foodstuffs such as grains (wheat, principally) and key agricultural inputs such as fertilizers, largely produced in the country’s vast interior. Getting bulky grains and inputs to external markets more cheaply and efficiently will require Canada to upgrade its transport infrastructure, including railway lines, bridges, and ports, which are key in all circumstances but especially so during periods when unexpected disruptive factors, such as recent port labor strikes or extreme weather events, create choke points that necessitate rerouting. The recent announcements by the government of Canada to expand the Port of Montreal is a step in the right direction. However, significantly greater ambition will be required to push Canada’s infrastructure investments to levels comparable to other leading OECD countries.

Policymakers, the private sector, farmers, investors, and the scientific and technological communities will need to find solutions to these challenges. Doing so will require some combination of enhanced public and private investment in on- and off-farm infrastructure, R&D, improved piloting and scaling of new technologies, and implementation of policies to encourage farmers to become more innovative, productive, and efficient.

A Colombian grocery store displays a variety of vegetables for sale. (Unsplash/nrd)

Demographic shifts

Agricultural employment as a share of global GDP has been trending downward for decades, owing to the ongoing mechanization of farmwork, increasing urbanization and industrialization, and other factors. According to the World Bank, in 1991, 43 percent of the world’s population was employed in agriculture. By 2023, that figure had fallen by almost half, to 26 percent.

The Western Hemisphere has followed this trendline. In Latin America and the Caribbean, agricultural employment fell over the same 1991–2023 period from 21 percent to 13 percent and in North America from 2.8 percent to 1.6 percent. As can be expected, given differences in income levels, structure of national economies, and crop specialization, there are widespread differences in agricultural employment across the hemisphere. In 2023, several countries still had employment levels in agriculture above 20 percent: Haiti (by far the most, at 45 percent), Ecuador, Guatemala, Bolivia, Nicaragua, Peru, and Honduras. In contrast, the hemisphere’s biggest producers of staple crops—the United States, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, and Argentina—are all well below the global average of 26 percent, in most cases in low single digits.

This demographic transition underscores how agriculture is becoming more capital-intensive and productive: more food is being produced per person employed in the sector. The largest food producers also typically have the lowest share of farmers and agricultural workers employed in the national economy, as the United States, Canada, and Argentina all show (each is at less than 2 percent of their populations employed
in agriculture).

However, there is a generational downside to this demographic trend: farmers worldwide are aging in part because on-farm employment opportunities are declining. The trend appears to be worse in the wealthiest regions having the smallest share of employment in agriculture. In the EU, for example, only 11.9 percent of farmers were under forty years old in 2020.52 In the United States, only 9 percent were under thirty-five years of age in 2022.

Toward a food-secure future

The world needs a bold new way of thinking about food security, one that incorporates a comprehensive understanding of how divergent forces, including those identified in this report, are creating a dynamic and unsettled agrifood landscape that will shape the future in unpredictable ways. To avoid negative future scenarios and increase the odds of positive ones, what is needed is a shift in the prevailing debate about food security that incorporates all these driving forces. That debate should stress that these forces combine in important and not entirely predictable ways to disrupt agrifood systems.

Such an outlook recognizes, for example, that geopolitical tensions add risk to other phenomena such as climate change to make an already perilous situation more difficult.

Policymakers and other leaders across the Americas should recognize that these drivers intersect and combine, in turn reshaping the hemisphere’s agrifood outlook. The challenge is clear: They will need to develop strategies and design policies that will lead to resilient and sustainable food systems that minimize the impact of shocks—both natural and human-made—on the production, distribution, and access to food.

Ecology

As stated above in the introduction, a central challenge will be to ensure that food production can remain profitable and resilient in the face of disruptive change. Ecological changes and the environmental resources that the world relies upon for productive and healthy agriculture systems are critical pieces of this equation.

A key task concerns how best to frame this problem for policymakers, business leaders, and farmers, to relay that ecological changes threaten to undermine progress toward a food-secure future. How these stakeholders act through policies, investments, and practices to mitigate and adapt to ecological changes will go a long way to determining whether the hemisphere’s future is food secure or insecure.

Farming is inherently uncertain because of the vagaries of weather and disease, so efforts to minimize the instability caused by ecological changes, including climate change, extreme weather, disasters, and other phenomena, will help farmers to manage this complex set of risks. Integration across risks is an important way to frame the problem, not only because the problem itself is multifaceted but so too are the solutions. Synergies among healthy ecosystem services, robust agricultural production, and profitability can be found with the right application of imagination, creativity, policymaking, investment, and on-the-ground application by utilizing input and knowledge from farmers and farming communities.

Agriculture is a major driver of ecological change, including land-use patterns and carbon emissions. Yet at the same time, agriculture also holds enormous potential, under the right domestic and international conditions, to provide robust and lasting solutions. Doing so would require that policymakers, investors, farmers, scientists, and technologists and society writ large coordinate efforts toward effecting scalable change.

Synergistic approaches include a range of alternative farming techniques and practices as well as novel technologies that collectively hold great potential not only to perform at a high level of output but at the same time go some way toward repairing the natural world. These strategies, which overlap in practice, include regenerative agriculture, no-till farming, agroforestry, climate-smart agriculture, and 4R nutrient stewardship practices (referring to nutrient-management practices focusing on the right sources, right rates, right times, and right places for nutrients). Such approaches aim to improve resource efficiency, reduce waste, protect ecosystems and ecosystem services including freshwater sources, soils, and biodiversity, while retaining profitability. Through the more efficient use of resources, carbon sequestration in soils, land and forest conservation, and improved management (for example, of water and waste processes), these strategies also can mitigate the agricultural sector’s significant greenhouse gas emissions.

Although many of these approaches once were considered experimental, novel, and unproven, that is far less the case today. Regenerative farming, for example, now has more adherents (including farmers) who believe that the diverse methods falling under it deliver tangible environmental benefits without sacrificing on-farm yields—a claim that is also drawing greater financial-sector interest and investment. A global survey of farmers, conducted in 2024 by McKinsey and Company found that over three-quarters of farmers in Argentina, Brazil, Canada, and the United States were adopting no-till or reduced tillage practices. Farmers’ willingness to adopt these and other regenerative practices were “underpinned by economics,” according to McKinsey, with respondents in the Americas ranking increased yields as their primary motive for adoption, followed by lower production costs and additional revenue streams.

There is an enormous amount of land worldwide and in the Americas that could be revitalized through such approaches. Land degradation, which by extension means the degradation of the world’s soils, is a massive problem. The world is losing at least one hundred million hectares of productive land each year, with some forecasts suggesting up to 95 percent of the world’s arable land could be in some kind of degraded state
by 2050.

In the Americas, degradation is a serious problem but also a big opportunity for soil and land regeneration. Brazil alone has enormous swathes of degraded pastureland. Embrapa, Brazil’s agricultural research agency, estimated in 2024 that the country has approximately twenty-eight million hectares of degraded pastureland (classified as intermediately or severely degraded). Bringing this land back into production using regenerative methods would help alleviate forest conversion pressures in Brazil’s Cerrado and Amazon regions.

One important consideration for policymakers is that if trade in agriculture and food becomes more costly, there is a risk that the fiscal capacity to invest in policies to make agrifood systems more productive and resilient in the face of ecological change will be reduced. Hence, this report focuses on understanding how these issues are linked and addressing them through greater international cooperation to promote more sustainable and resilient agrifood systems.

Trade, geopolitics, and institutions

Rising protectionism and geopolitical competition undermine the incentives for states to cooperate. Trade tensions risk spilling over into diplomatic tension, eroding international trust. In such conditions, states will be less likely to collaborate, which can sour international relations. If the world’s biggest economies are becoming more protectionist and eschewing a rules-based trading system, a zero-sum world returns, with many states, concerned by protectionist measures placed on them from elsewhere, believing they must adopt such policies. More dialogue among states, not less, is an antidote.

An increasing number of governments around the world appear to no longer see the equation in these terms. China, for example, is seeking greater self-reliance in food through stockpiling and other measures. It also has weaponized tariffs for its own purposes, imposing large tariffs on grain imports from Australia and more recently on Canada. These are not isolated incidents but part of how China exercises its power, given its outsized impact on world markets.

As articulated in this report, global trade in food depends on the strength of multilateral institutions and international agreements. These institutions are often underappreciated contributors to global food security. Today these institutions are being eroded by rising geopolitical and diplomatic conflict and other forces. The rapid rate of their erosion is worrisome.

Despite the WTO’s flaws—of which there are many—it remains valuable because it has the reach and standing to create and enforce global trading rules. Yet the organization is failing at doing so, in large part because of its own rules (decisions are made by consensus) and even more so because the largest trading countries no longer want to abide by a rules-based system. The risk is a collapse of the entire multilateral trading system. “The reversal of global economic integration [if the multilateral trading system were to fail] would bring with it growing lawlessness, conflict, and disorder in the global economy,” one scholar writes, and with it “the international system at large.”

One aim should be to build alternative institutions within the hemisphere consisting of states having the critical mass to achieve desired outcomes. One such solution would be to mimic the Group of Seven and Group of Twenty, two examples of institutions that bring leaders from the world’s largest economies together to attempt to coordinate solutions to various global challenges. One possibility would be to start with just the largest agricultural producers in the hemisphere—an “A5” consisting of the United States, Brazil, Mexico, Canada, and Argentina—to bring agriculture ministers together for systematized dialogue about hemispheric trade. Dialogue outcomes might include regional food-security compacts that generate commitments to invest in agricultural research leading to breakthrough technologies (“agtech”), to avoid the most trade distorting policies (export bans, for example), and more.

A related idea is to construct a standing (as opposed to episodic) hemispheric food security council to bring willing governments together for discussing responses to future shocks, identifying pathways for greater scientific and technological cooperation, and buttressing the norm regarding the hemisphere’s responsibility to the rest of the world as a major food supplier. Hemispheric institutions such as the Organization of American States (OAS) and Inter-American Development Bank can be leveraged to convene this council, given their credibility in addressing hemispheric affairs, including in trade. Using the inter-American system to convene a hemispheric food security council consisting of foreign, environment, and agriculture ministers—alongside representatives from industry and producer groups—should appeal to a wide set of stakeholders.

A drone hovers above a field. (Unsplash/Job Vermeulen)

Investment in innovation, technology, and infrastructure

The constant improvement of on- and off-farm activities, including innovative use of new technologies and processes, and capital investment in the phenomena that enable them (including infrastructure), are central to ensuring that the hemisphere and the world are food secure. Innovation and investment also are critical components of agrifood systems that not only are productive but also sustainable and resilient, given
the need to prepare for climate-driven shocks in the future. Innovative technologies and processes, and the infrastructure that undergirds them, can build redundancy and efficiency into the agrifood system in anticipation of such shocks.

Regenerative agriculture and other agrifood systems focused on sustainability can be enhanced through the application of advanced technologies. Examples include:

  • Alternative energy sources can enhance on- and offfarm systems while reducing carbon footprints.
  • Geospatial remote sensing tools for precision farming can identify and help safeguard ecological assets.
  • Robotics and mobile digital technologies (including deeper integration of handheld devices into farming practices) can improve agricultural efficiencies while reducing environmental impact.
  • AI-driven analytics can integrate and utilize data streams from numerous applications.

Such technologies will become more critical in the future, as ecological changes make farming more difficult. Rising heat, for example, will create harsher working conditions for farm labor, in turn requiring machines and other technologies to alleviate workers’ outdoor exposure during periods of extreme heat.

Biotechnologies should be added to this list, given their promise to improve on-farm productivity and nutrient use efficiency while protecting ecological assets such as soils and water. Biofertilizers, for example, aim to improve soil fertility and nutrient use efficiency through application of living organisms including bacteria, fungi, and algae, with crop yields increasing by an estimated 10 percent to 40 percent. They also help
plants withstand abiotic stressors, some brought on by climate change, including drought, salinity, and extreme temperatures.

How can governments, the private sector, and other actors together ensure that the right mix and scale of investments are being made that will lead to innovative technologies and processes across the hemisphere’s agrifood systems? Additionally, how can they ensure that innovative technologies and processes are transformative at all scales, including for the hemisphere’s millions of smallholder farmers in addition to its largest producers? Some technologies and processes are more suitable for large-scale applications because of high cost or other considerations, for example. Improving access to the benefits of such technologies will require improved pathways for dissemination of knowledge, practical know-how, access to capital, and other services (e.g., training).

Every year, researchers at Virginia Tech produce the Global Agricultural Productivity Report, which tracks and analyzes TFP trends. The 2025 version asserts that reversing the decline in TFP growth—including low growth in the Americas—will require five “policy, investment and research priorities,” which are:

  • Invest more in strengthening and expanding multistakeholder dialogues, agriculture extension services, and incentive structures for technology transfer to smallholder farmers.
  • Expand access to markets for all participants in the agrifood value chain, including smallholder farmers.
  • Strengthen trade as it “enhances competitive prices” which incentivizes investment in improved inputs and technologies” while facilitating “the exchange of knowledge, innovations, and best practices across borders, driving productivity gains.”
  • Reduce food loss and waste.
  • Invest in public-private partnerships, joint ventures, knowledge sharing agreements and platforms, and interdisciplinary research.

These types of innovative practices have real impact on agrifood systems at every level, down to the farm itself. Innovation delivers new seeds and crop varieties, creates more efficient production methods, solves practical problems faced by farmers (pests and disease), and creates new markets for goods and services provided by farmers (such as using sugarcane to produce ethanol to reduce carbon emissions of transport
fuels).

Farmers are both users and creators of innovative technologies and processes, so their knowledge and experience should be included in robust feedback loops. Moreover, farmers must be able to adopt and utilize innovative technologies and processes to realize their full positive contributions. This is not an automatic process, as on-farm adoption is not the same thing as laboratory invention. When making investment decisions, farmers are businesspersons, concerned about the upfront costs and return on investment (ROI). Global surveys of farmers indicate they are hesitant to adopt new technologies and processes if the technologies and processes are unfamiliar or they face high initial investment costs or uncertain ROI.

Publicly funded agricultural extension programs, which connect researchers at universities and other institutions to farmers—in the process, enabling mutual learning and successful technology transfer—are critical to improving agtech adoption. Maintaining and strengthening extension services (including public funding) should be central to any country’s aspiration to build world-class agrifood systems based on widespread technology and process adoption by farmers.

Improving infrastructure to strengthen agrifood supply chains is also critical, especially as higher temperatures, changing precipitation patterns, more frequent and powerful disasters, and other problems will put more infrastructure—e.g., ports, bridges, roads, railroads, canals— at risk. Ports are especially at risk, with most food trade moving by cargo ships. The Panama Canal, which in recent years has had low water levels due to Central American drought, is a good example. (Chinese ownership of port facilities also has proven controversial in the United States.) Beyond adaptation measures designed to improve individual pieces of infrastructure, there is much need for strategies that will frame the challenge in terms of societal and even transboundary (international) resilience. Canada, for example, in 2023 released a whole-of-society National Adaptation Strategy that emphasizes the need to make physical infrastructure (and communities) more resilient to climate-driven impacts.

Three locomotives haul goods over the Ascotán Pass to the Bolivian border. (Wikimedia/Kabelleger)

Farmers for the future

Ensuring a food-secure future in the Americas must place human beings at its center. This formula long has been the focus on the demand side of the food-security equation: The goal always is to ensure that all humans always have access to affordable and nutritious food.

Yet the same logic also holds on the supply side of the equation. To avoid the demographic decline of farming amid the chronic aging of the world’s farmers, it is imperative that farming be made financially, socially, and culturally attractive to younger generations. Unfortunately, such conditions are not prevalent in many countries (perhaps most) around the world. The reasons for this are many. To young people, particularly those without a family heritage in agriculture, farming can be perceived as backward, unprofitable, difficult, alien, or uncool—or all the above.

There is no single set of recognized solutions to assist in turning the demographic trendlines around. However, evidence from around the world suggests that a combination of interventions, some obvious and others not so much, might suffice. The obvious ones are to make it easier to gain access to farming in the first place by reducing barriers to entry (access to affordable financing or access to farmland through ownership or long-term contract), and closing knowledge and skills gaps through on-farm training programs, scholarships, and apprenticeships. There are less obvious interventions, too. One such intervention is to incentivize nontraditional candidates to enter farming, for example, young women, in addition to traditional candidates (typically men). Another is to stress the increasingly important role played by digital technologies, robotics, big data and remote sensing, artificial intelligence, and other technical applications that appeal to tech-savvy and ambitious young people.

Although none of these solutions will guarantee a demographic rebound in farming, there are examples of where the curve has been bent toward youth. Brazil’s farmers are getting younger rather than older. They appear to be attracted by the prospect of getting rich in Brazil’s booming, forward-facing, and tech-savvy industry.

A combine harvests corn in a field in Southern Michigan. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Conclusion

The issues outlined in this report should be seen as a starting point for discussion. The challenges and the opportunities facing agrifood systems in the Americas in the coming decades will be profound. A central question is whether the hemisphere’s key actors—governments, farmers, the private sector, researchers, foundations, civil society groups, and the public—will be willing to invest in the transformative processes and approaches that will reduce risk while increasing prosperity, sustainability, and resilience.

This report has put great emphasis upon generating productive dialogues among key stakeholders. Promoting the diffusion of critical innovations for food security will be an important piece of this process. It is imperative that governments and multilateral institutions in the hemisphere find financing and pool technological know-how to support programs tailored to meet the needs of the region.

Beyond that, however, it is critical that nongovernmental stakeholders, including investors, the private sector, researchers, scientists, analysts, farmers, and farming communities, act in concert with one another. They must themselves build the transnational dialogues to assist in envisioning, creating, and strengthening the tools that will be needed to ensure a food-secure future.

Acknowledgments

This report was produced by the Atlantic Council with support from The Mosaic Company as part of the Food security: Strategic alignment in the Americas project.

About the authors

Peter Engelke is a senior fellow with the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security as well as a senior fellow with its Global Energy Center. His diverse work portfolio spans strategic foresight; geopolitics, diplomacy, and international relations; climate change and Earth systems; food, water, and energy security; emerging and disruptive technologies and tech-based innovation ecosystems; and demographics and urbanization, among other subjects, and he is the creator of the Council’s most widely read long-form publication series, Global Foresight. Engelke’s previous affiliations have included the Geneva Centre for Security Policy, the Robert Bosch Foundation, the World Economic Forum, and the Stimson Center.

Matias Margulis is associate professor of the School of Public Policy and Global Affairs and a faculty member of Land and Food Systems at the University of British Columbia. His research and teaching interests are in global governance, development, human rights, international law, and food policy. In addition to his academic research, Margulis has extensive professional experience in the field of international policymaking and is a former Canadian representative to the World Trade Organization, Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, and the UN Food and Agriculture Organization.

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El futuro de la alimentación en las Américas https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/el-futuro-de-la-alimentacion-en-las-americas/ Tue, 11 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=885594 Un informe del Centro Scowcroft para la Estrategia y la Seguridad evalúa los mayores desafíos y oportunidades que enfrenta la seguridad alimentaria del hemisferio occidental en un panorama estratégico cambiante.

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Introducción

La seguridad alimentaria está en el núcleo de la seguridad nacional, regional y global. Cuando las sociedades tienen garantizado el acceso a los alimentos, poseen una probabilidad mucho mayor de mantener la estabilidad social y política; cuando carecen de ella, sucede lo contrario. Afortunadamente, el hemisferio occidental—las Américas—es una región con seguridad alimentaria. Aunque el acceso a los alimentos sigue siendo un desafío constante, la abundancia alimentaria caracteriza en general a las Américas, gracias a una base favorable de recursos naturales, condiciones geopolíticas benignas y una amplia cooperación pública y privada orientada a mejorar los métodos de producción y fomentar la innovación. 

Sin embargo, el futuro podría no parecerse al pasado. Varios factores clave de cambio podrían alterar la trayectoria de la seguridad alimentaria hemisférica, amenazando la estabilidad y productividad de los actuales sistemas agroalimentarios o, por el contrario, ofreciendo esperanza de que estos se vuelvan aún más sólidos y resilientes. Estos factores incluyen el deterioro de ecosistemas sanos y estables, la rápida transformación de la geopolítica, la erosión de las instituciones multilaterales, la creciente inflación y volatilidad de los precios de los alimentos, la promesa de la innovación y las tecnologías emergentes, y los cambios generacionales en la agricultura y la producción agropecuaria. 

Aunque estas fuerzas se cruzan, muchos líderes las perciben como desafíos aislados. Su interacción multiplica el dinamismo del sistema, lo que exigirá que los responsables de políticas públicas, líderes empresariales, inversionistas y agricultores encuentren soluciones innovadoras frente a un panorama agroalimentario que cambia rápidamente y cuyo futuro no es del todo predecible. 

Maíz duro, semillas, frijoles, pimientos y otros productos secos se exhiben en un estante de madera montado en la pared en el pueblo indígena de Zinacantán, México. (Unsplash/Alan De La Cruz)

Alimentación, sociedad y política 

Ningún otro bien tiene un impacto tan profundo en la sociedad y la política como los alimentos, porque las personas necesitan comer todos los días. A menudo, basta con un solo gran aumento en los precios de los alimentos para alterar las dinámicas sociales y políticas dentro de un país o incluso de toda una región. Aunque los precios altos de los alimentos afectan de manera desproporcionada a los países vulnerables, pobres y frágiles, también pueden tener un gran impacto en naciones que, en principio, son ricas y estables

La definición estándar de seguridad alimentaria, adoptada en 1996 por la Organización de las Naciones Unidas para la Alimentación y la Agricultura (FAO) y solo ligeramente revisada desde entonces, establece que: 

La seguridad alimentaria existe cuando todas las personas, en todo momento, tienen acceso físico, social y económico a alimentos suficientes, inocuos y nutritivos que satisfacen sus necesidades dietéticas y preferencias alimentarias para llevar una vida activa y sana. 

Sin embargo, faltan algunos elementos importantes en esta formulación de la seguridad alimentaria. Uno de ellos es la estabilidad ecológica. La seguridad alimentaria depende de la sostenibilidad de los sistemas naturales de la Tierra que son esenciales para la producción de alimentos. Un segundo elemento es la estabilidad del sistema internacional, específicamente la estabilidad de un orden comercial basado en normas que garantice que los alimentos puedan desplazarse fácilmente desde los países con excedentes hacia aquellos con déficits alimentarios. 

Estas condiciones no deben darse por sentadas. Mirando hacia el futuro, es probable que el mundo se vuelva más dinámico y menos estable, con aspectos tanto positivos como negativos. Para prosperar, los sistemas agroalimentarios mundiales deberán volverse más resilientes y adaptables. 

Estantes completamente abastecidos de arroz y frijoles empacados a la venta en un supermercado en Utiva, Costa Rica. (Unsplash/Bernd Dittrich)

Seguridad alimentaria en las Américas 

El hemisferio occidental desempeña un papel indispensable en la seguridad alimentaria global. 

Lado de la oferta: Producción agrícola en las Américas 

Los cinco países con mayor producción primaria de cultivos (por tonelaje) en el mundo se encuentran todos en las Américas: Brasil, Estados Unidos, Argentina, México y Canadá. El hemisferio también cuenta con los principales exportadores de los cuatro cultivos básicos: soya, maíz, trigo y arroz. Además, las Américas producen una amplia variedad de cultivos especializados, entre ellos café, aguacates, limones, limas, naranjas, arándanos, cranberries, quinua, almendras y muchos más. 

La agricultura continúa siendo un componente esencial de las economías nacionales en las Américas. La participación de la agricultura en el PIB supera el 5% en la mayoría de los países y llega a más del 10% en algunos de ellos. 

Lado de la demanda: Calorías y nutrición 

La definición de seguridad alimentaria de la FAO subraya que, si las personas no pueden acceder a una dieta nutritiva a precios estables y asequibles, no se puede hablar de seguridad alimentaria. 

En las últimas décadas, el hemisferio occidental ha reducido gradualmente su nivel de inseguridad alimentaria. En términos comparativos, ha tenido un buen desempeño. Entre 1990 y 2015, América Latina y el Caribe fue la única región del mundo que logró reducir el hambre a la mitad. Actualmente, el hemisferio presenta mejores resultados que el promedio mundial en cuanto a subalimentación, inseguridad alimentaria severa y prevalencia de emaciación infantil (niños pequeños con bajo peso). 
(Aunque varios países tienen un rendimiento inferior, como Haití, Bolivia, Honduras, Ecuador y Guatemala.) 

En los indicadores relacionados con dietas poco saludables, como el sobrepeso y la obesidad, las Américas muestran un desempeño menos favorable. 

Finalmente, las mujeres en las Américas son ligeramente más propensas que los hombres a sufrir inseguridad alimentaria. 

Un tráiler llena cajas de semillas en un campo de Míchigan. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Factores de cambio en las Américas y más allá

La seguridad alimentaria en las Américas enfrenta varios factores de cambio significativos que se cruzan e interactúan entre sí. 

Cambio ecológico 

Los riesgos ecológicos se encuentran entre las mayores amenazas para la seguridad alimentaria. Los principales riesgos incluyen el cambio climático, la deforestación, la pérdida de biodiversidad y la erosión y degradación del suelo. Quizás la amenaza más grave para la producción agrícola sea la combinación de sequía y calor extremo, condiciones “secas-calientes” que se volverán más frecuentes tanto en el mundo como en las Américas. 

Una posibilidad desalentadora para el futuro es la aparición de fallas simultáneas en múltiples regiones productoras de granos básicos (“fallas en las canastas de pan” del mundo). Las Américas, hogar de varios de los principales productores mundiales de cultivos básicos, enfrentan esta posibilidad. El cambio climático también afectará negativamente a la mayoría de los cultivos especializados, incluidos el café y los plátanos

Los agricultores se verán afectados de manera diferente dependiendo de dónde trabajen dentro del hemisferio, el tamaño y los recursos de sus fincas (financieros y de otro tipo), si son agricultores de subsistencia o están integrados en los mercados nacionales, regionales y globales, y los tipos de cultivos que producen. Los pequeños agricultores en contextos más pobres estarán en mayor riesgo debido al tamaño reducido de sus parcelas y a la falta de acceso a seguros y otros recursos. 

Potencialmente, los cambios ecológicos con impactos a gran escala podrían generar importantes déficits en el suministro mundial de alimentos, provocando pánicos en los mercados, precios altos, acaparamiento y una ruptura del comercio internacional. La inseguridad alimentaria se dispararía. 

Turbulencia geopolítica y geoeconómica 

Un segundo conjunto de riesgos proviene de la incertidumbre geopolítica y geoeconómica creciente. Un sistema comercial abierto y basado en normas ha sido esencial para mejorar la seguridad alimentaria, al fomentar una mayor integración económica que, a su vez, contribuye a la seguridad alimentaria mediante mayor crecimiento económico, más empleo, aumento de ingresos, reducción de la pobreza y dinamismo económico. 

Sin embargo, el sistema mundial de comercio de alimentos ha sido perturbado por varios acontecimientos geopolíticos importantes, incluyendo guerras (como la de Ucrania), políticas comerciales y sanciones que generan choques imprevistos en los insumos agrícolas, las cadenas de suministro y las exportaciones agroalimentarias, lo que resulta en mayores costos de producción y precios de los alimentos. 

El sistema agroalimentario mundial podría estar regresando a un orden proteccionista previo a los años 1990, cuando los países solían aplicar aranceles elevados solo a unos pocos cultivos políticamente sensibles (como el azúcar o el algodón). Hoy, el proteccionismo emergente es mucho más amplio, afecta a un número mayor de cultivos y lo implementa una lista cada vez más larga de países. 

Los patrones comerciales también están cambiando debido a la geopolítica. El comportamiento de China es un ejemplo significativo. Hace una década, China importaba más productos agrícolas de Estados Unidos que de Brasil; hoy, importa casi el doble de Brasil que de EE. UU. La desvinculación de China del mercado agrícola estadounidense ha ayudado a que Brasil se convierta en el mayor exportador mundial de soya. 

Además, después de que Estados Unidos impusiera aranceles en agosto de 2025 a ciertos productos agrícolas brasileños, Brasil probablemente intensificará su interés en desarrollar mercados de exportación alternativos, incluidos los acuerdos con China. 

Incertidumbre institucional 

Las instituciones multilaterales han contribuido a generar una prosperidad sin precedentes—aunque desigual—al fomentar el comercio global y hemisférico. Sin embargo, hoy estas instituciones están bajo una enorme presión. Las principales potencias comerciales del mundo, junto con muchas naciones más pequeñas, han estado dispuestas a romper normas establecidas y leyes internacionales de comercio, creando una gran incertidumbre en torno a las reglas comerciales. 

Las Américas se benefician más que otras regiones de un sistema global de comercio agrícola abierto. La agricultura siempre ha sido un tema controvertido en las negociaciones comerciales, desde los orígenes del Acuerdo General sobre Aranceles Aduaneros y Comercio (GATT) en la década de 1940. A pesar de ello, las instituciones multilaterales funcionales son de gran valor porque crean un mercado global estable y basado en normas, lo cual posibilita el comercio de alimentos a gran escala. 

Inflación y variabilidad de precios 

La inseguridad alimentaria se agrava con una inflación rápida de precios y una alta variabilidad de precios. Desde los años 2000, los sucesivos choques han generado nuevos niveles base de precios más altos. Los alimentos son menos asequibles, y los hogares enfrentan más dificultades para mantener una dieta saludable. 

La inflación y la volatilidad de los precios de los alimentos son tan problemáticas en las Américas como en otras partes del mundo, y se han convertido en un tema clave social y político. En América Latina, el aumento de los precios de los alimentos ha sido un principal impulsor de la inflación regional, mientras que en América del Norte, el alza de precios ha sido una de las principales causas de la crisis del costo de vida que afecta a muchos hogares. 

Un supermercado colombiano exhibe una variedad de verduras a la venta. (Unsplash/nrd)

Inversión: Innovación, tecnología e infraestructura 

Las innovaciones y aumentos de productividad dentro y fuera del ámbito agrícola —derivadas de los avances tecnológicos, las mejoras en los procesos y las inversiones en infraestructura— han sido fundamentales para aumentar la oferta de alimentos y satisfacer la creciente demanda mundial. 

Desde la década de 1990, las ganancias globales en eficiencia han superado ampliamente otros factores, como el uso de más insumos por hectárea, la expansión del riego en tierras de cultivo o la apertura de nuevas áreas agrícolas (por ejemplo, la conversión de tierras forestales en agrícolas). 

Sin embargo, el crecimiento mundial de la Productividad Total de los Factores (PTF) —una medida de eficiencia que evalúa los insumos agrícolas en relación con los resultados— se está desacelerando. Después de aumentar de forma constante durante décadas, la PTF ha comenzado a caer, especialmente en las Américas

Las inversiones en infraestructura en gran parte del hemisferio también siguen siendo insuficientes, con trillones de dólares necesarios para mejorar las redes de transporte, energía y logística. 

Por ejemplo, en Canadá, el déficit de infraestructura, estimado en casi 200 mil millones de dólares, es particularmente relevante para las exportaciones agrícolas de ese país, que incluyen tanto productos alimenticios (como granos) como insumos agrícolas clave (como fertilizantes) producidos en su vasto interior. Reducir los costos y aumentar la eficiencia del transporte de estos bienes hacia los mercados internacionales exigirá modernizar la infraestructura de transporte

Cambios demográficos 

El empleo agrícola como proporción del PIB mundial lleva décadas en descenso. El hemisferio occidental ha seguido esta tendencia, lo que demuestra que la agricultura se está volviendo más intensiva en capital y más productiva. 
Hoy se produce más alimento por persona empleada en el sector. 

Sin embargo, existe un efecto generacional negativo asociado a esta tendencia. En todo el mundo, los agricultores están envejeciendo, en parte porque las oportunidades laborales en las fincas están disminuyendo. 
Esta tendencia es más pronunciada en las regiones más ricas, donde la proporción de empleo agrícola es menor, como en la Unión Europea y los Estados Unidos

Un dron sobrevuela un campo. (Unsplash/Job Vermeulen)

Hacia un futuro con seguridad alimentaria 

El mundo necesita una nueva y audaz forma de pensar sobre la seguridad alimentaria, una que incorpore una comprensión integral de cómo fuerzas divergentes están creando un panorama agroalimentario dinámico e inestable, que moldeará el futuro de maneras impredecibles. 

Ecología 

Un desafío central será garantizar que la producción de alimentos siga siendo rentable y resiliente frente a los cambios ecológicos disruptivos. 
Las sinergias entre los servicios ecosistémicos saludables, una producción agrícola robusta y la rentabilidad pueden encontrarse mediante la aplicación adecuada de imaginación, creatividad, formulación de políticas, inversión y acción práctica, utilizando el conocimiento y la participación de los agricultores y sus comunidades. 

La agricultura es un importante impulsor del cambio ecológico, incluido el uso del suelo y las emisiones de carbono. Sin embargo, al mismo tiempo, la agricultura posee un enorme potencial —bajo las condiciones nacionales e internacionales adecuadas— para ofrecer soluciones sólidas y duraderas. 

Los enfoques sinérgicos incluyen una amplia gama de técnicas y prácticas agrícolas alternativas, así como tecnologías novedosas, entre ellas: 

  • La agricultura regenerativa 
  • La siembra directa (no-till farming)
  • La agroforestería 
  • La agricultura climáticamente inteligente 
  • El Manejo 4R de Nutrientes (Right sources, Right rates, Right times, Right places: fuentes, dosis, momentos y lugares correctos para aplicar nutrientes). 

Aunque muchos de estos enfoques se consideraban antes experimentales o no comprobados, hoy eso es mucho menos cierto. Por ejemplo, la agricultura regenerativa cuenta con un número creciente de adeptos —incluidos agricultores— que creen que puede generar beneficios ambientales tangibles sin sacrificar los rendimientos en las fincas. Existe una enorme cantidad de tierras y suelos degradados que podrían revitalizarse mediante estas prácticas.

 
En las Américas, la degradación representa un problema serio, pero también una gran oportunidad. Brasil, por ejemplo, posee vastas extensiones de pastizales degradados que podrían volver a ser productivas utilizando métodos regenerativos, lo que ayudaría a reducir la presión sobre la conversión de bosques en las regiones del Cerrado y la Amazonía. 

Comercio, geopolítica e instituciones 

El aumento del proteccionismo y la competencia geopolítica socavan la cooperación entre Estados y erosionan la confianza internacional. El comercio mundial de alimentos depende de la fortaleza de las instituciones multilaterales y de los acuerdos internacionales, que suelen ser contribuyentes subestimados a la seguridad alimentaria global. Hoy, estas instituciones están siendo erosionadas, y el riesgo es la posible caída de todo el sistema multilateral de comercio. 

Una mayor cantidad de diálogo entre los Estados es un antídoto necesario. 
Un objetivo podría ser la creación de nuevas instituciones regionales, empezando, por ejemplo, con los principales productores agrícolas del hemisferio —un posible grupo “A5” compuesto por Estados Unidos, Brasil, México, Canadá y Argentina— para reunir a los ministros de agricultura en torno al diálogo comercial. 

Los resultados de dicho esfuerzo podrían incluir: 

  • Pactos regionales de seguridad alimentaria 
  • Compromisos de inversión en investigación agrícola
  • Acuerdos para evitar políticas comerciales que distorsionen los mercados 

Una idea relacionada es la creación de un Consejo Hemisférico Permanente de Seguridad Alimentaria, que reúna a los gobiernos para coordinar respuestas a crisis y choques, identificar vías para una mayor cooperación científica y tecnológica, y reforzar la norma que reconoce la responsabilidad del hemisferio como principal proveedor de alimentos para el resto del mundo. Instituciones hemisféricas existentes, como la Organización de los Estados Americanos (OEA) y el Banco Interamericano de Desarrollo (BID), podrían desempeñar un papel clave en la convocatoria y apoyo de este consejo. 

Tres locomotoras transportan mercancías sobre el paso de Ascotán hacia la frontera con Bolivia. (Wikimedia/Kabelleger)

Inversión en innovación, tecnología e infraestructura

La mejora constante de las actividades dentro y fuera de las fincas —incluyendo el uso innovador de nuevas tecnologías y procesos, así como la inversión de capital en los factores que las posibilitan (como la infraestructura)— es fundamental para garantizar que el hemisferio y el mundo sean seguros en materia alimentaria. 

La agricultura regenerativa y otros sistemas agroalimentarios sostenibles pueden potenciarse mediante la aplicación de tecnologías avanzadas. Algunos ejemplos incluyen

  • Fuentes de energía alternativas que mejoran las operaciones dentro y fuera de la finca, reduciendo al mismo tiempo la huella de carbono. 
  • Herramientas de teledetección geoespacial aplicadas a la agricultura de precisión, que permiten identificar y proteger los activos ecológicos. 
  • Robótica y tecnologías digitales móviles (incluyendo una mayor integración de dispositivos portátiles en las prácticas agrícolas) que pueden mejorar la eficiencia y reducir el impacto ambiental. 
  • Analítica impulsada por inteligencia artificial (IA), que puede integrar y utilizar flujos de datos provenientes de múltiples aplicaciones. 
  • Biotecnologías que mejoran la productividad agrícola y la eficiencia en el uso de nutrientes, al tiempo que protegen activos ecológicos como el suelo y el agua. 

Los agricultores son tanto usuarios como creadores de tecnologías y procesos innovadores, y deben tener la capacidad de adoptar y aprovechar estos avances. Sin embargo, la adopción en el campo no es lo mismo que la invención en laboratorio. 

Las encuestas globales de agricultores muestran que muchos son reacios a adoptar nuevas tecnologías o procesos cuando enfrentan altos costos iniciales de inversión y rendimientos inciertos. 

Por ello, los programas públicos de extensión agrícola, que conectan a investigadores y agricultores para fomentar el aprendizaje mutuo y la transferencia tecnológica, son críticos. Fortalecer los servicios de extensión debe ser una prioridad central para lograr una adopción amplia de innovaciones agrícolas. 

Asimismo, mejorar la infraestructura para fortalecer las cadenas de suministro agroalimentarias es esencial. Se necesitan estrategias que aborden este desafío desde la perspectiva de la resiliencia social e incluso transfronteriza (internacional). 

Una cosechadora recolecta maíz en un campo en el sur de Míchigan. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Los agricultores del futuro 

Para evitar el declive demográfico del sector agrícola, es fundamental que la agricultura se vuelva financieramente, socialmente y culturalmente atractiva para las nuevas generaciones. 

Para muchos jóvenes —especialmente aquellos sin una herencia familiar agrícola—, dedicarse al campo puede parecer anticuado, poco rentable, difícil, ajeno o poco atractivo… o todo lo anterior. 

No existe un conjunto único de soluciones reconocidas para revertir esta tendencia demográfica. Sin embargo, la evidencia global sugiere que una combinación de intervenciones podría ser suficiente

  • Facilitar el acceso a la agricultura, reduciendo las barreras de entrada, como el acceso limitado al financiamiento asequible y a la tierra cultivable. 
  • Cerrar las brechas de conocimiento y habilidades mediante programas de capacitación en campo, becas y programas de aprendizaje. 
  • Incentivar la participación de candidatos no tradicionales, como mujeres jóvenes, en la agricultura. 
  • Resaltar el papel creciente de la tecnología digital, la robótica, los macrodatos (Big Data), la teledetección, la inteligencia artificial y otras aplicaciones técnicas que resultan atractivas para los jóvenes ambiciosos y con afinidad tecnológica. 

En resumen, el futuro de la agricultura dependerá de su capacidad para integrar la innovación con el atractivo social y económico, de modo que las nuevas generaciones vean en el campo una oportunidad de progreso y liderazgo, no una ocupación del pasado. 

Conclusión breve 

Una cuestión central es si los actores clave del hemisferio —gobiernos, agricultores, sector privado, investigadores, fundaciones, grupos de la sociedad civil y el público— estarán dispuestos a invertir en procesos y enfoques transformadores que reduzcan riesgos a la vez que incrementen la prosperidad, la sostenibilidad y la resiliencia. 

Promover la difusión de innovaciones críticas para la seguridad alimentaria será una parte importante de esta ecuación. Es imperativo que los países y las instituciones multilaterales del hemisferio encuentren financiamiento y compartan el conocimiento tecnológico necesario para apoyar programas adaptados a las necesidades de la región. 

Otros actores no gubernamentales, incluyendo inversores, sector privado, investigadores, científicos, analistas y comunidades agrícolas, también deben actuar de manera concertada para visualizar, crear y fortalecer las herramientas necesarias que aseguren un futuro con seguridad alimentaria. 

agradecimientos

Este reporte fue elaborado por el Atlantic Council con el apoyo de The Mosaic Company como parte del proyecto Seguridad alimentaria: alineación estratégica en las Américas

Acerca de los autores

Peter Engelke es experto sénior del Centro Scowcroft para Estrategia y Seguridad del Atlantic Council, y experto sénior del Centro Global de Energía. Su diverso portafolio de trabajo abarca previsión estratégica; geopolítica, diplomacia y relaciones internacionales; cambio climático y sistemas terrestres; seguridad alimentaria, hídrica y energética; tecnologías emergentes y disruptivas y ecosistemas de innovación basados en tecnología; y demografía y urbanización, entre otros temas. Es el creador de la serie de publicaciones extensas más leída del Consejo, Global Foresight. Las afiliaciones previas de Engelke han incluido el Centro de Política de Seguridad de Ginebra, la Fundación Robert Bosch, el Foro Económico Mundial y el Centro Stimson.

Matias Margulis es profesor asociado de la Escuela de Políticas Públicas y Asuntos Globales y miembro de la facultad de Tierras y Sistemas Alimentarios de la Universidad de Columbia Británica. Sus intereses de investigación y docencia se centran en la gobernanza global, el desarrollo, los derechos humanos, el derecho internacional y la política alimentaria. Además de su investigación académica, Margulis tiene una amplia experiencia profesional en el ámbito de la formulación de políticas internacionales y fue representante canadiense ante la Organización Mundial del Comercio, la Organización para la Cooperación y el Desarrollo Económicos y la Organización de las Naciones Unidas para la Alimentación y la Agricultura.

Explora el programa

La Iniciativa GeoStrategy, alojada dentro del Centro Scowcroft para Estrategia y Seguridad, utiliza el desarrollo estratégico y la previsión a largo plazo para servir como el principal referente y convocante de análisis y soluciones relevantes para las políticas públicas, con el fin de comprender un mundo complejo e impredecible. A través de su trabajo, la iniciativa se esfuerza por revitalizar, adaptar y defender un sistema internacional basado en normas para fomentar la paz, la prosperidad y la libertad durante las próximas décadas.

The post El futuro de la alimentación en las Américas appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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O futuro da alimentação nas Américas https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/o-futuro-da-alimentacao-nas-americas/ Tue, 11 Nov 2025 14:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=885644 Um relatório do Centro Scowcroft para Estratégia e Segurança avalia os principais desafios e oportunidades que a segurança alimentar enfrenta no Hemisfério Ocidental em um cenário estratégico em transformação.

The post O futuro da alimentação nas Américas appeared first on Atlantic Council.

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Introdução

A segurança alimentar está no núcleo da segurança nacional, regional e global. Quando as sociedades possuem segurança alimentar, elas têm muito mais chances de alcançar estabilidade social e política; quando não a possuem, ocorre o contrário. Felizmente, o hemisfério ocidental — as Américas — é uma região com segurança alimentar. Embora o acesso aos alimentos continue sendo um desafio constante, a abundância de alimentos geralmente caracteriza as Américas, graças a uma base favorável de recursos naturais, condições geopolíticas estáveis e ampla cooperação entre os setores público e privado para aprimorar os métodos de produção e promover a inovação.

Entretanto, o futuro pode não se parecer com o passado. Diversos fatores determinantes de mudança podem alterar a trajetória da segurança alimentar no hemisfério, ameaçando a estabilidade e a produtividade dos atuais sistemas agroalimentares ou, alternativamente, oferecendo a esperança de que esses sistemas se tornem ainda mais fortes e resilientes. Esses fatores incluem o declínio de ecossistemas saudáveis e estáveis, as rápidas transformações na geopolítica, a erosão das instituições multilaterais, o aumento da inflação e da volatilidade dos preços dos alimentos, o potencial da inovação e das tecnologias emergentes, bem como as mudanças geracionais na agricultura e na produção agropecuária.

Embora essas forças se interconectem, muitos líderes as veem como desafios isolados. A interação entre elas multiplica o dinamismo do sistema, o que exigirá que formuladores de políticas públicas, líderes empresariais, investidores e produtores rurais encontrem soluções inovadoras diante de um cenário agroalimentar em rápida transformação — e não totalmente previsível.

Milho duro, sementes, feijões, pimentas e outros produtos secos são exibidos em uma prateleira de madeira na comunidade indígena de Zinacantán, México. (Unsplash/Alan De La Cruz)

Alimentação, sociedade e política           

Nenhum outro bem exerce impacto tão significativo sobre a sociedade e a política quanto os alimentos, pois as pessoas precisam se alimentar todos os dias. Muitas vezes, basta um único grande choque nos preços dos alimentos para alterar as dinâmicas sociais e políticas dentro de um país ou até mesmo em toda uma região. Embora preços elevados de alimentos tenham um impacto desproporcionalmente negativo sobre países vulneráveis, pobres e frágeis, eles também podem afetar de maneira significativa países que, de outra forma, seriam ricos e estáveis.

A definição padrão de segurança alimentar, adotada em 1996 pela Organização das Nações Unidas para a Alimentação e a Agricultura (FAO/Food and Agriculture Organization) e apenas ligeiramente revisada desde então, é:

A segurança alimentar existe quando todas as pessoas, em todos os momentos, têm acesso físico, social e econômico a alimentos seguros, nutritivos e em quantidade suficiente para atender às suas necessidades dietéticas e preferências alimentares, permitindo uma vida ativa e saudável.  

Algumas peças importantes do quebra-cabeça da segurança alimentar estão ausentes nesta formulação. Uma delas é a estabilidade ecológica. A segurança alimentar depende da sustentabilidade dos sistemas terrestres subjacentes, essenciais à produção de alimentos. A segunda é a estabilidade do sistema internacional, especificamente a estabilidade de uma ordem comercial baseada em regras, que garante que os alimentos possam se mover com facilidade de países com excedentes para países com déficits alimentares.

Essas condições não devem ser tratadas como garantidas. Olhando para o futuro, é provável que o mundo se torne mais dinâmico — e não o contrário — com ganhos e perdas. Para prosperar, os sistemas agroalimentares globais precisarão se tornar mais resilientes e adaptáveis.

Prateleiras repletas de arroz e feijão embalados à venda em um supermercado em Utiva, Costa Rica. (Unsplash/Bernd Dittrich)

Segurança alimentar nas américas

O hemisfério ocidental desempenha um papel indispensável na segurança alimentar global.

Lado da oferta: Produção agrícola nas Américas

Os cinco maiores países produtores de culturas agrícolas primárias do mundo (em volume) estão todos nas Américas: Brasil, Estados Unidos, Argentina, México e Canadá. O hemisfério também abriga os principais exportadores das quatro principais culturas globais: soja, milho, trigo e arroz. Além disso, as Américas produzem uma ampla variedade de culturas especiais, incluindo café, abacate, limões, limas, laranjas, mirtilos, cerejas, quinoa, amêndoas e outras.

A agricultura continua sendo uma peça fundamental das economias nacionais nas Américas. Em grande parte dos países, sua participação no PIB é superior a 5%, e em alguns casos ultrapassa 10%.

Lado da demanda: Calorias e nutrição

A definição de segurança alimentar da FAO enfatiza que, se as pessoas não tiverem acesso a uma dieta nutritiva a preços acessíveis e estáveis, elas não estarão em situação de segurança alimentar.

Nas últimas décadas, o hemisfério ocidental reduziu gradualmente seu nível de insegurança alimentar. Comparativamente, teve um bom desempenho. Entre 1990 e 2015, a América Latina e o Caribe foram as únicas regiões do mundo a reduzir a fome pela metade. Atualmente, o hemisfério apresenta desempenho superior à média mundial em indicadores de desnutrição, insegurança alimentar grave e prevalência de emagrecimento em crianças pequenas, (embora vários países apresentem desempenho inferior, incluindo Haiti, Bolívia, Honduras, Equador e Guatemala). Em métricas relacionadas a dietas inadequadas, como sobrepeso e obesidade, as Américas tiveram desempenho menos favorável.

Por fim, as mulheres nas Américas têm uma probabilidade ligeiramente maior do que os homens de enfrentar insegurança alimentar.

Um caminhão carrega caixas de sementes em um campo em Michigan. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Fatores de transformação nas américas, e além

A segurança alimentar nas Américas enfrenta diversos fatores significativos e interconectados de transformação.

Transformações ecológicas

Os riscos ecológicos estão entre as maiores ameaças à segurança alimentar. Os principais riscos incluem mudanças climáticas, desmatamento, perda de biodiversidade e erosão e degradação do solo. Talvez o mais preocupante para a produção agrícola seja a combinação de seca e calor — as chamadas condições “quentes e secas” — que ameaçam se tornar mais frequentes em todo o mundo e nas Américas. Um cenário desanimador para o futuro é a ocorrência de múltiplas falhas nas “breadbaskets (quebras simultâneas de safra em regiões produtoras de grãos-chave). As Américas, que abrigam vários dos principais produtores mundiais de culturas alimentares básicas, enfrentam essa possibilidade. As mudanças climáticas também terão impacto negativo sobre a maioria das culturas especiais, incluindo café e bananas.

Os agricultores serão impactados de maneiras diferentes, dependendo de onde se localizam no hemisfério, do tamanho e dos recursos de suas propriedades (financeiros e de outra natureza), de serem agricultores de subsistência ou estarem integrados aos mercados nacionais, regionais e globais, e dos tipos de culturas que cultivam. Os pequenos produtores em contextos menos favorecidos estarão sob maior risco, devido ao tamanho reduzido de suas propriedades e à falta de acesso a seguros e a outros recursos.

Potencialmente, transformações ecológicas com impactos em larga escala podem gerar déficits significativos na oferta global de alimentos, provocando pânico nos mercados, elevação de preços, acúmulo de estoques e colapso do comércio. A insegurança alimentar aumentaria drasticamente

Turbulência geopolítica e geoeconômica

Um segundo conjunto de riscos decorre da crescente incerteza geopolítica e geoeconômica. Um sistema comercial aberto e baseado em regras tem sido essencial para o avanço da segurança alimentar, promovendo maior integração econômica — o que beneficia a segurança alimentar por meio de crescimento econômico mais elevado, maior geração de empregos, aumento de renda, redução da pobreza e dinamismo econômico.

Ainda assim, o sistema global de comércio de alimentos tem sido impactado por diversos eventos geopolíticos significativos, incluindo guerras (como a guerra na Ucrânia), políticas comerciais e sanções que geram choques inesperados sobre insumos agrícolas, cadeias de suprimentos e exportações agroalimentares — resultando em aumento dos custos de produção e dos preços dos alimentos.

O sistema de comércio agroalimentar pode estar retornando a uma ordem protecionista anterior aos anos 1990, quando os países costumavam aplicar tarifas elevadas apenas sobre algumas culturas politicamente sensíveis (como açúcar ou algodão). O protecionismo atual, no entanto, é significativamente mais amplo, afetando um número maior de culturas e sendo implementado por uma lista cada vez mais extensa de países.

Os padrões de comércio estão se transformando em função da geopolítica. O comportamento da China é um exemplo significativo. Há uma década, a China importava mais produtos agrícolas dos Estados Unidos do que do Brasil; atualmente, importa quase o dobro do Brasil em relação aos EUA. Esse processo de desacoplamento da China em relação ao mercado agrícola norte-americano contribuiu para que o Brasil se tornasse o maior exportador mundial de soja. Além disso, após a imposição de tarifas pelos Estados Unidos, em agosto de 2025, sobre determinados produtos agrícolas brasileiros, é provável que o Brasil intensifique seu interesse em desenvolver mercados de exportação alternativos para produtos agrícolas, incluindo a China.

Incerteza institucional

As instituições multilaterais têm contribuído para proporcionar uma prosperidade sem precedentes — embora desigual — ao impulsionar o comércio global e hemisférico. No entanto, essas instituições estão agora sob enorme pressão. As maiores potências comerciais do mundo, assim como muitos países menores, têm demonstrado disposição para romper normas estabelecidas e leis internacionais de comércio, gerando incertezas em torno das regras que regem o sistema comercial.

As Américas se beneficiam mais do que outras regiões de um sistema global de comércio aberto de produtos agrícolas. A agricultura sempre foi um tema controverso nas negociações comerciais, desde a origem, na década de 1940, do Acordo Geral sobre Tarifas e Comércio (GATT/General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade). Apesar disso, instituições multilaterais funcionais são valiosas, pois criam um mercado global estável e baseado em regras, que, por sua vez, possibilita o comércio de alimentos em larga escala.

Inflação e volatilidade dos preços

A insegurança alimentar se agrava com a rápida inflação de preços e a elevada volatilidade dos preços. Desde os anos 2000, choques geraram novos patamares mais altos de preços. Os alimentos se tornaram menos acessíveis, e as famílias enfrentam maior dificuldade para consumir uma dieta saudável.

A inflação e a volatilidade dos preços dos alimentos são tão problemáticas nas Américas quanto em outras regiões do mundo, tornando-se uma questão social e política fundamental. Na América Latina, o aumento dos preços dos alimentos tem sido um dos principais impulsionadores da inflação em toda a região, enquanto na América do Norte, o aumento dos preços dos alimentos é uma das principais causas da crise do custo de vida enfrentada por muitas famílias.

Um supermercado colombiano exibe uma variedade de vegetais à venda. (Unsplash/nrd)

Investimento: Inovação, tecnologia e infraestrutura

A inovação dentro e fora das propriedades rurais, aliada ao aumento da produtividade, decorrentes de avanços processuais e tecnológicos, além de melhorias na infraestrutura, têm sido fundamentais para aumentar a oferta de alimentos e atender à crescente demanda. Desde a década de 1990, os ganhos globais de eficiência superaram amplamente os demais fatores, incluindo o uso de mais insumos por hectare de terra, a extensão da irrigação em áreas cultivadas e a expansão de novas terras agrícolas (por exemplo, a expansão da agricultura em áreas anteriormente florestadas).

Infelizmente, o crescimento global da Produtividade Total dos Fatores (PTF — métrica de eficiência que relaciona os insumos agrícolas aos resultados obtidos) está desacelerando. Após décadas de crescimento contínuo, a PTF passou a registrar queda, especialmente nas Américas.

Os investimentos em infraestrutura em grande parte das Américas também permanecem subdesenvolvidos, sendo necessários trilhões de dólares para impulsionar a infraestrutura do hemisfério. No caso do Canadá, por exemplo, o déficit de infraestrutura — estimado em cerca de US$ 200 bilhões — é particularmente relevante para as exportações agrícolas do país, que têm importância global. Essas exportações incluem produtos alimentares como grãos e insumos agrícolas essenciais, como fertilizantes produzidos no vasto interior canadense. Para viabilizar o transporte desses produtos volumosos aos mercados externos de forma mais barata e eficiente, será necessário modernizar a infraestrutura logística do país.

Mudanças demográficas

A participação do emprego agrícola no PIB global vem diminuindo há décadas. O hemisfério ocidental tem seguido essa tendência, evidenciando que a agricultura está se tornando mais intensiva em capital e mais produtiva. Cada vez mais alimentos são produzidos por pessoa contratada no setor.

No entanto, há um efeito geracional negativo associado a essa tendência demográfica. Os agricultores em todo o mundo estão envelhecendo, em parte devido à redução das oportunidades de emprego no campo. Essa dinâmica é mais acentuada nas regiões mais ricas, que apresentam a menor participação relativa de empregos no setor agrícola, como a União Europeia e os Estados Unidos.

Um drone paira sobre um campo. (Unsplash/Job Vermeulen)

Construindo a segurança alimentar do futuro

O mundo precisa de uma nova e ousada forma de pensar sobre a segurança alimentar — uma abordagem que incorpore uma compreensão abrangente de como forças divergentes estão criando um cenário agroalimentar dinâmico e instável, que moldará o futuro de maneiras imprevisíveis.

Ecologia

Um dos principais desafios será garantir que a produção de alimentos continue sendo lucrativa e resiliente diante das mudanças ecológicas disruptivas. É possível encontrar sinergias entre serviços ecossistêmicos saudáveis, uma produção agrícola robusta e lucratividade, por meio da aplicação adequada de imaginação, criatividade, formulação de políticas públicas, investimentos e ações práticas, baseadas na contribuição e no conhecimento de agricultores e comunidades rurais.

A agricultura é um dos principais vetores das mudanças ecológicas, incluindo as relacionadas aos padrões de uso da terra e emissões de carbono. No entanto, ao mesmo tempo, a agricultura também possui um enorme potencial — sob as condições domésticas e internacionais adequadas — para oferecer soluções sólidas e duradouras.

Abordagens sinérgicas incluem uma variedade de técnicas e práticas agrícolas alternativas, bem como tecnologias emergentes, como agricultura regenerativa, cultivo sem revolvimento do solo (no-till farming), sistemas agroflorestais, agricultura inteligente para o clima (climate-smart agriculture) e o Manejo 4R de Nutrientes (4R Nutrient Stewardship) — um conjunto de práticas de gestão de nutrientes que prioriza o uso das fontes corretas, nas doses certas, nos momentos adequados e nos locais apropriados.

Embora muitas dessas abordagens tenham sido consideradas, no passado, experimentais, inovadoras e não comprovadas, hoje essa percepção mudou significativamente. A agricultura regenerativa, por exemplo, conta hoje com um número crescente de adeptos — incluindo produtores rurais — que acreditam em seu potencial para gerar benefícios ambientais concretos sem comprometer a produtividade das lavouras. Há uma quantidade expressiva de terras, incluindo solos, que poderiam ser revitalizadas por meio dessas práticas. Nas Américas, a degradação representa um problema grave, mas também uma grande oportunidade. O Brasil, por si só, possui extensas áreas de pastagens degradadas que poderiam ser reincorporadas à produção agrícola por meio de métodos regenerativos, contribuindo para reduzir a pressão por conversão de florestas nas regiões do Cerrado e da Amazônia. 

Comércio, geopolítica e instituições

O aumento do protecionismo e da competição geopolítica enfraquece a cooperação entre os Estados, desgastando a confiança internacional. O comércio global de alimentos depende da força das instituições multilaterais e dos acordos internacionais — instituições que, muitas vezes, não recebem o devido reconhecimento por sua contribuição à segurança alimentar mundial. Atualmente, essas instituições vêm sendo enfraquecidas, e o risco é o colapso de todo o sistema multilateral de comércio.

Mais diálogo entre os Estados é um antídoto para esse cenário. Um dos objetivos deve ser a construção de instituições alternativas — por exemplo, começando com os maiores produtores agrícolas do hemisfério, um grupo “A5” formado por Estados Unidos, Brasil, México, Canadá e Argentina — para reunir ministros da agricultura em torno de um diálogo sobre comércio. Os resultados potenciais incluem convenções regionais de segurança alimentar, compromissos de investimento em pesquisa agrícola e acordos para evitar as políticas que mais distorcem o comércio.

Uma ideia relacionada é a criação de um conselho hemisférico permanente de segurança alimentar, destinado a reunir governos para discutir respostas a choques, identificar caminhos para uma cooperação científica e tecnológica mais ampla e reforçar a norma que reconhece a responsabilidade do hemisfério perante o restante do mundo como um dos principais fornecedores de alimentos. Instituições hemisféricas, como a Organização dos Estados Americanos (OEA) e o Banco Interamericano de Desenvolvimento (BID), podem ser mobilizadas para convocar esse conselho.

Três locomotivas transportam mercadorias pela Passagem de Ascotán até a fronteira com a Bolívia. (Wikimedia/Kabelleger)

Investimento em inovação, tecnologia e infraestrutura

A melhoria contínua das atividades dentro e fora das propriedades rurais — incluindo o uso inovador de novas tecnologias e processos, além do investimento de capital nos elementos que os viabilizam (como a infraestrutura) — é fundamental para garantir a segurança alimentar no hemisfério e no mundo.

A agricultura regenerativa e outros sistemas agroalimentares voltados à sustentabilidade podem ser aprimorados por meio da aplicação de tecnologias avançadas. Exemplos incluem:

  • Fontes alternativas de energia podem aprimorar os sistemas dentro e fora das propriedades rurais, ao mesmo tempo em que reduzem as marcas das emissões de carbono.
  • Ferramentas de sensoriamento remoto geoespacial aplicadas à agricultura de precisão podem identificar e contribuir para a preservação dos recursos ecológicos.
  • Tecnologias robóticas e digitais móveis (incluindo a integração mais ampla de dispositivos portáteis às práticas agrícolas) podem aumentar a eficiência da produção agrícola, ao mesmo tempo em que reduzem o impacto ambiental.
  • As análises orientadas por inteligência artificial podem integrar e utilizar fluxos de dados provenientes de diversas aplicações.
  • As biotecnologias podem melhorar a produtividade no campo e a eficiência no uso de nutrientes, ao mesmo tempo em que protegem recursos ecológicos, como o solo e a água.

Os agricultores são tanto utilizadores quanto criadores de tecnologias e processos inovadores, e precisam ter condições de adotar e aplicar essas inovações. A adoção no campo não é o mesmo que a invenção em laboratório. Pesquisas globais indicam que os produtores rurais tendem a hesitar em adotar novas tecnologias e práticas quando os custos iniciais de investimento são elevados e os retornos financeiros são incertos.

Programas de extensão agrícola financiados com recursos públicos — que conectam pesquisadores a produtores, promovendo aprendizado mútuo e transferência de tecnologia — são fundamentais. O fortalecimento dos serviços de extensão deve estar no centro das estratégias para ampliar a adoção de inovações pelos agricultores.

Aprimorar a infraestrutura para fortalecer as cadeias de suprimento do sistema agroalimentar também é fundamental. Há uma necessidade premente de desenvolver estratégias que enquadrem esse desafio em termos de resiliência social e até mesmo transfronteiriça (internacional).

Uma colheitadeira colhe milho em um campo no sul de Michigan. (Unsplash/Loren King)

Agricultores para o futuro

Para evitar o declínio demográfico da agricultura, é fundamental tornar a atividade agrícola financeiramente, social e culturalmente atrativa para as novas gerações. Para os jovens — especialmente aqueles sem vínculo familiar com o setor —, a agricultura pode ser percebida como uma atividade ultrapassada, pouco lucrativa, difícil, distante da realidade ou “sem apelo” — ou todas essas coisas ao mesmo tempo.

Não existe um único conjunto de soluções reconhecidas para reverter as tendências demográficas no setor agrícola. No entanto, evidências de diversas partes do mundo indicam que uma combinação de intervenções pode ser eficaz: facilitar o acesso à atividade agrícola, por meio da redução de barreiras de entrada (como o acesso a financiamento acessível e a terras cultiváveis); reduzir lacunas de conhecimento e habilidades por meio de programas de capacitação prática nas propriedades rurais, bolsas de estudo e estágios supervisionados; incentivar a entrada de perfis não tradicionais na agricultura — como jovens mulheres — e destacar o papel cada vez mais relevante desempenhado pelas tecnologias digitais, pela robótica, pelo Big Data, pelo sensoriamento remoto, pela inteligência artificial e por outras aplicações técnicas que despertam o interesse de jovens ambiciosos e familiarizados com tecnologia.

Breve conclusão

Uma questão crucial é saber se os principais atores do hemisfério — governos, produtores rurais, setor privado, pesquisadores, fundações, organizações da sociedade civil e o público em geral — estarão dispostos a investir em processos e abordagens transformadoras capazes de reduzir riscos e, ao mesmo tempo, aumentar a prosperidade, a sustentabilidade e a resiliência.

Promover a difusão de inovações essenciais para a segurança alimentar será um elemento crucial dessa equação. É indispensável que os países e as instituições multilaterais do hemisfério encontrem fontes de financiamento e reúnam o conhecimento tecnológico necessário para apoiar programas adaptados às necessidades específicas da região.

Outras partes interessadas, não governamentais — incluindo investidores, o setor privado, pesquisadores, cientistas, analistas, além de agricultores e comunidades agrícolas — também deve agir em conjunto para conceber, criar e fortalecer as ferramentas que serão necessárias à garantia de um futuro com segurança alimentar.

agradecimentos

Este relatório foi produzido pelo Atlantic Council com o apoio da The Mosaic Company como parte do projeto Segurança alimentar: Alinhamento estratégico nas Américas.

Sobre os autores

Peter Engelke é pesquisador sênior do Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security do Atlantic Council, bem como pesquisador sênior do seu Global Energy Center. Seu portfólio diversificado abrange prospecção estratégica; geopolítica, diplomacia e relações internacionais; mudanças climáticas e sistemas terrestres; segurança alimentar, hídrica e energética; tecnologias emergentes e disruptivas e ecossistemas de inovação baseados em tecnologia; e demografia e urbanização, entre outros temas, sendo o criador da série de publicações de formato longo mais lida do Atlantic Council, Global Foresight. As afiliações anteriores de Engelke incluem o Geneva Centre for Security Policy, a Robert Bosch Foundation, o World Economic Forum e o Stimson Center.

Matias Margulis é professor associado da School of Public Policy and Global Affairs e membro do corpo docente de Sistemas Agrícolas e Alimentares da University of British Columbia. Seus interesses de pesquisa e ensino abrangem governança global, desenvolvimento, direitos humanos, direito internacional e política alimentar. Além de sua pesquisa acadêmica, Margulis possui vasta experiência profissional na área de formulação de políticas internacionais e foi representante canadense na Organização Mundial do Comércio, na Organização para a Cooperação e Desenvolvimento Econômico e na Organização das Nações Unidas para a Alimentação e a Agricultura.

explore o programa

A GeoStrategy Initiative, sediada no Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security, utiliza o desenvolvimento de estratégias e a prospecção de longo prazo para servir como principal referência e articuladora de análises e soluções relevantes para políticas públicas, visando a compreensão de um mundo complexo e imprevisível. Por meio de seu trabalho, a iniciativa busca revitalizar, adaptar e defender um sistema internacional baseado em regras, a fim de promover a paz, a prosperidade e a liberdade nas próximas décadas.

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The European Commission’s role in steering Europe’s strategic outlook https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/the-european-commissions-role-in-steering-europes-strategic-outlook/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=882365 Over the past decade, the European Commission has led the EU’s pivot toward balancing and “de-risking” China. Trade and investment have been at the heart of this strategy, not only because of the Commission’s authority in these domains, but also because they are the primary channels through which China challenges Europe’s economic and political interests.

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This is the third chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

The European Commission has played a central role in the evolution of the European Union’s (EU) relationship with China since the 1970s. For more than four decades, it championed the normalization and strengthening of bilateral ties in the spirit of engagement. In the past decade, however, it has also emerged as the leading force behind the EU’s shift toward balancing and “de-risking.” In doing so, it has leveraged its trade authority to tackle the areas where China poses the greatest challenges to its member states.

While the EU—and particularly the Commission—initially supported China’s integration into the world economy, it became clear by the early 2010s that the hopes and expectations of the EU’s engagement strategy were not materializing.1 Instead, China was rising to the status of a great power despite stalled liberalization and limited political integration. Its state-centered and protectionist economic policies presented the EU with structural issues: limited market access, industrial overcapacity and dumping, state subsidies, forced mergers, forced technology transfer, intellectual property theft, and currency manipulation. At the same time, Xi Jinping’s ascendance to power in 2012 ushered in an era of growing domestic authoritarianism and greater assertiveness abroad.

The Commission responded to this challenge in June 2016 with its document “Elements for a new EU strategy on China.” The strategy noted “a lack of progress in giving the market a more decisive role in the economy” and warned that “China’s authoritarian response to domestic dissent is undermining efforts to establish the rule of law and to put the rights of the individual on a sounder footing.” The Commission argued that the EU should therefore “promote reciprocity, a level playing field and fair competition across all areas of cooperation,” press Beijing to respect human rights and the rule of law, and ensure EU unity in dealing with China.2 Responding to China’s industrial overcapacity, which posed significant challenges to the German steel industry, the Commission launched investigations and imposed anti-dumping duties on Chinese steel imports in July 2016.3

Building on growing concerns about China’s unfair economic practices, the Commission has driven the EU’s shift from the engagement strategy towards an engage-and-balance approach and later to a more explicit balancing strategy vis-à-vis Beijing. In response to the structural issues in the relationship with China, the Commission adopted a new strategy in 2019 under President Jean-Claude Juncker. Its joint communication titled “EU-China: A strategic outlook” broke with decades of engagement policy by framing China not only as a strategic partner but also as a competitor and a systemic rival in the so-called European triptych: “[China is] simultaneously… a cooperation partner with whom the EU has closely aligned objectives… an economic competitor in the pursuit of technological leadership, and a systemic rival promoting alternative models of governance.”4

Ursula von der Leyen was elected Commission president in July 2019—and her first Commission both followed the essence of the Juncker strategy and expanded upon it. Under her leadership, from 2019 to 2022, the von der Leyen Commission shifted EU strategy from engagement to an engage-and-balance posture. In 2020 and 2021, China’s reputation and EU-China relations suffered a major setback as a result of Beijing’s role in the COVID-19 pandemic and its crackdown in Hong Kong and Xinjiang. At the same time, the first Trump administration negotiated the “phase one” trade agreement with China, which the Commission assessed, “gives America advantages over the EU in terms of trade and investment with China.”5 As a result, the von der Leyen Commission negotiated the landmark Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (CAI) with the Chinese government, which was viewed “as a ‘leveling up” with the US on trade terms relating to China.”6 Through the CAI, the Commission sought to improve the investment environment for European and Chinese investors and to remedy “level playing field issues” with provisions addressing “Chinese state-owned enterprises, transparency of subsidies, and forced technology transfer as well as on authorisations and administrative procedures.”7 However, the CAI came under intense pressure from the incoming Biden administration, which saw the agreement as a fait accompli and a potential obstacle to its plans for a coordinated transatlantic approach to China.8 The European Parliament opposed the CAI on account of China’s bans against several of its members and decided to suspend its ratification.9 As a result, the EU ultimately abandoned the agreement.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 and China’s support for the Russian war effort reshaped European attitudes toward China, prompting another shift in the Commission’s approach. Beginning in 2022, the Commission moved away from the EU triptych, increasingly viewing China as a systemic rival and shifting its strategy from an engage-and-balance posture toward explicit balancing. As von der Leyen underlined at the time, China’s “overcapacities in protected industries… can undermine our industrial base… China has increasingly resorted to trade coercion… China pursues a global order that is sino-centric and hierarchical… China’s assertive posture [in its neighborhood] affects… our own global interests… [We also have to look at China] as a technological competitor, a military power, a global player with a distinct and diverging idea of the global order.”10 In June 2023, the Commission unveiled its European Economic Security Strategy, which, although nominally country-ambivalent, was in practice largely aimed at addressing China‘s challenges.11 In the following years, the Commission advanced this strategy by proposing new instruments targeting pressing structural issues with China, including the Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI), the Foreign Subsidies Regulation (FSR), and the International Procurement Instrument (IPI).12

The second Trump administration’s turnaround on Ukraine, Russia, and trade tensions with the EU sent transatlantic relations into a tailspin beginning in February 2025, putting EU-China relations in a new context for many. Politicians and experts alike began floating the idea of rapprochement between the EU and China.13 Chinese leaders immediately courted EU officials, arguing that Brussels and Beijing could together defend “the rules-based order” from “unilateralism, protectionism and economic bullying,”—a not-so-veiled reference to President Trump’s tariff war. The Commission’s leadership initially showed openness to China’s overtures, hoping Beijing would make “the right offer” in the form of major concessions on long-standing structural issues threatening the EU’s economic and physical security.14 In March, EU Trade Commissioner Maroš Šefčovič met with Chinese leaders in Beijing to discuss ways “to improve and rebalance China-EU trade and investment relations.”15 In April, von der Leyen held a phone call with Chinese Premier Li Qiang to discuss improving bilateral relations.16 In May, China and the European Parliament agreed to lift restrictions on mutual exchanges, including China’s sanctions on some members of European Parliament.17

However, the Chinese leadership showed no willingness to significantly modify China’s positions on overcapacity dumping, market access, and other structural issues, as well as its support for Russia’s war effort. Meanwhile, the Trump administration and the European Commission continued negotiations, edging closer to a trade deal, and the US position on Ukraine began to converge with the earlier transatlantic consensus. In the changed geopolitical situation and the absence of a serious Chinese offer, the Commission concluded that the EU could not pursue a “grand deal” with China as long as Beijing remained unwilling to change its policies on structural economic issues or its role as an enabler of Russia’s war on Ukraine. Commission President von der Leyen and Council President António Costa communicated this stance to the Chinese leadership during the EU-China Summit in Beijing in July 2025.18

Trade and investment: Toward an economic security agenda

Trade and investment have been the focus of the European Commission’s China policy, both because of the Commission’s trade competence within the EU’s division of labor and because trade and investment are the core dimensions of EU-China relations. China is the EU’s largest trading partner for goods while the EU is China’s second largest trading partner, with China exporting €519 billion ($609 billion) to the EU and the EU exporting €213 billion to China in 2024. China accounts for 20.5 percent of the EU’s total imports.19

In EU-China trade and investment relations, the Commission has had to contend with a number of unfair practices through which China has repeatedly violated the rules of the international economic order, including overcapacity and dumping, state subsidies, restricting market access, forced mergers, public procurement, forced technology transfer, intellectual property theft, and currency manipulation. The von der Leyen Commission has attempted to address these issues in different ways, with tools aligned to its evolving posture. During the first period (2019-2023) when the Commission pursued an engage-and-balance approach, it sought to negotiate the CAI with China. During the second period (2023-2025), when the Commission shifted toward a balancing posture, it adopted an economic security and de-risking approach, designing the European Economic Security Strategy.

In the investment domain, the Commission has adopted the EU Foreign Investment Screening Regulation, which entered into force in October 2020.20 It serves as the framework for EU-wide screening of foreign direct investment (FDI) to protect security across member states. As with other economic security measures championed by the Commission, implementation has been limited by member states’ uneven participation. Between 2019 and 2020, the Commission then negotiated the CAI with China, addressing some of the unfair practices in the investment area but purposefully excluding similar practices in the trade domain. Under pressure from the Parliament and the Biden administration, the Commission ultimately abandoned the CAI.

In the trade area, the Commission focused primarily on economic security, de-risking, and reducing dependencies. The von der Leyen Commission recognized that many of these issues not only gave China unfair advantages over the EU but also threatened European economic security by undermining the sustainability of EU industries. Accordingly, in 2023, the Commission introduced the European Economic Security Strategy.21 This document established the EU’s counterpart to the United States’ decoupling strategy: an EU de-risking approach toward China. The strategy called for reassessing risks, re-examining regulations on inbound and outbound investments, and fully implementing export-control regulations.

In recent years, the Commission has advanced this de-risking strategy by creating new instruments, each of which targets a different dimension of the EU’s economic exposure to China. In July 2023, the Commission introduced the FSR to address one of the most serious concerns about Beijing’s economic conduct: the unfair advantages generated by widespread state subsidies to Chinese companies competing globally.22 The FSR aims “to address distortions caused by foreign subsidies [and] allows the EU to ensure a level playing field for all companies operating in the single market.”23

Complementing this effort, the ACI, adopted in December 2023, targets practices of economic coercion.24 While it does not single out China, most of the practices it targets have been employed by Beijing. The regulation defines economic coercion “as a situation where a third country attempts to pressure the EU or a Member State into making a particular choice by applying, or threatening to apply, measures affecting trade or investment against the EU or a Member State.”25 The instrument creates a process through which EU businesses or other stakeholders can report instances of economic coercion by third countries to a single point of contact. If the third country refuses to remove the coercion, the Commission can consider a broad spectrum of countermeasures, including “the imposition of tariffs, restrictions on trade in services and trade-related aspects of intellectual property rights, and restrictions on access to foreign direct investment and public procurement.” While this represents a significant step, its effectiveness will depend on actual implementation.26

Finally, the IPI, established in December 2022, seeks “to promote reciprocity in access to international public procurement markets.”27 Under this instrument, the Commission can “investigate alleged measures or practices negatively affecting the access of EU businesses, goods and services to non-EU procurement markets, and consult with the non-EU countries concerned.”28 If a foreign country’s public procurement practices are found to violate EU and international norms, the Commission may exclude the country’s companies from the EU’s public procurement processes. In its first application, ahead of the EU-China Summit in 2025, the Commission excluded Chinese companies from EU public procurement of medical devices after finding that EU manufacturers were denied equal access to procurement in China.29

Technology: Establishing resilience in critical industries

Technology has been a central pillar of the European Commission’s China policy because advanced technologies lie at the heart of Europe’s economic security, industrial competitiveness, and digital sovereignty. Since 2019, the Commission’s posture has shifted from an engage‑and‑balance approach to a more explicit de‑risking approach, framing China as “an economic competitor in the pursuit of technological leadership.”30 This new strategy aims to reduce critical dependencies and limiting the leakage of sensitive know‑how while keeping Europe open and competitive.

During the engage-and-balance period (2019-2023), the Commission focused on technology protection. When it shifted toward a balancing posture (2023-2025), it adopted the European Economic Security Strategy, launched joint risk assessments for ten critical technology areas—with a particular focus on advanced semiconductors, artificial intelligence (AI), quantum, and biotechnologies—and introduced the January 2024 economic‑security package.31

In EU-China technology relations, the Commission has had to address a cluster of persistent risks and practices that mirror—and often intensify—the challenges seen in trade and investment: cyber‑enabled IP theft and espionage against EU networks and firms; leakage of dual‑use and frontier technologies through exports, outbound investment, and research ties; reliance on high‑risk suppliers in critical infrastructure (notably 5G/6G); influence in standards‑setting that can lock in non‑reciprocal advantages; platform‑level risks to users (minors, personal data, democratic processes); and strategic dependencies on critical raw materials that underpin clean‑tech and digital supply chains. These risks—and the “de‑risk, not decouple” approach to mitigate them—were codified in the 2023 European Economic Security Strategy and operationalized through its critical‑technologies list and follow‑on initiatives.32

Hardening critical infrastructure began with the EU’s 5G Security Toolbox in 2020, a common risk‑based framework that allows member states to assess suppliers and apply restrictions or exclusions where warranted. In June 2023, the Commission urged full implementation and stated that member‑state decisions to restrict or exclude Huawei and ZTE from 5G networks are “justified and compliant with the 5G Toolbox.”33 Together, these measures aim to reduce systemic exposure in core and access networks while supporting interoperable, secure deployments across the single market.34

Controlling sensitive technology flows has proceeded on two tracks. First, the recast Dual‑Use Regulation modernized export controls, including a human‑rights‑focused “catch‑all” for certain cyber‑surveillance items, while the Commission pushed for tighter coordination and guidance for uniform practice.35 Second, the January 2024 “White Paper on Export Controls” proposed short‑ and medium‑term steps to make EU controls more effective and more coordinated; the companion “White Paper on Outbound Investments” opened a structured path toward a risk‑based EU framework for outward investments in narrowly defined, security‑relevant technologies.36 Building on this, the January 2025 recommendation asks member states to review recent and ongoing outbound investments in semiconductors, AI, and quantum technologies, and to share results to inform potential EU‑level action.37 The problem with these regulations is that the Commission cannot implement them without the active participation of member states. As a result, putting them into practice has been a challenge.

The EU Chips Act forms the backbone of Europe’s effort to rebuild semiconductor capacity and resilience. It establishes a framework of measures to strengthen Europe’s semiconductor ecosystem, including a crisis response mechanism, funding instruments (the Chips Joint Undertaking), and support for design, fabrication, advanced packaging, and skills.¹¹ The aim is to reduce strategic dependencies across both leading‑edge and mature nodes while anchoring more of the value chain inside the EU.38 Securing inputs for strategic technologies has advanced through the Critical Raw Materials Act, which sets benchmarks for domestic extraction, processing, and recycling by 2030 and, crucially, diversifies supply away from single‑country concentration. This directly addresses Europe’s exposure to Chinese dominance in several inputs essential to clean‑tech and digital industries and complements trade‑defense and industrial policies.39 The Commission has also moved to protect Europe’s research base and knowledge flows. For instance, a 2022 research‑security toolkit provides universities and labs with practical due‑diligence measures on values, governance, partnerships, and cybersecurity when cooperating internationally.40

Horizontal digital‑rule enforcement and baseline resilience complement these measures. Under the Digital Services Act, the Commission opened formal proceedings against TikTok in February 2024 on several risk‑management and transparency grounds, reflecting platform‑level concerns that also feature in EU–China relations.41 Earlier, EU institutions restricted TikTok on official devices as a protective measure.42 The EU Artificial Intelligence Act establishes market‑entry guardrails—prohibitions on certain uses, requirements for high‑risk systems, and an AI office—with phased application through 2026 and 2027.43 In parallel, the NIS2 Directive and the Cyber Resilience Act raise cybersecurity baselines for essential and important entities, as well as for products with digital elements across the single market, reducing the attack surface for data exfiltration and supply‑chain compromise.44 Finally, the Commission’s standardization strategy seeks to restore European leadership in global technical standards so that interoperability norms reflect EU security interests rather than entrench strategic dependencies.45

Security: From partnership to systemic rivalry

The European Commission’s policy on China in the security area may have undergone the most significant transformation of any policy domain in the past few decades. From envisioning a “strategic security partnership” with China in its 2003 communication “EU-China relations: A Maturing Partnership,” the Commission in recent years has come to view China primarily as a “systemic rival.46 Once focused mainly on the economic aspects of the EU’s external affairs—including trade, investment, aid, and energy—the Commission has shifted its outlook to emphasize the EU’s security interests as the world around Europe has become more complex and dangerous. In recent years, it has begun to look at the EU economy’s resilience in terms of “economic security” and the EU’s technological vulnerabilities in terms of cybersecurity and critical infrastructure security. Furthermore, the Commission has in recent years assumed a significant role in diplomatic, political, and military efforts to guarantee the EU’s physical security vis-à-vis Russia and China, in cooperation with the United States and other allies and partners.

This shift toward security and the process of securitization have been especially prominent since Russia’s unlawful invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. The Commission has actively supported Ukraine’s self-defense by mobilizing EU resources and diplomatic efforts. Crucially, it considers China’s role in supporting Russia’s war effort as a direct threat to European security. In President von der Leyen’s words, “China’s unyielding support for Russia is creating heightened instability and insecurity here in Europe. We can say that China is de facto enabling Russia’s war economy. We cannot accept this.”47 Since 2023, the Commission has introduced anti-circumvention tools and a contractual “no Russia” clause for exporters, banning EU exporters from re-exporting to Russia.48 In December 2024, the EU’s fifteenth sanctions package listed Chinese entities and individuals that helped Russia procure sensitive components—and subsequent packages in 2025 tightened controls further.49

The European Commission is increasingly concerned about Chinese intelligence and espionage activities, citing growing evidence of cyberattacks, human intelligence operations targeting EU institutions, and the infiltration of critical infrastructure by Chinese companies. It has therefore sharpened its response to suspected Chinese intelligence activity, raising the issue directly with Beijing, calling out malicious cyber operations, and urging Beijing to respect international norms.50 On the issue of cyber espionage, it raised the EU institutions’ cyber baseline by proposing and implementing a new cybersecurity regulation that strengthens networks and boosts CERT-EU’s capacity. Moreover, the Commission ordered TikTok to be removed from staff work devices as a precaution.51 To address risks from human intelligence, it proposed the “Defense of Democracy” package, including a law requiring transparency from actors lobbying on behalf of foreign governments.52 On critical infrastructure, it pressed EU countries to apply the 5G Security Toolbox and helped launch an EU-NATO task force to bolster infrastructure resilience.53

In response to China’s regional hegemonic ambitions, the Commission has also shifted its approach to Indo-Pacific security. In 2003, the Commission wrote that there was an “undeniable interest in acting as strategic partners” and that “China could play a fundamental role… in promoting peace and stability in Asia.54 Nearly twenty years later, the Commission and the High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy published “The EU strategy for cooperation in the Indo-Pacific.” The document framed the Indo-Pacific as the EU’s “natural partner region” and expressed concern about China’s aggressive posturing, arguing that “the display of force and increasing tensions in regional hotspots such as in the South and East China Sea and in the Taiwan Strait may have a direct impact on European security and prosperity.”55 As the challenges posed by China in the region have increased, the connection between European security and Indo-Pacific security has grown. As Commission President von der Leyen recently stated: “Security is more interlinked between the Euro-Atlantic and the Indo-Pacific than it has been in several generations.”56

The Commission has taken concrete steps to put this strategy into practice by partnering with Indo-Pacific countries to strengthen the region’s prosperity and security. It brought the EU-New Zealand trade agreement into force on May 1, 2024, and signed a digital trade agreement with Singapore in 2025.57 It also launched the EU-India Trade and Technology Council to deepen cooperation on trade and digital policy with New Delhi.58 Through its Global Gateway strategy, the Commission announced new projects with Southeast Asia in 2024, such as a Philippines Digital Economy Package and support for the rehabilitation of a national road in Laos.59 Moreover, it funds maritime safety and information sharing in the region through the Critical Maritime Routes Indo Pacific program.60 The Commission has also helped open air links by advancing a bloc-to- bloc air transport agreement between the EU and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations.61 Together, these steps aim to strengthen Indo Pacific security and—given the interlinkage—Euro-Atlantic security.

Conclusion

The European Commission has played an outsized role in shaping the EU’s China policy over the past several decades. During the late Cold War and the post-Cold War period, it pursued an engagement strategy toward China and sought to integrate Beijing into the international economy and the rules-based world order. By the 2010s, however, it recognized—alongside the US government, other EU institutions, and member states—that its engagement with China had not led to Beijing becoming a “responsible stakeholder.”

Instead, China took advantage of its “partners,” violated the rules of the international economic system, and emerged as a global great power. In response, the European Commission has driven the EU’s gradual shift away from engagement with China—first to a mixed engage-and-balance posture and, more recently, to a strategy centered on balancing and de-risking. Intensifying US-China strategic competition—and the recalibration of US China policy under the Trump and Biden administrations—have significantly pushed the Commission (and the EU more broadly) in this direction. This shift was further accelerated by Russia’s unlawful aggression against Ukraine in February 2022 and by China’s support for the Russian war machine. While periods of perceived US disengagement from global affairs—and from Europe—have at times made the Commission hesitant to pursue a balancing approach toward China, these developments have nonetheless strengthened its resolve to defend EU interests more firmly.

Similarly, China’s economic practices have pushed the Commission toward a more assertive and security-conscious stance, aligning it more closely with US balancing efforts. By advancing this shift and shaping the EU’s de-risking strategy, the Commission—especially under President Ursula von der Leyen’s leadership—has assumed a central role in steering the EU’s China policy to protect the bloc’s economic, technological, and security interests.

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1    Yoko Iwama, “The EU’s Reaction to the Rise of China,” Project for Peaceful Competition, February 21, 2022, https://www.peaceful-competition.org/pub/ry5b8lou/release/1.
3    “Commission, Implementing Regulation (EU) 2016/1328 of 29 July 2016 Imposing a Definitive Anti-Dumping Duty and Collecting Definitively the Provisional Duty Imposed on Imports of Certain Cold Rolled Flat Steel Products Originating in the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation,” European Commission, July 29, 2016, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg_impl/2016/1328/oj/eng.
4    “EU-China—A Strategic Outlook,” European Commission, March 12, 2019, https://commission.europa.eu/system/files/2019-03/communication-eu-china-a-strategic-outlook.pdf.
5    David Hutt, “EU-China Deal May Give Biden’s Team More Options,” Asia Times, December 31, 2020, https://asiatimes.com/2020/12/eu-china-deal-may-give-bidens-team-more-options/.
6    Ibid.
7    Gisela Grieger, “EU-China Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (EU-China CAI),” Legislative Train Schedule, European Parliament, August 15, 2025, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/legislative-train/theme-a-global-europe-leveraging-our-power-and-partnerships/file-eu-china-investment-agreement.
8    Robert Delaney, “China-EU Investment Deal: Joe Biden Repeats Call for ‘Coordinated Approach’ to Handle Beijing,” South China Morning Post, December 31, 2020, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3115917/china-eu-investment-deal-joe-biden-repeats-call-coordinated.
9    Grieger, “EU-China Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (EU-China CAI).”
10    Ursula von der Leyen, “Speech by Ursula von der Leyen at the European China Conference 2023,” Mercator Institute for China Studies, November 16, 2023, https://merics.org/en/speech-ursula-von-der-leyen-european-china-conference-2023.
11    “Joint Communication to the European Parliament, the European Council and the Council on ‘European Economic Security Strategy,’” European Commission, June 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/ALL/?uri=JOIN:2023:20:FIN.
12    “Anti-Coercion Instrument: New Tool to Enable EU to Withstand Economic Coercion Enters into Force,” European Commission, December 26, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_6804; “Foreign Subsidies Regulation,” European Commission, July 12, 2023, https://competition-policy.ec.europa.eu/foreign-subsidies-regulation_en; “International Public Procurement Instrument,” European Commission, last visited September 5, 2025, https://trade.ec.europa.eu/access-to-markets/en/content/international-public-procurement-instrument.
13    Valbona Zeneli and Zoltán Fehér, “How the U.S. Is Pushing the EU Closer to China,” National Interest, May 13, 2025, https://nationalinterest.org/feature/how-the-u-s-is-pushing-the-eu-closer-to-china.
14    Huizhong Wu, “China Accuses US of Unilateralism, Protectionism and Economic Bullying with Tariffs,” Associated Press, April 7, 2025, https://apnews.com/article/china-us-tariffs-trade-trump-5dd928eabb83b9cc560e1d6971f52e7f.
15    “Read-out of the Meetings between Commissioner Šefčovič and Chinese Vice Premier He Lifeng, Commerce Minister Wang Wentao and Customs Minister Sun Meijun,” European Commission, March 30, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/read_25_923.
16    “Read-out of the Phone Call between President von Der Leyen and Chinese Premier Li Qiang,” European Commission, April 7, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/read_25_1004.
17    “China to Lift Sanctions on Members of European Parliament,” Reuters, May 16, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/china/china-lift-sanctions-eu-parliament-members-official-says-2025-04-30.
18    Zoltán Fehér and Valbona Zeneli, “The Great Wall Between China and the EU,” Diplomat, July 19, 2025, https://thediplomat.com/2025/07/the-great-wall-between-china-and-the-eu.
19    “China: EU Trade Relations with China,” European Commission, August 6, 2025, https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/eu-trade-relationships-country-and-region/countries-and-regions/china_en.
20    “EU Foreign Investment Screening Regulation Becomes Fully Operational,” European Commission, October 8, 2020), https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_20_1867.
21    “Joint Communication to the European Parliament, the European Council and the Council on ‘European Economic Security Strategy.’”
22    “Regulation (EU) 2022/2560 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 14 December 2022 on Foreign Subsidies Distorting the Internal Market,” European Union, December 23, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2022/2560/oj/eng.
23    “Foreign Subsidies Regulation.”
24    “Regulation (EU) 2023/2675 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 22 November 2023 on the Protection of the Union and Its Member States from Economic Coercion by Third Countries,” European Union, November 22, 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2023/2675/oj/eng.
25    “Anti-Coercion Instrument.”
26    Ibid.
27    “International Public Procurement Instrument.”
28    “The EU’s International Procurement Instrument—IPI,” European Union, last visited September 8, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/EN/legal-content/summary/the-eu-s-international-procurement-instrument-ipi.html.
29    Andrea Figueras, “EU to Restrict China’s Participation in Medical Devices Procurement,” Wall Street Journal, June 20, 2025, https://www.wsj.com/world/europe/eu-to-restrict-chinas-participation-in-medical-devices-procurement-455f8d28.
30    “EU‑China—A Strategic Outlook.”
31    “European Economic Security Strategy”; “Commission Recommendation (EU) 2023/2113 of 3 October 2023 on Critical Technology Areas for the EU’s Economic Security for Further Risk Assessment with Member States,” European Union, October 11, 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reco/2023/2113/oj; “Advancing European Economic Security: An Introduction to Five New Initiatives,” European Commission, January 24, 2024, https://commission.europa.eu/system/files/2024-01/Communication%20on%20European%20economic%20security.pdf.
32    “European Economic Security Strategy”; “Commission Recommendation (EU) 2023/2113 of 3 October 2023 on Critical Technology Areas for the EU’s Economic Security for Further Risk Assessment with Member States.”
33    “Commission Announces Next Steps on Cybersecurity of 5G Networks in Complement to Latest Progress Report by Member States,” European Commission, press release, June 14, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_3309.
34    “Secure 5G Deployment in the EU—Implementing the EU Toolbox,” European Commission, January 29, 2020, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:52020DC0050.
35    “Regulation (EU) 2021/821 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 20 May 2021 Setting up a Union Regime for the Control of Exports, Brokering, Technical Assistance, Transit and Transfer of Dual‑Use Items,” European Union, November 8, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2021/821/oj/eng.
36    “White Paper on Export Controls,” European Commission, January 24, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:52024DC0025; “White Paper on Outbound Investments,” European Commission, January 24, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:52024DC0024.
37    “Commission Recommendation (EU) 2025/63 of 15 January 2025 on Outbound Investments in Technology Areas Critical for the Economic Security of the Union,” Official Journal of the European Union, January 15, 2025, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=OJ:L_202500063.
38    “Regulation (EU) 2023/1781 of the European Union and of the Council of 13 September 2023 Establishing a Framework of Measures for Strengthening Europe’s Semiconductor Ecosystem and Amending Regulation (EU) 2021/694 (Chips Act),” European Union, September 18, 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2023/1781/oj/eng.
39    “Regulation (EU) 2024/1252 of the European Union and of the Council of 11 April 2024 Establishing a Framework for Ensuring a Secure and Sustainable Supply of Critical Raw Materials and Amending Regulations (EU) No 168/2013, (EU) 2018/1724 and (EU) 2019/1020,” European Union, May 3, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2024/1252/oj/eng.
40    “Tackling R&I Foreign Interference,” European Union, January 18, 2022, https://op.europa.eu/en/publication-detail/-/publication/3faf52e8-79a2-11ec-9136-01aa75ed71a1/language-en.
41    “Commission Opens Formal Proceedings against TikTok under the Digital Services Act,” European Commission, press release, February 18, 2024, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_24_926.
42    Foo Yun Chee, “European Parliament Latest EU Body to Ban TikTok from Staff Phones—EU Official Says,” Reuters, February 28, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/technology/european-parliament-ban-tiktok-staff-phones-eu-official-says-2023-02-28.
43    “Regulation (EU) 2024/1689 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 13 June 2024 Laying Down Harmonised Rules on Artificial Intelligence and Amending Regulations (EC) No 300/2008, (EU) No 167/2013, (EU) 168/2013, (EU) 2018/858 and (EU) 2019/2144 and Directives 2014/90/EU, (EU) 2016/797 and (EU) 2020/1828 (Artificial Intelligence Act),” European Union, July 12, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2024/1689/oj/eng; “AI Act Enters into Force,” European Commission, August 1, 2024, https://commission.europa.eu/news-and-media/news/ai-act-enters-force-2024-08-01_en.
44    “Directive (EU) 2022/2555 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 14 December 2022 on Measures for a High Common Level of Cybersecurity across the Union, Amending Regulation (EU) No 910/2014 and Directive (EU) 2018/1972, and Repealing Directive (EU) 2016/1148 (NIS2 Directive),” European Union, December 27, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/dir/2022/2555/oj/eng; Regulation (EU) 2024/2847 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 23 October 2024 on Horizontal Cybersecurity Requirements for Products with Digital Elements and Amending Regulations (EU) No 168/2013 and (EU) 2019/1020 and Directive (EU) 2020/1828 (Cyber Resilience Act),” European Union, November 18, 2024, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/reg/2024/2847/oj/eng.
45    “An EU Strategy on Standardisation—Setting Global Standards in Support of a Resilient, Green and Digital EU Single Market,” European Commission, February 2, 2022, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/PDF/?uri=CELEX:52022DC0031.
46    ”European Commission, “EU-China Relations: A Maturing Partnership,” EUR-Lex, September 10, 2003, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/EN/legal-content/summary/eu-china-relations-a-maturing-partnership.html.
47    Ursula von der Leyen, “Speech by the President at the EP Plenary Joint Debate on EU-China Relations,” European Commission, July 7, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/speech_25_1764.
48    “EU Adopts 11th Package of Sanctions against Russia for Its Continued Illegal War against Ukraine,” European Commission, press release, June 22, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_3429.
49    Julia Payne, “EU Adopts New Russia Sanctions Targeting China, Shadow Fleet,” Reuters, December 17, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/eu-adopts-new-russia-sanctions-targeting-china-shadow-fleet-2024-12-16; “EU Adopts 18th Package of Sanctions against Russia,” European Commission, press release, July 17, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1840.
50    “25th EU-China Summit,” European Commission, press release, July 23, 2025, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_25_1901.
51    “Cybersecurity Regulation,” European Commission, March 18, 2022, https://commission.europa.eu/publications/cybersecurity-regulation_en; “New Rules to Boost Cybersecurity of the EU Institutions Enter into Force,” European Commission, press release, January 7, 2024, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_6782; Kelvin Chan, “TikTok Banned from EU Commission Phones over Cybersecurity,” Associated Press, February 23, 2023, https://apnews.com/article/technology-politics-united-states-government-privacy-business-29a52f0eee4177f6c2a596d12459feec.
52    “New Measures Will Increase Transparency to Better Protect European Democracy,” European Commission, December 12, 2023, https://commission.europa.eu/news-and-media/news/new-measures-will-increase-transparency-better-protect-european-democracy-2023-12-12_en; “Documents on Defence of Democracy,” European Commission, December 12, 2023, https://commission.europa.eu/publications/documents-defence-democracy_en.
53    “Communication from the Commission: Implementation of the 5G Cybersecurity Toolbox,” European Commission, June 15, 2023, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/library/communication-commission-implementation-5g-cybersecurity-toolbox; “Commission Announces Next Steps on Cybersecurity of 5G Networks in Complement to Latest Progress Report by Member States”; European Commission, “EU-NATO Task Force: Final Assessment Report on Strengthening Our Resilience and Protection of Critical Infrastructure,” European Commission, press release, June 28, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_3564.
54    ”European Commission, “EU-China Relations: A Maturing Partnership,” EUR-Lex, September 10, 2003, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/EN/legal-content/summary/eu-china-relations-a-maturing-partnership.html.
55    Ramses A. Wessel, “The EU Strategy for Cooperation in the Indo-Pacific,” European Commission and High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, September 16, 2021, https://opil.ouplaw.com/display/10.1093/law-oeeul/law-oeeul-e66.
56    von der Leyen, “Speech by the President at the EP Plenary Joint Debate on EU-China Relations.”
57    European Commission, “EU-New Zealand Trade Agreement Enters into Force, Opening New Opportunities for EU Exporters,” May 1, 2024, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/api/files/document/print/s/ip_24_2388/IP_24_2388_EN.pdf; “EU-Singapore Free Trade Agreement, Investment Protection Agreement and Digital Trade Agreement,” European Commission, May 7, 2025, https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/eu-trade-relationships-country-and-region/countries-and-regions/singapore/eu-singapore-agreements_en.
58    “First EU-India Trade and Technology Council Focused on Deepening Strategic Engagement on Trade and Technology,” European Commission, press release, May 15, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_2728.
59    “Global Gateway: EU and ASEAN Strengthen Their Partnership on Sustainable Connectivity,” European Commission, February 2, 2024, https://international-partnerships.ec.europa.eu/news-and-events/news/global-gateway-eu-and-asean-strengthen-their-partnership-sustainable-connectivity-2024-02-02_en.
60    “CRIMARIO—Critical Maritime Routes Indo-Pacific,” European Commission, August 4, 2022, https://fpi.ec.europa.eu/projects/crimario-critical-maritime-routes-indo-pacific_en.

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The geopolitical trends shaping the EU’s policies on China https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/the-geopolitical-trends-shaping-the-eus-policies-on-china/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=882418 European policies on China are shaped by four major geopolitical trends: intensifying US-China competition, uncertainty about sustained US engagement in Europe and globally, China’s support for Russia’s war on Ukraine, and Beijing’s growing economic and technological challenge to the EU.

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This is the first chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

China’s global ambitions, unfolding in an era of renewed great-power competition, pose significant challenges to the core interests of the United States and its Western allies—and have placed Beijing at the center of the transatlantic economic and security agenda. In the 1990s and early 2000s, the United States, the European Union (EU), and EU member states largely assumed that engagement with China would be mutually beneficial, with economic integration encouraging Beijing to align with the global rules-based order. Over time, that assumption has collapsed. Instead, both the United States and the EU increasingly regard China not just as a competitor but as a strategic rival and systemic challenger—a country determined to promote a model fundamentally at odds with Western principles of liberal democracy and market economy and to reshape the international order in its favor.1

The United States was the first to make this decisive strategic shift. In its 2017 National Security Strategy (NSS), the first Trump administration formally redefined China as a “strategic competitor” and a “once-in-a-generation challenge.”2 The Biden administration reaffirmed this stance in its 2022 NSS, noting that China “harbors the intention, and increasingly, the capacity to reshape the international order in favor of one that tilts the global playing field to its benefit.” Yet the focus on competition with China—and on the strategic importance of Asia—predates both US President Donald Trump and US President Joe Biden. The Obama administration’s “pivot to Asia” had already acknowledged China’s rising economic and strategic significance, with particular attention to the Indo-Pacific region.3

Europe’s recognition of the China challenge came more slowly. For decades, the EU approached Beijing primarily as an economic partner. The first major trade agreement between the EU and China in 1985, the initiation of annual EU-China summits in 1998, and European support for China’s accession to the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 2001 all reflected the belief that trade would encourage cooperation. Even the Tiananmen Square massacre in 1989, which temporarily froze political ties and prompted an arms embargo, did not fundamentally alter the EU’s long-term calculus. It was only in March 2019 that the EU formally adopted a more skeptical stance, describing China as “simultaneously . . . a cooperation partner with whom the EU has closely aligned objectives . . . an economic competitor in the pursuit of technological leadership, and a systemic rival promoting alternative models of governance.”4

The EU’s growing skepticism of China has been driven by a series of shocks and geopolitical trends that have fundamentally reshaped how policymakers in Brussels and across member states view Beijing.5 These trends include:

  • US-China strategic competition;
  • Uncertainty about continued US engagement globally and in Europe;
  • Russia’s war on Ukraine, backed by China; and
  • China’s economic and competitiveness challenges to the EU.

A deeper understanding of these trends—the geopolitical pressures shaping Europe, the continent’s mounting sense of vulnerability, and the strategic responses they generate—can enable US policymakers to tailor outreach, design joint initiatives, and strengthen a unified transatlantic agenda to address the China challenge. Yet US officials often lack sufficient insight into how these dynamics influence EU decision-making. This report aims to bridge that gap.

To that end, it analyzes the four geopolitical trends in detail, assesses their impact on the EU’s and its member-states’ China policies—particularly across trade and investment, technology, and security—and offers recommendations to help US policymakers use this understanding to reinforce transatlantic coordination. After all, the United States can prevail in its strategic competition with China only by working in concert with its allies—especially the EU, Beijing’s second-largest trading partner.

1. US-China strategic competition

China’s expansionist global posture—and the resulting revival of great-power competition in the international system, most clearly manifested in US-China rivalry—has significantly reshaped European thinking about its role in the world. China’s increasingly assertive efforts to shape the international order to accommodate its authoritarian model have put it at odds with the EU and the United States.

This development is, in part, a result of a strategic US effort to integrate China into the international order and encourage liberalization through a long-standing engagement strategy following the end of the Cold War. Successive administrations maintained this approach despite mounting evidence that China was not integrating and was instead emerging as a challenger. By overlooking this reality, the United States facilitated China’s rise, effectively creating a peer competitor for itself and for Europe.

The first US president to recognize the failure of engagement and reframe China as a strategic competitor was Donald Trump during his first term.6 His policy shift reflected a broader bipartisan consensus in Washington to place strategic competition at the center of US grand strategy. Although adopting a different tone and emphasizing coordination with allies, the Biden administration upheld key elements of Trump’s China strategy, including trade restrictions, technology controls, and political and military efforts to counter China’s global influence.7 Although the second Trump administration is expected to continue the balancing strategy initiated during Trump’s first term, it has not yet articulated a clear strategy vis-à-vis China, oscillating between a balancing posture and a cooperative approach aimed at negotiating a “grand deal” with Beijing.

These mixed signals have made it harder for the EU and its member states to align with the United States’ stance on China—or to formulate their own strategy in response. Europe has consistently sought to avoid being drawn into a binary competition between the two superpowers. While recognizing the systemic challenges posed by Beijing’s global ambitions, it seeks to protect both its economic interests and strategic autonomy. However, mounting US-China competition is forcing the EU and European countries to pick a side.

2. Uncertainty over US engagement globally and in Europe

In the 2010s, the United States—the EU’s most important global ally—entered an era of heightened domestic polarization and international retrenchment. The rise of radicalism and populism in both major political parties, along with Trump’s election victories in 2016 and 2024, dramatically reshaped the political landscape. This period saw declining bipartisanship, rising identity politics and personal attacks, and the growing influence of radical and extremist forces.

Internationally, the Obama administration began retrenching the United States from its global leadership role, including reducing its presence and influence in Europe. US President Barack Obama’s strategic “pivot to Asia” signaled that the United States would shift its focus and resources away from Europe and the Middle East toward the Indo-Pacific. The first Trump administration accelerated this retrenchment, weakening US alliances and withdrawing from several multilateral institutions that previous US administrations had helped build after World War II. Europe was particularly affected, as Trump called US security guarantees into question—a concern magnified by the Ukraine war, which further exposed the continent’s dependence on the United States as a security provider.

While the Biden administration sought to restore US global leadership, mend alliances, and strengthen multilateralism, the forces driving retrenchment remain influential among both the US public and political elite, as evidenced by Trump’s second election victory. As a result, European citizens and leaders remain uncertain whether the United States will sustain its global leadership role and its position as guarantor of European security over the long term.

Continuing and accelerating these trends, the second Trump administration has rapidly scaled back US engagement, questioned support for Ukraine, pursued rapprochement with Russia, and imposed tariffs on EU exports. These moves have deepened political, economic, and security rifts between Washington and Brussels, prompting a strategic reassessment in Europe. While the United States eventually signed a trade deal with the EU in July, tensions over EU auto exports and Trump’s openness to engaging with Russian President Vladimir Putin continue to strain relations.

As a result of this transatlantic rift, some European leaders have called for a pragmatic reset and closer engagement with China, while others caution that China’s structural economic and political challenges make any “grand deal” unrealistic. The latter group argues that transatlantic cooperation remains the best path forward. Reflecting this stance, many EU representatives emphasized at the 2025 EU-China Summit that closer ties with Beijing would require China to change its behavior, end unfair trade practices, and cease actions that undermine the EU’s core interests.

3. Russia’s war on Ukraine—backed by China

While uncertainty about US global engagement has shaken Europe’s confidence in having a strong ally and external guarantor of security and the liberal international order, Russia’s war on Ukraine has shattered the European sense of physical security. Moscow’s aggression posed a direct challenge to the Western global order and the values underpinning it—international peace and security, national self-determination, representative government, and fundamental human rights. For Europeans, the war has demonstrated that an aggressor state exists in their immediate neighborhood, threatening democracy, the European way of life, and the continent’s security architecture.

At the same time, Beijing’s support for Russia’s war served as a further wake-up call for European policymakers. After recognizing China as a supporter and enabler of Russian aggression against Ukraine, Europe’s perception of Beijing shifted. European countries began to view China both as a security threat and as a liability in other areas, including critical infrastructure. In this sense, Russia’s war has exposed Europe’s vulnerabilities not only toward Moscow but also toward Beijing, highlighted its limited capabilities in countering its adversaries, and underscored the continued importance of US military assistance for European security.

Initially, the Ukraine war and China’s support for Russia unified the United States and the EU at a level unprecedented since the end of the Cold War. Under the Biden administration, the transatlantic partners supported Ukraine’s fight for independence and territorial integrity and sanctioned both Russia and China. During the first three years of the war, European narratives, attitudes, and policies on China continued to shift significantly—though unevenly across member states and EU institutions—increasingly converging with US approaches and positions.

However, the second Trump administration’s upending of transatlantic relations, combined with its tendency to favor Russia at times in negotiations over the Ukraine war, has created a deep divide between the United States and Europe. European leaders have made significant efforts to bridge this divide and revive transatlantic unity on Ukraine, with some success in the weeks following the August 2025 White House multilateral meeting on Ukraine. Many EU policymakers continue to view Beijing as a systemic rival posing long-term risks to European security and democratic values, while others are more open to strategic engagement, advocating a recalibration of EU-China relations. Nevertheless, from a European perspective, China’s continued support for Russia’s war remains a major obstacle to easing tensions.

4. China’s economic and competitiveness challenges to the EU

A crucial aspect of China’s global expansion has been its economic and technological pressure on the EU and its economic security. The Chinese economy has become more state-driven, with Chinese leaders increasingly disavowing Western liberal values.8 The rapid pace of China’s transformation and its advances in technological capabilities are unprecedented. Unfair business practices, state subsidies, forced or illegal technology transfers, economic coercion, and limited market access have negatively affected the US and EU economies. More recently, China has sought to ease its domestic economic struggles by dumping industrial overcapacity onto the European market and relocating some production to the EU and its periphery, threatening key sectors such as renewable energy and electric vehicles (EVs).9

In response, the European Commission, under President Ursula von der Leyen, has outlined an economic security agenda that goes further than some member states have been willing to embrace.10 Some countries have opposed this strategic shift because their economies are more open and trade-dependent—and therefore more exposed to China, particularly given that China is Europe’s largest source of imports at 21 percent and its third-largest export market at 8 percent. A major sign of the relative success of the Commission’s agenda—and its transatlantic relevance—has been that the terminology of “de-risking” has entered the transatlantic mainstream.

At the same time, the EU has been less aggressive in dealing with China than the United States. While the latter has rolled out more ambitious measures to restrict Chinese access to technology and investment, the EU has expanded its policy toolbox to counter Beijing’s distortive economic practices—through the EU Foreign Subsidies Regulation and its new Anti-Coercion Instrument, for instance—without explicitly identifying Beijing as the target.

Where the Commission has taken action, such as in its anti-subsidy investigation into Chinese EV imports, significant disagreements and pushback have arisen among member states, depending on how severely they are affected. These dynamics frequently leave room for skepticism or misunderstanding among US policymakers regarding the strengths and weaknesses of Europe’s strategies and their implementation.

In his 2024 report on European competitiveness, former President of the European Central Bank Mario Draghi highlighted the urgency of investing between €750 billion and €800 billion annually in innovation, artificial intelligence, and clean energy, while streamlining regulations and advancing a coordinated industrial policy to bolster the EU’s long-term economic resilience and strategic autonomy. Ironically, Europeans continue to rely on Chinese technology in areas where the EU still lags. The most pressing challenge remains the widening gap between policymakers’ security concerns and European industry actors’ vested economic interests in the Chinese market.

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1    Valbona Zeneli, “The Trends Driving Transatlantic Convergence on China,” Diplomat, November 30, 2023, https://thediplomat.com/2023/11/the-trends-driving-transatlantic-convergence-on-china/.
2    The White House. 2017. National Security Strategy of the United States of America. Washington, DC: The White House. https://trumpwhitehouse.archives.gov/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/NSS-Final-12-18-2017-0905.pdf.
3    Hillary Clinton. 2011. “America’s Pacific Century.” Foreign Policy, no. 189 (November): 56–63. https://foreignpolicy.com/2011/10/11/americas-pacific-century/.
4    “EU-China—A Strategic Outlook,” European Union, March 12, 2019, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=JOIN%3A2019%3A5%3AFIN.
5    Zeneli, “The Trends Driving Transatlantic Convergence on China”; Zoltán Fehér, “Xi Jinping Visited Europe to Divide It. What Happens Next Could Determine If He Succeeds,” Atlantic Council, June 1, 2024, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/xi-jinping-visited-europe-to-divide-it-what-happens-next-could-determine-if-he-succeeds/.
6    Zoltán Fehér. “The Rise and Fall of U.S. Engagement toward China,” Fletcher Center for Strategic Studies, August 17, 2020, https://sites.tufts.edu/css/?p=1198.
7    Zoltán Fehér, “Realism, Liberalism, and Strategic Competition: The Grand Strategy of the United States during the Biden Administration,” Foreign Policy Review [Külügyi Szemle—Hungary] 22, 4 (2023), 28–44, https://hiia.hu/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/3-Feher-Zoltan.pdf.
8    Michael Beckley and Hal Brands, “China’s Threat to Global Democracy,” Journal of Democracy, December 2022, https://www.journalofdemocracy.org/chinas-threat-to-global-democracy/.
9    Esther Goreichy, Jacob Gunter, and Grzegorz Stec, “China’s Overcapacity and the EU + German China Policy under Merz + EU-China Trade,” Mercator Institute for China Studies, May 16, 2025, https://merics.org/en/merics-briefs/chinas-overcapacity-and-eu-german-china-policy-under-merz-eu-china-trade.
10    Jörn Fleck, et al., “The ‘De-risk’ Is in the Details: A Look at Europe’s Ambitious New Economic Security Strategy,” Atlantic Council, June 22, 2023, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/experts-react/the-de-risk-is-in-the-details-a-look-at-europes-ambitious-new-economic-security-strategy/.

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France’s policy on China: Strategic autonomy and less naïveté https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/frances-policy-on-china-strategic-autonomy-and-less-naivete/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=882792 Over the last decade, France’s long-standing engagement with China has transformed into a more nuanced and cautious dynamic, reflecting a growing emphasis on balancing. This shift is guided by France’s pursuit of strategic autonomy, its effort to “de-risk” economic and security ties, and the broader geopolitical realities unfolding in the Indo-Pacific.

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This is the fourth chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

Over the past decade, France’s traditionally cooperative ties with China have evolved into a more complex and cautious relationship, as Paris increasingly shifts its policy toward balancing. This recalibration has been driven by France’s doctrine of strategic autonomy, its commitment to “de-risking” in response to Beijing’s distortionary industrial policies, and China’s growing influence in the Indo-Pacific. France initially benefited from booming trade with China—especially between 2005 and 2015, when exports of aerospace, luxury, and agri-food products flourished. In the recent past, however, China’s protectionist and state-driven policies have tilted the relationship sharply against France, eroding what was once a confident economic partnership.

In the technology domain, France’s policy embraces “de-risking, not decoupling,” tightening safeguards and investment screening for critical technologies, infrastructure, and data while preserving selective climate-related cooperation. This approach aligns with the EU’s economic-security agenda, prioritizing joint risk assessments for advanced semiconductors, artificial intelligence (AI), and quantum technologies. Meanwhile, France’s security posture toward China carefully balances engagement with cautious countermeasures, maintaining only limited alignment with the United States. Leveraging its permanent Indo-Pacific presence, France combines expanded naval operations and allied exercises with a structured military-to-military dialogue with Beijing, using inter-staff and theater-level contacts to manage risks, signal deterrence, and uphold the rules-based order. This approach underscores that dialogue complements—rather than undermines—its transatlantic and regional commitments.

France’s China policy and its approach to the EU’s policy on China illustrate a dual-track strategy: nationally, Paris balances engagement with safeguarding competitiveness, while at the EU level it supports de-risking and stronger balancing measures. Growing competitive pressures from China have prompted France to advocate for stricter EU policies on trade, investment screening, strategic technologies, and critical infrastructure.

Diplomatic relations with China have a long history. Paris established ties with the People’s Republic in 1964, following Europe’s lead. In 1973, President Georges Pompidou became the first Western European head of state to visit Beijing during the Cold War. Deng Xiaoping, then first vice premier, reciprocated in 1975 as the first Chinese leader to pay an official visit to a Western European country. In the 1980s, economic, technological, and cultural relations expanded rapidly, highlighted by President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing’s 1980 visit and the signing of multiple cooperation agreements, including in nuclear energy and other technological fields. During President Jacques Chirac’s visit in 1997, France became the first Western country to establish a comprehensive partnership with China.1 In 2004, this agreement was upgraded to a comprehensive strategic partnership, with both countries vowing to work together on “strengthening the multilateral system for collective security” and “deepening bilateral cooperation on major international issues… [to establish] a safer and more stable international environment.”2 During President Xi Jinping’s visit to France in 2014, marking the fiftieth anniversary of diplomatic relations, both sides expressed their intention to steer France-China relations toward “a new era of a close and lasting comprehensive strategic partnership.”3

Lately, however, French policy has steadily shifted toward balancing and de-risking—a trend that accelerated with President Emmanuel Macron’s 2017 election. Macron set out to pursue a more realist policy on China and, in 2019, declared that “the period of European naivety is over” with regard to Chinese investments in the EU.4 At the same time, Macron has sought to continue France’s legacy of open dialogue with China and cooperation on global issues, leveraging France’s historic role as an Indo-Pacific power. High-level diplomacy with Beijing has been sustained, avoiding unnecessarily confrontational language. Macron frames France as a “power of balances” (puissance d’équilibres), centering French and EU China policy around strategic autonomy and asserting independence from the United States.5

Efforts to strengthen the EU’s economic and technological resilience are central to Macron’s balancing agenda—and his advocacy of EU-level policies advanced by Ursula von der Leyen’s Commission has pushed ties onto a more confrontational trajectory.6 At the same time, the tension between engagement and the structural push for de-risking has left allies and partners uncertain about the true direction of France’s China policy.7

Trade and investment: From opportunity to strategic caution

France was an early beneficiary of China’s economic rise, enjoying a surge in exports from the 2000s—particularly between 2005 and 2015—when French aerospace, luxury, agri-food, and industrial goods found a receptive Chinese market. Recent years, however, have brought increasingly distortive Chinese economic practices—market barriers, state subsidies, and forced technology transfers—which have eroded earlier gains and shifted the balance against France. As a result, a once-optimistic commercial outlook in Paris has given way to frustration and strategic caution.

Over the six decades of France-China diplomatic relations, economic ties have deepened tremendously. Bilateral trade has grown eight hundredfold, from $100 million in 1964 to $81.2 billion in 2022. China is France’s fourth-largest trading partner, while France is China’s third-largest trading partner within the EU. China’s primary exports to France include energy components, boilers, electronics, furniture, prefabricated buildings, machinery, commodities, and vehicles.8 Moreover, consumer goods exports—including home appliances and toys—have grown by nearly 30 percent from 2023 to 2024.9

Meanwhile, France remains China’s largest source of agricultural imports within the EU. Pork, dairy, and wine dominate—but cosmetics, luxury goods, and medications are also in high demand. Bilateral trade is heavily imbalanced: Between 2022 and 2023, France’s trade deficit with China increased from €1.1 billion ($1.2 billion) to €2.92 billion ($3.14 billion).10 Investment has also expanded. While 1,100 French companies operated in China in 2019, this number jumped to more than 2,000 by 2023, across sectors including industry, retail, agriculture, transport, financial services, and urban development.11

While France’s bilateral trade and investment with China have been increasing, structural challenges have begun to weigh on economic ties. Paris has pressed Beijing to reduce the country’s massive trade surplus—framing rebalancing as the priority—and has expressed frustration that China fails to adhere to the rules of the international economic order.12 President Macron has criticized China’s unfair trade practices and industrial overcapacity, calling them a global economic concern.13 Similarly, Foreign Minister Jean-Noël Barrot has underscored the need for compliance with international trade rules, highlighting the risks posed by Chinese subsidies—particularly in the electric vehicle (EV) sector.14 Paris remains especially concerned that heavily subsidized EVs could threaten its domestic auto industry.15

This issue has also sparked the latest trade dispute between France and China. Responding to Chinese dumping of EVs on the EU market, the European Commission imposed tariffs on Chinese EV producers. China retaliated by imposing tariffs of almost 40 percent on European brandy imports, specifically targeting French cognac.16 Macron called the move “pure retaliation.17 The dispute was eventually settled after prolonged negotiations in July 2025, shortly before the EU-China Summit.18

Technology: Guarding critical sectors amid selective cooperation

France’s China policy in the technology domain combines “de-risking, not decoupling” with tighter safeguards on critical technologies, infrastructure, and data—while preserving selective cooperation in climate-relevant sectors.19 Paris has strengthened inbound investment screening, permanently lowering the voting rights threshold for listed firms to 10 percent and expanding its scope to include low-carbon energy (including nuclear), photonics, and critical raw materials.20 These measures align with the EU economic-security agenda, prioritizing collective risk assessments for advanced semiconductors, AI, and quantum technologies.21

In telecommunications, France applies a case-by-case authorization regime under the 2019 5G law. While not a blanket ban, time-limited licenses for high-risk vendors—primarily Chinese firms like Huawei and ZTE—will effectively phase them out by 2028.22 Industrial policy has also been recalibrated: the so-called ecological bonus (bonus écologique)—a state subsidy for buying or leasing a new or used electric or hydrogen vehicle—now uses an environmental score that effectively excludes most Chinese EVs. France has also supported EU trade defense actions against Chinese EVs.23

Research security bodies—including the General Directorate for Internal Security and the Secretariat-General for National Defence and Security—have issued guidance and alerts to reduce technology leakage and undue influence in academia and research and development.24 At the same time, civil nuclear cooperation endures: Électricité de France (EDF) and China General Nuclear Power Group cooperate at the Taishan Nuclear Power Plant, in which EDF holds a 30 percent stake—and France and China renewed and deepened their nuclear cooperation in 2023 and 2024.25

Security: Dialogue without dependence

France’s security policy toward China reflects a carefully calibrated equilibrium. It combines strategic autonomy with a measured mix of engagement and balancing, while maintaining only limited alignment with the United States. As French officials noted in interviews for this report, Paris is willing to adopt a firm stance toward China—but on its own terms, not as a result of US pressure.

France’s historical identity as an Indo-Pacific power plays a central role in its security relations with China. On the one hand, Paris envisions an Indo-Pacific that is open, secure, and inclusive—grounded in respect for multilateral cooperation, international law, and sovereignty.26 On the other hand, its emphasis on maintaining dialogue with China reflects a reluctance to engage in what it views as unnecessary confrontation.27 The French government keeps communication channels with China open both to manage coexistence in the Indo-Pacific and because of China’s influence in the Global South, where France maintains an extensive network of relationships with its former colonies. France also seeks to maintain dialogue with China because the two countries share responsibility for international peace and security as permanent members of the UN Security Council and nuclear-armed states.

The Indo-Pacific features so prominently in French security policy that France was the first EU member state to adopt an Indo-Pacific strategy in 2018. Revised in 2025, the strategy rests on the premise that the Indo-Pacific is “a region vital to global prosperity,” yet increasingly tense due to “rivalries between great powers, China’s growing assertiveness, and strong trade tensions.” It maintains that France “is uniquely positioned in the region” as both “a European and Indo-Pacific nation.” The strategy’s four key priorities are:

  1. Strengthening the central role of France’s overseas departments, regions and communities;
  2. Consolidating sovereignty partnerships with Indo-Pacific countries;
  3. Supporting multilateralism and the development of regional organizations; and
  4. Contributing actively to the implementation of the EU Strategy for Cooperation in the Indo-Pacific.28

In the military domain, France sustains a structured yet pragmatic dialogue with China—enabled by its permanent naval presence in the Indo-Pacific. Regular inter-staff consultations, defense-ministry meetings, and communications between theater commands facilitate exchanges on counter-proliferation, dual-use goods, the Ukraine war, and regional security flashpoints such as the South China Sea and Taiwan. Simultaneously, Paris seeks to reassure its transatlantic and Indo-Pacific partners that its dialogue with Beijing is intended to enhance mutual understanding of China’s strategic intentions, not to undermine alliance unity. France frames its military engagement with China as complementary to its broader regional commitments, reflected in multilateral formats such as Track 1.5 dialogues and joint naval task forces (for example, with Japan and the Philippines).

In recent years, France has expanded its naval presence in the Indo-Pacific in line with its Indo-Pacific Strategy and in response to China’s increasingly assertive regional posture. French deployments have included multiple frigate transits through contested waters, freedom-of-navigation operations in the South China Sea, and the Charles de Gaulle carrier strike group’s 2024-2025 Pacific deployment. These operations underscore France’s commitment to the rules-based maritime order and its intent to signal deterrence while avoiding escalation. In this context, maintaining direct military-to-military communication with Beijing has become a vital component of Paris’s risk-management and regional-stabilization strategy.29

Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine—and China’s material and diplomatic support for Moscow—have become key drivers in the hardening of Paris’s China policy. For years, French governments believed that Beijing’s “no limits” partnership gave Xi sufficient leverage to act as a potential mediator with Putin.30 President Macron repeatedly urged China to curb its support for Russia, use its influence to advance a settlement, and restrain North Korean involvement—warning that continued assistance or escalation could trigger broader allied responses beyond Europe.31 Successive Macron cabinets have stressed to Beijing that Russia’s war constitutes a direct assault on Europe’s security and that any actor aiding Moscow represents a grave threat to the European Union.32

France’s alignment with the EUs China policy

France’s China policy—and its approach to the EU’s broader China strategy—illustrate the interaction of EU-level and national policymaking. While France’s national policy seeks to balance engagement with the protection of its economic competitiveness, its stance within the EU strongly supports de-risking and strategic balancing toward China. Rising economic and competitiveness challenges have reinforced France’s backing for the EU’s approach and prompted Paris to press for tougher measures in trade, investment, technology, and critical infrastructure.

In trade, Paris has firmly shifted toward strengthening Europe’s resilience and economic sovereignty, supporting a more assertive EU trade policy within a wider economic-security framework.33 Reflecting this stance, Macron has argued that the EU’s exceptionally open market must be paired with credible defenses of European interests.34 In 2023, France spearheaded a coordinated effort that helped prompt the European Commission to open anti-dumping investigations into subsidized Chinese EV makers.35

In investment, France has led efforts to reduce the EU’s strategic dependence on China and strengthen Europe’s economic autonomy and resilience. Paris has advocated reforming EU competition regulations to grant member states greater leeway to mobilize public investment, while promoting a strong industrial policy aimed at enhancing EU competitiveness in key strategic technologies.36 Regarding Chinese investment in Europe, Macron—ahead of Xi Jinping’s state visit in March 2019—famously declared that “the period of European naivety is over,” emphasizing that “letting Chinese companies buy up EU infrastructure such as ports had been a ‘strategic error.’”37

Regarding technology, Paris has championed the establishment of EU-level economic-security tools—including anti-subsidy measures, foreign investment screening, an anti-coercion instrument, public procurement safeguards, and a 5G Toolbox—to protect European technologies, strategic industries, and critical infrastructure.38 Thanks in part to France’s support and the Commission’s swift implementation, the EU has rolled out all of these instruments in just a few years.

In security, France supports EU efforts to stop China from aiding Russia’s war in Ukraine. It also advocates a stronger European role in Indo-Pacific security and promotes expanded cooperation with Indo-Pacific democracies. France believes these objectives can only be achieved through close coordination and unity among EU member states and institutions on China policy. Macron underscored this conviction by inviting the European Commission president and the German chancellor to join him both times he hosted President Xi in the Élysée Palace—in March 2019 and in May 2024.39

Conclusion

China’s increasing economic and competitiveness challenges to France and the EU have transformed the traditionally cooperative Sino-French relationship over the past decade. France’s China policy still emphasizes engagement on global issues, climate, and military-to-military communication, but its overall stance on trade and investment, technology, and security has gradually shifted toward balancing and de-risking. Since taking office in 2017, President Macron—once an optimist about constructive dialogue with Beijing—has recognized that the balance of power in Sino-French relations has tilted to France’s disadvantage. He has therefore begun to advocate for a more assertive economic-security approach, primarily through EU-level initiatives.

As a result, while France seeks to maintain communication and seeks to avoid direct confrontation with China, it has been one of the staunchest initiators and backers of the von der Leyen Commission’s de-risking agenda. The steady shift toward balancing is likely to persist through the remainder of Macron’s term. However, a potential far-right victory in the 2027 presidential election could upend this trajectory and usher in a more China-friendly stance at the Élysée Palace.

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1    Jinling Zhang, 60 Years of China-France Relations: Extraordinary Friendship and Exemplary Cooperation, (Beijing: Chinese People’s Institute of Foreign Affairs, 2024), https://www.cpifa.org/en/cms/book/402.
2    “China, France Sign Joint Declaration,” Embassy of the People’s Republic of China in the United States of America, January 27, 2004, https://us.china-embassy.gov.cn/eng/zt/twwt/200401/t20040127_4912479.htm.
3    “Xi Says His State Visit to France Has Special Meaning,” Xinhua News Agency, March 28, 2024, https://www.chinadaily.com.cn/world/2014xivisiteu/2014-03/28/content_17387179.htm.
4    Kinling Lo, “EU Leaders Hold out Olive Branch to China over Belt and Road,” South China Morning Post, March 26, 2019, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3003378/eu-leaders-hold-out-olive-branch-chinese-rival-hint-they-are.
5    Francois Godement, “France and China: Making the Best of an Unequal Relationship,” Institut Montaigne, May 7, 2024, https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/france-and-china-making-best-unequal-relationship.
6    Céline Pajon, John Seaman, and Marc Julienne, “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China,” Institut Français Des Relations Internationales, May 6, 2024, https://www.ifri.org/en/external-articles/france-adapts-era-strategic-competition-china.
7    Ibid.
8    Giulia Interesse, “France-China Relations: Trade, Investment, and Recent Developments,” China Briefing, May 15, 2024, https://www.china-briefing.com/news/france-china-relations-trade-investment-and-recent-developments.
9    “China, France to Advance Economic Exchanges with Deepening Cooperation in Emerging Fields amid 60 Years of Diplomatic Ties,” Global Times, May 5, 2024, https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202405/1311668.shtml.
10    Interesse, “France-China Relations.”
11    “China, France to Advance Economic Exchanges”; “France and China,” Ministry for Europe and Foreign Affairs, March 2019, https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/en/country-files/china/france-and-china; Lu Chen and Kelly Wang, “From ‘French Farms to Chinese Tables’: France’s Economy Minister Touts Trade Potential,” Global Neighbours, April 8, 2025, https://www.globalneighbours.org/from-french-farms-to-chinese-tables-frances-economy-minister-touts-trade-potential.
12    “France and China.”
13    “Biden, Macron Seek Joint Response on China Trade after Tensions,” Bloomberg, June 8, 2024, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2024-06-08/biden-macron-seek-joint-response-on-china-trade-after-tensions.
14    Necva Tastan Sevinc, “France Urges China to Respect Trade Rules, Warns against Supporting Russia,” Anadolu Ajansi, July 17, 2025, https://www.aa.com.tr/en/asia-pacific/france-urges-china-to-respect-trade-rules-warns-against-supporting-russia/3633744.
15    Marc Julienne, “Macron’s China Policy: Dropping Illusions and Bringing Back Realpolitik,” Prospect Foundation, May 14, 2024, https://www.pf.org.tw/en/pfen/33-10699.html.
16    Finbarr Bermingham, “China Says EU Brandy Being Dumped on Local Market, but Holds Fire on Duties,” South China Morning Post, August 29, 2024, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3276453/china-says-eu-brandy-being-dumped-local-market-wont-impose-duties-now.
17    “China Says It Is Working with France on Trade Differences, No Sign Yet of a Cognac Deal,” Reuters, June 7, 2025, https://www.asiaone.com/world/china-says-it-working-france-trade-differences-no-sign-yet-cognac-deal.
18    Xiaofei Xu, “Why France Is Toasting China’s New Tariff on European Brandy,” South China Morning Post, July 7, 2025, https://www.scmp.com/economy/china-economy/article/3317176/why-france-toasting-chinas-new-tariff-european-brandy.
19    Michel Rose and Laurie Chen, “Ahead of Xi Meeting, Macron Warns against Shunning China,” Reuters, April 5, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/between-reset-de-risk-eu-leaders-pay-rare-visit-china-2023-04-04.
20    Pascal Bine and Wesley Lainé, “France Strengthens Foreign Investment Controls, Expands Jurisdiction to ‘Commercial Establishments’ Registered in France,” Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom LLP, January 16, 2024, https://www.skadden.com/insights/publications/2024/01/france-strengthens-foreign-investment-control; “Foreign Investment Screening in France—Annual Report 2023,” Ministère de l’Économie, des Finances et de la Souveraineté Industrielle et Numérique, 2023. https://www.tresor.economie.gouv.fr/Articles/c7ec36f3-6df0-4cf8-82aa-9c772917afeb/files/83865cf0-0ecd-4684-badf-3e39fa6bb833.
21    “Commission Recommends Carrying out Risk Assessments on Four Critical Technology Areas: Advanced Semiconductors, Artificial Intelligence, Quantum, Biotechnologies,” European Commission, press release, October 3, 2023, https://defence-industry-space.ec.europa.eu/commission-recommends-carrying-out-risk-assessments-four-critical-technology-areas-advanced-2023-10-03_en.
22    LOI N° 2019-810 Du 1er Août 2019 Visant à Préserver Les Intérêts de La Défense et de La Sécurité Nationale de La France Dans Le Cadre de l’exploitation Des Réseaux Radioélectriques Mobiles (1) (2019) https://www.legifrance.gouv.fr/jorf/id/JORFTEXT000038864094; Mathieu Rosemain and Gwénaëlle Barzic, “Exclusive: French Limits on Huawei 5G Equipment Amount to de Facto Ban by 2028,” Reuters, July 22, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/technology/exclusive-french-limits-on-huawei-5g-equipment-amount-to-de-facto-ban-by-2028-idUSKCN24N26R.
23    “Ecological Bonus: Which New Vehicles Are Eligible?” Service Public, February 9, 2024, https://www.service-public.fr/particuliers/actualites/A17002?lang=en; “France’s Le Maire Welcomes EU Action against Chinese-Made Electric Cars,” Reuters, September 13, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/article/business/frances-le-maire-welcomes-eu-action-against-chinese-made-electric-cars-idUSS8N3A306F.
24    “Conseils aux Entreprises : Flash Ingérence,” Direction Générale de la Sécurité Intérieure, last visited September 14, 2025, https://www.dgsi.interieur.gouv.fr/dgsi-a-vos-cotes/contre-espionnage/conseils-aux-entreprises-flash-ingerence; “Protéger le Débat Public Contre les Ingérences Numériques Étrangères,” Secrétariat Général de la Défense et de la Sécurité Nationale, November 23, 2022, http://www.sgdsn.gouv.fr/nos-missions/proteger/proteger-le-debat-public-contre-les-ingerences-numeriques-etrangeres.
25    “China, France Expand Nuclear Cooperation,” World Nuclear News, April 11, 2023, https://world-nuclear-news.org/articles/china,-france-expand-nuclear-cooperation; “French and Chinese Firms Ink Deals on Sidelines of Xi’s Paris Visit,” Reuters, May 6, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/markets/french-chinese-firms-ink-deals-sidelines-xis-paris-visit-2024-05-06.
26    “France’s Indo-Pacific Strategy 2025,” Ministry for Europe and Foreign Affairs, July 2025, https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/IMG/pdf/france_s_indo-pacific_strategy_2025_cle04bb17.pdf.
27    Pajon, et al., “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China.”
28    “France’s Indo-Pacific Strategy 2025”; “The Indo-Pacific: A Priority for France,” Ministère de l’Europe et des Affaires Étrangères, July 2025, https://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/en/country-files/regional-strategies/indo-pacific/the-indo-pacific-a-priority-for-france/; “EU Indo-Pacific Strategy,” European External Action Service, November 6, 2024, https://www.eeas.europa.eu/eu-indo-pacific-strategy-topic_en.
29    “Annual Report 2024,” French Ministry of the Armed Forces, June 4, 2024, https://www.defense.gouv.fr/sites/default/files/dgris/DGRIS%20annual%20report%202024.pdf; Dzirhan Mahadzir, “French Carrier Charles de Gaulle Wraps First Pacific Deployment,” USNI News, March 7, 2025, https://news.usni.org/2025/03/07/french-carrier-charles-de-gaulle-wraps-first-pacific-deployment.
30    Pajon, et al., “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China.”
31    Marc Julienne, “France’s Emmanuel Macron to Press Xi Jinping on China’s Support of Russia,” Institut Français Des Relations Internationales, May 4, 2023, https://www.ifri.org/en/media-external-article/frances-emmanuel-macron-press-xi-jinping-chinas-support-russia; Shane Croucher, “Macron Wants Bigger Ukraine Role for China,” Newsweek, March 27, 2025, https://www.newsweek.com/macron-wants-chinas-xi-do-more-russia-ukraine-war-2051421; Laura Kayali, “Macron to China: Keep North Korea out of Ukraine War or Risk NATO Coming to Asia,” Politico, May 30, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/macron-china-keep-north-korea-out-ukraine-nato-to-asia; Rory O’Neill, “China Slams Macron over ‘Unacceptable’ Comments on Taiwan and Ukraine,” Politico, May 31, 2025, https://www.politico.eu/article/macron-ukraine-taiwan-china-war-israel-gaza-shangri-la.
32    Sevinc, “France Urges China to Respect Trade Rules, Warns against Supporting Russia.”
33    Pajon, et al., “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China.”
34    Sarah White, et al., “EU and France Press Xi for More Balanced Chinese Trade Ties,” Financial Times, May 6, 2024, https://www.ft.com/content/0728c778-4d5a-4dfc-8694-9c493e82df15.
35    Barbara Moens, et al., “France Puts Screws on EU Chief to Hit Back against Chinese Electric Vehicles,” Politico, September 11, 2023, https://www.politico.eu/article/france-breton-eu-chief-hit-back-against-chinese-electric-vehicles.
36    Pajon, et al., “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China.”
37    Kinling Lo, “EU Leaders Hold out Olive Branch to Chinese ‘Rival’ over Belt and Road,” South China Morning Post, March 26, 2019, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3003378/eu-leaders-hold-out-olive-branch-chinese-rival-hint-they-are.
38    Pajon et al., “France Adapts to an Era of Strategic Competition with China.”
39    Lo, “EU Leaders Hold out Olive Branch to Chinese ‘Rival’ over Belt and Road”; “Macron and von Der Leyen Press China’s Xi on Ukraine and Fair Trade at Paris Summit,” Le Monde, May 6, 2024, https://www.lemonde.fr/en/international/article/2024/05/06/macron-and-von-der-leyen-press-china-s-xi-on-ukraine-and-fair-trade-at-paris-summit_6670576_4.html; White, et al., “EU and France Press Xi for More Balanced Chinese Trade Ties.”

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Navigating the complexity of European policymaking on China https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/navigating-the-complexity-of-european-policymaking-on-china/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=883353 EU policymaking on China is complex not only in structure but also in practice. It unfolds across multiple layers of governance, where EU institutions and member states pursue overlapping—and at times conflicting—priorities, making strategic alignment toward Beijing a persistent challenge.

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This is the second chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

In a well-known anecdote often attributed to Henry Kissinger, the national security advisor allegedly asked, “Who do I call if I want to call Europe?”1 Whether or not Kissinger actually voiced it, the question still resonates today—and reflects the uncertainty faced by outside observers trying to understand EU policies on China, unsure who holds ultimate authority.

EU policymaking on China involves a multilayered process in which institutions and member states pursue overlapping and sometimes conflicting interests. At the EU level, the European Commission, the European Parliament, the European Council, and the European External Action Service (EEAS) play distinct roles in shaping policy. At the same time, member states develop their own national approaches, influencing EU-level decision-making. The result is a complex, often opaque interplay of actors, issues, and interests that collectively shape the EU’s approach to China.

How does the EU’s policymaking process impact its China policy?

Much of the confusion about the EU’s China policy stems from its multilayered and complex decision-making structure. Broadly, China policy operates on two levels: the EU-level and the member state level. Different functional areas are covered by different rules and actors. Trade, for instance, is an exclusive EU competence—led by the Commission—while technological development and energy are shared competences between the EU and member states. Foreign policy and security policy are unique cases because the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) is determined collectively at the EU-level, with member states formulating policy together in the Council by unanimous vote. Non-EU level foreign and security policy, in contrast, is autonomously shaped by individual member states.

At the EU-level, policy on China is formally adopted by the member states in the Council, but historically much of the initiative has come from the European Commission and, to some extent, the European Parliament. The Commission and Parliament are supranational bodies, while the European Council is intergovernmental, giving member states a direct role in shaping policy. In the European Council—the body of EU member state leaders—they agree on general guidelines, while joint actions and common positions are adopted in the Council of the European Union, which is composed of national ministers from each EU country. EU-level China policy thus emerges from the interaction between member states and EU institutions.

The role of EU institutions

EU-level China policy is shaped by the Commission, the European Council, the Parliament, and the EEAS—each exercising distinct functions and degrees of influence. The Commission serves as the EU’s executive, proposing legislation to the Council and Parliament and implementing policies; the Council acts as a co-legislator and sets the CFSP; and the Parliament reviews legislation while exercising democratic oversight.

With regard to China policy, the Commission plays a dominant role by preparing policy proposals, initiating legislation, and implementing policies. Within the CFSP, the Commission formally holds limited competences but has gradually acquired de facto influence, reducing member state veto power.2 It works closely with the EEAS, whose head also serves as Commission vice president. The Commission maintains oversight in key external-policy areas, including aid, development, energy, and trade. In these areas, it influences China policy through its “communications”—high-level policy papers that set EU priorities. Since 2019, under the first Ursula von der Leyen Commission, the EU has shifted from framing Beijing as a partner, competitor, and a systemic rival to emphasizing China as a “systemic rival,” codifying the EU’s “de-risking” in the European Economic Security Strategy.3 The Commission has also leveraged its trade and regulatory powers to advance China-related policy, including instruments such as the Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI), the Foreign Subsidies Regulation (FSR), and the International Procurement Instrument (IPI).4

The Council adopts EU-level official policies on China within the CFSP framework. Comprising the heads of state and governments of each member state, it sets general guidelines, while the Council of Ministers—attended by relevant ministers—agrees on joint actions or common positions. The Council can establish diplomatic relations with China, as in 1975, and conclude agreements such as the 1978 Trade Agreement and the 1985 Trade and Economic Cooperation Agreement.5 Council conclusions are typically declaratory, emphasizing EU values and principles, yet they carry weight due to collective member state authority. In practice, Council and Commission leaders coordinate external initiatives on China closely. They also meet Chinese leaders jointly at the annual EU-China Summit.

The European Parliament functions as a co-legislator and plays both advisory and agenda-setting roles. Members and committees actively debate China policy, publish reports, and issue resolutions. The 2009 Lisbon Treaty further strengthened the Parliament’s role, requiring its approval for major agreements with China—a power that the Parliament exercised when it suspended ratification of the Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (CAI) in 2021.6 It also publishes major policy documents, such as the 2021 EU-China strategy, reports on EU-China relations, and adopts resolutions addressing human rights and other issues.7 The Parliament has maintained quasi-diplomatic relations with China over the past decade. At the same time, it has repeatedly employed tools such as the EU Global Human Rights Sanctions Regime, prompting China to sanction several of its members in 2021.8

Finally, the EEAS serves as the EU’s diplomatic service, coordinating central institutions and external bodies in implementing the CFSP. The High Representative for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy (HR/VP), who appoints EEAS staff and oversees overall foreign policy, coordinates closely with the Commission and Council as Commission vice president and chair of the Council of Foreign Ministers. While the HR/VP represents EU China policy and ensures institutional coordination, the EEAS enacts it. However, both the HR/VP and the EEAS have limited influence over the policy’s formulation.

The role of the member states

The role of EU member states in shaping China policy is twofold. First, they participate in the Council, where they set the direction of EU-level policy. It should be noted, however, that the influence of member states varies significantly, and the Commission often plays an outsized role in steering policymaking. Second, each member state also formulates its own national policy on China.

As the Council formulates not only the CFSP but is also acts as a co-legislator on other policies and strategies related to China (e.g. economic security instruments), member states can shape policy decisions through the participation of their heads of state and government, as well as through the various configurations of the Council of the European Union, including the Foreign Affairs Council, the Economic and Financial Council, and the Competitiveness Council. Once member states formulate CFSP policies in the Council, they are obliged to implement them, and their national policies must align with EU positions.

At the same time, EU member states retain broad autonomy in developing their own bilateral policies toward China, despite the existence of the CFSP and the EU’s exclusive competence over trade. This autonomy allows states to declare strategic partnerships, sign agreements, or conclude memoranda of understanding with China on a wide range of issues, from education and culture to investment to security. A striking example is Hungary’s 2024 security cooperation agreement with China, which allows Chinese police officers to patrol on Hungarian territory.9

Member states thus influence EU China policy both through their bilateral engagements with Beijing and through their decision-making on EU-level policy in the Council. Because member states’ preferences and priorities differ widely, reflecting divergent national interests, formulating a coherent and unified EU-level policy on China is highly complex. In practice, even after agreeing on common policies in the Council, some member states pursue actions that contradict EU-level decisions.

Differences among EU member states

Much of the ambiguity in EU policy on China arises from its multilayered and complex decision-making structure. EU institutions seek unity, but national governments often have divergent priorities, making coherence difficult. National approaches depend on the depth of bilateral relationships with China, the scale of economic and technological dependencies, tensions between business communities, leadership attitudes, and public opinion toward China. Together, these factors produce varied national policies that range from openness and engagement to strategic caution and restriction. The EU, meanwhile, tries to balance these positions by recognizing interdependence with China while managing strategic risks.

Intensity of European relationships with China

Broadly speaking, EU member states fall into three categories in terms of their relationships with China. The first group includes economic powerhouses such as Germany, France, Italy, and others, which have built long-term, multidimensional partnerships with China encompassing trade, diplomacy, and cultural exchange. Many of these countries—for instance, Germany and France, have export-oriented economies and are especially sensitive to issues of market access in China. Their industrial competitiveness depends heavily on sectors such as automation, machinery, and chemicals, which are deeply integrated into Chinese supply chains and consumer markets.

Naturally, this group dominates European trade with China—with Germany alone accounting for roughly 35 percent—and has greater influence than others in shaping the EU’s overall China policy. Six member states—Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, France, Spain, and Poland—together represent around 75 percent of total EU-China trade.10 Chinese investment in the EU is equally concentrated: since 2000, the United Kingdom ($92 billion), Germany ($38 billion), France ($26 billion), the Netherlands ($20 billion), and Italy ($16 billion) together have attracted 66 percent of cumulative Chinese foreign direct investment (FDI) in the EU.11

This pattern reflects Beijing’s long-term objective of embedding itself in Europe’s advanced research and development networks. To advance its “Made in China 2025” strategy, Beijing has sought to acquire strategically important companies in Western Europe.12 The concentration of Chinese FDI highlights how a select group of member states serves as the primary conduit for Europe’s engagement with China—and vice versa—shaping not only the EU’s opportunities but also its vulnerabilities.

Concerned about Chinese acquisitions—mainly state-owned enterprises—in February 2017, the economy ministers of Germany, France, and Italy jointly urged then-EU Trade Commissioner Cecilia Malmström to establish an EU-wide mechanism for screening foreign investments.13 They warned that European expertise was at risk of being sold off without adequate safeguards to protect strategic technologies and infrastructure. Their appeal followed the takeover of the German robotics firm KUKA—one of Europe’s most advanced technological companies—by China’s Midea Group. France joined the appeal because it reflected its tradition of protecting strategic sectors, while Italy worried about Chinese incursions into its energy and transport industries following a surge of Chinese takeovers after the financial crisis. This push marked a turning point, as major EU economies pressed Brussels to balance open markets with security concerns, laying the groundwork for the EU’s 2019 investment-screening regulation and
today’s broader debate on economic security and sovereignty. However, even among these three countries, policies have been inconsistent, as their governments have oscillated between openness and caution. Italy abstained from voting on the screening mechanism in 2019 and, around the same time, signed onto China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). Germany likewise failed to coordinate effectively to block Chinese investment in the port of Hamburg.

The second group comprises countries whose ties with China have deepened markedly in recent years, particularly in Central and Eastern Europe. Hungary—and the candidate country Serbia—are the most prominent cases. Their relationships with Beijing have developed primarily under the “16+1” framework (later “17+1”, now “14+1”), launched by China in 2012 to strengthen its engagement with new EU member states and candidate countries in the Western Balkans. Several of these states have since upgraded their bilateral relationship with Beijing to strategic partnerships and joined the BRI. In the past two years, Hungary has emerged as the predominant destination for Chinese FDI in Europe, particularly in electric-vehicle and battery manufacturing. In 2024, Hungary alone absorbed nearly 31 percent of all Chinese FDI in the EU and the United Kingdom.14

Beijing’s cooperation with certain countries in regional frameworks such as 16+1 has raised concerns in the EU that, by acquiring strategic assets, China has gained political influence, strengthened its bargaining position vis-à-vis Brussels, and expanded its capacity to “divide and rule” the continent—weakening the EU’s ability to speak with one voice. Evidence suggests that in countries where Chinese presence is more pronounced, foreign policy choices have tended to align with Beijing, often opposing common EU positions on issues ranging from human rights to the South China Sea. For example, in April 2018, Hungary stood out as the only EU member state to refuse endorsement of a report critical of Beijing’s BRI. Similarly, Greece—which joined the 16+1 framework in 2019—together with Hungary and Croatia, diverged from the European consensus in 2016 by blocking the EU from endorsing the Permanent Court of Arbitration’s ruling in favor of the Philippines in its case against China’s maritime claims in the South China Sea.15 Moreover, Athens later vetoed an EU statement on China’s human rights record, dismissing it as “unconstructive criticism of China”.16

Countries in these first two groups are heavily reliant on raw materials and technology supply chains—from semiconductors to rare earth elements and green technologies. These dependencies create structural asymmetries, such as those related to Chinese solar panels and batteries, which directly affect Europe’s energy transition policies. In addition, some states remain vulnerable due to dependencies in critical infrastructure, notably their continued reliance on Chinese firms like Huawei for telecommunications networks.

The third group of countries includes EU member states with limited engagement—those with weaker economic and political links to China, such as the Nordic and Baltic states. With minimal trade and economic ties to Beijing, these countries tend to pursue values-based policies that emphasize human rights and security concerns, often aligning closely with US positions. Twelve EU member states in this group—including Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Croatia, Cyprus, and Slovenia—account for less than five percent of the EU’s total trade with China.

Business interests, public attitudes, and domestic politics

Domestic political dynamics, including the interplay between business interests, leadership styles, and public opinion, further shape EU member states’ approaches to China. The business community—particularly in EU countries with large trade and economic dependencies on China—often lobbies for stable and pragmatic relations with Beijing to safeguard market access and supply chains. This frequently conflicts with public policy actors, who increasingly emphasize security concerns (especially after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the “no-limits” partnership between China and Russia), human rights issues (for instance, in Hong Kong and in relation to the treatment of Uyghurs in Xinjiang,) and resilience against strategic dependencies (especially after the COVID-19 pandemic). In some cases, governments have tightened screening mechanisms for Chinese investment even as companies sought to expand partnerships and joint ventures in China, creating friction between business elites and policymakers.

Similarly, national leadership styles and political cultures also strongly influence approaches. French leaders, for instance, often frame China policy in terms of strategic autonomy and global competition. German leaders, by contrast, traditionally emphasized “Wandel durch Handel”— change through trade—but have shifted toward de-risking in recent years. In countries where skepticism toward authoritarian regimes is high (for example, in the Baltic states and the Czech Republic), governments often adopt tougher stances, whereas public opinion in other countries remains more ambivalent, especially when economic benefits are at stake. Moreover, populist or nationalist administrations, such as Hungary’s Orbán government, sometimes instrumentalize relations with China as a counterweight to Brussels.

Just as European governments differ in their political approaches to Beijing, public attitudes toward China are far from uniform. These variations often mirror differences in economic exposure and security concerns, complicating efforts to forge a coherent EU China strategy. Recent polls suggest that many Europeans view China as a “necessary partner” (39 percent), rather than an ally (4 percent) or an adversary (26 percent). However, Southern Europeans generally hold more favorable views, reflecting perceived economic benefits, while Northern Europeans remain more skeptical, shaped by cautionary lessons on interdependence. Eastern Europeans, by contrast, express the strongest concern over Beijing’s deepening ties with Moscow.17

Conclusion

When it comes to the complexity of European political and policymaking processes on China, two conclusions stand out. First, EU policymaking on China is complex not only in appearance but also in practice. Since both EU institutions and member states are involved, contradictions naturally emerge. While national governments pursue their own interests, EU-level policies are designed to reflect the bloc’s broader geopolitical stance. Second, although member states pursue their own bilateral China policies, their influence still shapes EU-level approaches, which evolve through constant interaction between EU institutions and member state representatives.

The European Commission, at the heart of the EU’s institutional framework, has played a pivotal role in shaping EU China policy for decades, working closely with the European Council, the European Parliament, and the EEAS. The Parliament, strengthened by the Lisbon Treaty, has become increasingly influential—a development that is reflected by its rejection of the CAI and its continued push for a tougher line on human rights. Contrary to assumptions of constant disunity, the EU institutions have generally agreed on the overall direction of China policy. The more persistent divergence lies between EU-level consensus and the China policies of individual member states.

Divergent national interests, economic dependencies, and political orientations among EU member states add another layer of complexity to the EU’s collective approach on China. Major economies such as Germany, France, and Italy maintain deep economic engagement with China but also promote regulatory measures to protect strategic sectors. In contrast, many Central and Eastern European countries—most notably Hungary—favor closer political and economic ties with Beijing, raising concerns that China may exploit these internal divisions within the EU. Meanwhile, smaller states with limited links to Beijing, particularly in the Baltics and in Northern Europe, tend to support approaches centered on security and shared values. These differences are further intensified by domestic tensions between business communities, which seek stable market access, and policymakers, who often prioritize resilience, human rights, and security.

Taken together, these dynamics highlight that the EU’s approach to China is not monolithic but instead reflects a patchwork of national interests that Brussels must continually reconcile. This reality makes achieving coherence and unity a constant challenge in EU policymaking on China.

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1    Vanessa Gera, “Kissinger Says Calling Europe Quote Not Likely His,” Associated Press, June 27, 2012, https://www.yahoo.com/news/kissinger-says-calling-europe-quote-not-likely-145223724.html.
2    Akasemi Newsome and Marianne Riddervold, “The Role of EU Institutions in the Design of EU Foreign and Security Policies,” in The Routledge Handbook of European Security Law and Policy (London: Routledge, 2019), 55.
3    “EU-China—A Strategic Outlook,” European Commission, March 12, 2019, https://commission.europa.eu/system/files/2019-03/communication-eu-china-a-strategic-outlook.pdf; “Joint Communication to the European Parliament, the European Council, and the Council on European Economic Security Strategy,” European Union, June 20, 2023, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/ALL/?uri=JOIN:2023:20:FIN.
4    “New Tool to Enable EU to Withstand Economic Coercion Enters into Force,” European Commission, press release, December 26, 2023, https://ec.europa.eu/commission/presscorner/detail/en/ip_23_6804; “Foreign Subsidies Regulation,” European Commission, July 12, 2023, https://competition-policy.ec.europa.eu/foreign-subsidies-regulation_en; “International Public Procurement Instrument,” European Commission, last visited September 5, 2025, https://trade.ec.europa.eu/access-to-markets/en/content/international-public-procurement-instrument.
5    “Trade Agreement between the European Economic Community and the People’ s Republic of China,” European Commission, May 2, 1978, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=celex:21978A0403%2801%29; “Agreement on Trade and Economic Cooperation between the European Economic Community and the People’s Republic of China,” European Union, September 19, 1985, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/agree_internation/1985/2616/oj/eng.
6    “EU-China Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (EU-China CAI),” European Parliament, June 20, 2025, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/legislative-train/theme-a-global-europe-leveraging-our-power-and-partnerships/file-eu-china-investment-agreement.
7    Ibid.; “European Parliament Recommendation of 13 December 2023 to the Council and the Vice-President of the Commission/High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy Concerning EU-China Relations,” European Parliament, 2023, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/doceo/document/TA-9-2023-0469_EN.html.
8    Unai Gómez-Hernández, “European Parliament Elections Will Set the Tone for EU-China Relations,” China Observers in Central and Eastern Europe, April 12, 2024, https://chinaobservers.eu/european-parliament-elections-will-set-the-tone-for-eu-china-relations.
9    Liz Lee and Ryan Woo, “In Unusual Move, China Offers to Back Hungary in Security Matters,” World, Reuters, February 20, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/world/unusual-move-china-offers-back-hungary-security-matters-2024-02-19.
10    Authors’ calculations based on Trading Economics data. Last visited August 24, 2025.
11    Statistics include the United Kingdom when it was still an EU member, but not since 2016. Agatha Kratz, et al., “Chinese Investment Rebounds Despite Growing Frictions: Chinese FDI in Europe: 2024 Update,” Mercator Institute for China Studies and Rhodium Group, May 21, 2025, https://merics.org/en/report/chinese-investment-rebounds-despite-growing-frictions-chinese-fdi-europe-2024-update.
12    Valbona Zeneli, “China and Europe” in Scott D. McDonald and Michael C. Burgoyne, eds., “China’s Global Influence: Perspectives and Recommendations,” Daniel K. Inouye Asia-Pacific Center for Security Studies, 2019, https://dkiapcss.edu/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/8-China_and_Europe-Zeneli.pdf.
13    Gisela Grieger, “Foreign Direct Investment Screening: A Debate in Light of China-EU FDI Flows,” European Parliamentary Research Service, May 2017, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/BRIE/2017/603941/EPRS_BRI(2017)603941_EN.pdf.
14    Kratz, et al., “Chinese Investment Rebounds Despite Growing Frictions: Chinese FDI in Europe.”
15    Robin Emmott, “EU’s Statement on South China Sea Reflects Divisions,” Reuters, July 15, 2016, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-southchinasea-ruling-eu-idUSKCN0ZV1TS.
16    Robin Emmott and Angeliki Koutantou, “Greece Blocks EU Statement on China Human Rights at UN,” Reuters, June 18, 2017, https://www.reuters.com/article/world/greece-blocks-eu-statement-on-china-human-rights-at-un-idUSKBN1990FP.
17    Jana Puglierin, Arturo Varvelli, and Pawel Zerka, “Transatlantic Twilight: European Public Opinion and the Long Shadow of Trump,” European Council on Foreign Relations, February 12, 2025, https://ecfr.eu/publication/transatlantic-twilight-european-public-opinion-and-the-long-shadow-of-trump/#the-china-conundrum.

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Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/is-europe-waking-up-to-the-china-challenge-how-geopolitics-are-reshaping-eu-and-transatlantic-strategy/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=880143 China’s rising global ambitions challenge both US and European interests. By examining the EU’s gradual shift toward “de-risking” and gaps in transatlantic policy, this report offers insights for developing a more coherent and coordinated strategy to address Beijing’s economic and security challenges.

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China’s ever-expanding global ambitions, unfolding amid renewed great power competition, pose a significant challenge to the strategic and economic interests of the United States and its European allies. Addressing these challenges will require strong and consistent transatlantic alignment and coordination—from countering Beijing’s unfair economic practices to confronting its assertive security posture.

Such alignment, however, has often been uneven. While the United States identified China as its primary strategic competitor and shifted from engagement to balancing as early as 2017, the European Union (EU) approach has evolved more slowly and inconsistently. This report explores the structural and political roots of that inconsistency—and offers guidance on how US policymakers can use these insights to foster unified transatlantic action.

In doing so, it traces the policy trajectories of individual member states, assesses the role of EU institutions in shaping China policy, and examines four key geopolitical trends that have nudged the EU toward a gradual move from engagement to balancing and “de-risking” vis-à-vis Beijing. Although significant differences persist between the United States and the EU in their broader trade posture, the findings indicate that Europe is increasingly waking up to the China challenge—and that the EU’s shifting stance could lay the groundwork for a more coherent, durable transatlantic strategy toward China.

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Acknowledgements

This report is the culmination of a year-long research project made possible through the generous support of the Smith Richardson Foundation.

The authors would like to express their gratitude to numerous individuals at the Atlantic Council for their hard work and dedication to the project, including:

  • Melanie Hart, senior director, Global China Hub
  • Samantha Wong, assistant director, Global China Hub
  • Jörn Fleck, senior director, Europe Center
  • James Batchik, associate director, Europe Center
  • Emma Nix, assistant director, Europe Center

The authors would also like to thank Jeff Fleischer, Daniel Malloy, Andrea Ratiu, and Kai Schnier for their editorial and digital assistance.

The project drew on the insights of numerous policymakers, experts, and scholars who participated in interviews and roundtables hosted by partner institutions, including the European Policy Centre in Brussels, the Institut Montaigne in Paris, the Equilibrium Institute in Budapest, the Institute for International Political Studies in Milan, and the Mercator Institute for China Studies in Berlin. Their contributions significantly informed the analysis presented here.

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The Global China Hub tracks Beijing’s actions and their global impacts, assessing China’s rise from multiple angles and identifying emerging China policy challenges. The Hub leverages its network of China experts around the world to generate actionable recommendations for policymakers in Washington and beyond.

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Poland’s policy on China: From partnership to skepticism https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/polands-policy-on-china-from-partnership-to-skepticism/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=883361 Despite its traditionally transatlantic orientation, Poland pursued an engagement policy toward China until the late 2010s. However, unmet economic promises and Beijing’s alignment with Moscow following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine shifted Warsaw’s view of China from economic partner to systemic challenger.

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This is the eighth chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

Poland has traditionally anchored its foreign policy in the transatlantic alliance, yet since the early 2000s, it also sought to expand economic engagement with China. By the late 2010s, however, Warsaw recognized that this approach had yielded few tangible returns. Polish exports gained little market access, and Chinese investment remained limited. From 2019 onward, Polish policy gradually hardened, aligning with the European Union’s (EU) own shift toward a hawkish stance on China. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and Beijing’s support for Moscow further accelerated Poland’s reassessment, reinforcing its alignment with the United States while exposing the absence of a coherent China strategy. President Andrzej Duda continued to advocate for selective economic cooperation with Beijing, albeit with limited results. Meanwhile, Warsaw’s application of investment-screening mechanisms and its response to US efforts to exclude Huawei and other Chinese firms from 5G networks remained cautious. At the EU level, Poland opposed the Comprehensive Agreement on Investment (CAI) and endorsed the Union’s emerging economic-security and “de-risking” agenda.

During the Cold War, as a Soviet bloc country, Poland’s ties with China fluctuated according to Sino-Soviet relations. Poland recognized the People’s Republic of China (PRC) shortly after its founding in October 1949, and diplomatic relations were established. Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai visited Poland twice, and several Polish leaders paid visits to China in the 1950s, signaling friendly relations. Following the Sino-Soviet split in the 1960s, the relationship between Poland and China significantly cooled. In the 1980s, however, Polish-Chinese ties were revived: Polish President and Communist Party leader Wojciech Jaruzelski visited Beijing in 1986, and China’s Premier and General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) Zhao Ziyang reciprocated with a visit to Poland the following year. As with other former Soviet bloc countries that were now shaping their own external relations after decades of Soviet control, Poland turned its foreign policy toward Euro-Atlantic partners as well as EU and NATO membership. Consequently, its relationship with China remained limited and largely inactive during the first post-Cold War decade.

Poland’s relations with China intensified significantly in the early 2000s. At the time, the country saw great economic opportunity in closer ties with Beijing and followed an engagement strategy pursued by most North American and European countries after the Cold War. During Hu Jintao’s state visit to Poland in 2004, the two countries signed an agreement to establish “a friendly and cooperative partnership,” a formal designation emphasizing economic cooperation. In 2011, China upgraded its ties with Poland to a “strategic partnership,” reflecting Poland’s broader political and economic significance.1 In 2012, Poland became a founding member of the Cooperation between China and Central and Eastern European Countries (initially the “14+1”, later the “16+1” format).

Throughout most of the 2010s, Polish policy on China remained cooperative. As a result of its earlier engagement posture, Poland continued to view Beijing primarily as an economic partner, avoiding confrontation and prioritizing opportunities for trade and investment. For the same reason, Poland largely stayed out of EU-level debates on China, focusing instead on bilateral engagement.

However, Poland’s policy toward China began shifting in 2019, driven by three factors: intensifying US-China strategic competition, Russia’s war on Ukraine (backed by China), and China’s growing economic challenge to the EU. These developments pushed Poland to adopt a firmer stance and align with the EU’s increasingly assertive China policy. After 2019, leaders of the two countries did not conduct mutual visits for several years, exchanging only phone calls and occasional meetings on the margins of international gatherings. By the end of the COVID-19 pandemic, the relationship had deteriorated further, as China’s pandemic policies, diverging interests, and trade imbalances effectively froze progress.2

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 made matters worse, pushing the bilateral relationship into crisis. As Poland focused on responding to Russia’s aggression, China’s support for Moscow deepened Warsaw’s mistrust. Even after the 2023 elections, in which the centrist Civic Coalition (KO) defeated the conservative-populist Law and Justice Party (PiS), Poland’s wariness of Beijing remained unchanged.

Still, Poland did not sever its economic ties with China. Instead, during the period of political cohabitation between 2023 and 2025, it adopted a dual-track approach: Donald Tusk’s KO-led government emphasized economic and national-security resilience, while President Duda of PiS pursued continued diplomatic and trade engagement. While this division of labor highlighted the lack of a coherent, unified China strategy, it also signaled that Polish leaders were increasingly recognizing that the country’s engagement approach had not yielded the results they had hoped for. Polish markets had not expanded, and the risks to both domestic companies and the broader EU economy had increased. Consequently, Poland began actively contributing to EU policy on China, supporting the European Commission’s tougher approach and its “de-risking” strategy.3

As of 2025, while the Tusk government’s commitment to balancing and de-risking is clear, the position of Poland’s new President Karol Nawrocki (PiS) remains uncertain. Nawrocki’s foreign policy combines transatlanticism, Euroskepticism, and a sovereignty-first approach. His alignment with US President Donald Trump and the MAGA movement may further complicate his China policy, given that the second Trump administration has not yet settled on a consistent strategy, oscillating between engagement and balancing. Nevertheless, his September 2025 meeting with Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi suggests he may preserve elements of Duda’s engagement approach.4

Trade and investment: Lost illusions

Successive Polish governments, regardless of their ideological leanings, have pursued a cooperative strategy toward China in hopes of gaining economic benefits. Yet Poland remains one of the EU countries least dependent on China for trade and investment. Exports to China account for just 0.57 percent of gross domestic product and 1.03 percent of total exports.5 Still, Warsaw is Beijing’s top trading partner in Central and Eastern Europe, while Beijing ranks as Warsaw’s second-largest trading partner in the region, after Germany. The relationship, however, is highly imbalanced. In 2024, China exported €34.3 billion in goods to Poland, while Poland exported only €3.3 billion to China—creating a nearly €31 billion trade deficit. This was the EU’s largest deficit with China after the Netherlands and Italy, and the tenth largest globally. Poland’s exports to China are concentrated in copper, electronic equipment, optical instruments, machinery, vehicles, wood, charcoal, and nuclear reactors and boilers.6

Agriculture has been one of the sectors most eager for closer ties with China, hoping to secure access to the Chinese market. However, Polish agriculture has struggled to benefit from the China trade relationship. To make matters worse, Beijing’s new food security law, adopted in mid-2024, further complicated conditions for Polish producers.7

Chinese investment in Poland has remained modest, totaling only €2.5 billion between 2000 and 2024.8 Nonetheless, Warsaw has increasingly come to recognize that Chinese investments are a potential vulnerability. Poland was among the first EU countries to join the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), and its strategic role in the initiative is underscored by the fact that nine out of ten China-Europe Railway Express trains either transit through Poland or terminate there.9 Over the past two decades, Poland has sought to develop its own economic security toolkit. It adopted the Act on Competition and Consumer Protection in 2007, the Act on the Control of Certain Investments in 2015, and the Polish Competition Authority’s foreign investment screening mechanism in 2020. Implementation, however, has lagged. In 2017, the Polish Competition Authority approved the planned acquisition of Konsalnet, a leading Polish security firm, by China Security & Fire—only for the Beijing headquarters to halt the deal due to the company’s financial troubles. In 2021, the Polish regulator also investigated Changjiu Logistics’ investment in transportation company Adampol S.A, but found no violations, allowing the transaction to proceed. Although both investments involved potential risks to Poland’s national and economic security, the responses by the authorities and the public were limited, suggesting significant gaps in the country’s ability to manage such risks.10

Technology: De-risking in telecommunications

Poland’s stance on China in technological matters has also shifted considerably over the years. In telecommunications, Chinese companies Huawei and ZTE once played a prominent role in Poland’s economy. Between 2006 and 2019, Huawei helped build Poland’s 2G and 3G networks, leaving the telecommunications heavily reliant on Chinese technology and systems.11 However, such cooperation has unraveled in recent years.

In 2019, Poland arrested a high-level Chinese Huawei employee, charging him with espionage on behalf of China. The individual had worked with Huawei for eight years and previously served at the Chinese Consulate, and he was charged alongside a Polish man who had previously worked for Polish security services. The scandal placed Huawei and 5G on the agenda as potential vulnerabilities in Polish critical infrastructure. As the first Trump administration pressured allies to exclude Huawei from their 5G networks, this issue became central to negotiations between the United States and Poland. During Vice President Mike Pence’s visit to Poland in September 2019, the two countries signed an agreement on 5G cooperation, which established criteria for vetting telecom equipment suppliers based on security risks. In August 2020, they concluded the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement, strengthening US-Polish defense cooperation and increasing US military presence in Poland—a development that would not have been possible without alignment on 5G.12

Guided by US initiatives and the EU’s 5G Toolbox, Poland decided to ban Huawei and ZTE from the country in 2020—a move that Huawei protested by sending a complaint to EU Competition Commissioner Margrethe Vestager.13 Despite the ban, Poland allowed the companies to maintain limited operations while diversifying its telecommunications market. In recent years, Warsaw has repeatedly considered legislation to phase out Huawei’s and ZTE’s equipment from its telecommunications sector, most recently in October 2024—and the Polish parliament ultimately adopted an amendment to the National Cybersecurity Certification Act, implementing the EU’s NIS2 Directive on the security of network and information systems.14 The amendment introduced a new certification system for telecommunications companies operating in critical sectors, potentially designating some firms as high-risk suppliers and requiring them to replace previously provided hardware or software.15

Security: The Ukraine war and hardening threat perceptions

In the security domain, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, China’s support for Moscow, and intensifying US-China strategic competition have heavily influenced Poland’s approach to China. Poland’s steadfast support for Ukraine and its advocacy for transatlantic unity against Moscow have shaped both its Russia and China policies. Leaders from both major political camps have consistently urged China to help end the war and halt economic and military support for Vladimir Putin’s regime.

In 2023, Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki (PiS) highlighted Poland’s policy shift in a speech at the Atlantic Council. He warned that European countries incur “a huge geopolitical cost” when selling goods to China, and that China and Russia obtain Western technology to eventually use it against the West. He also urged allies and partners to support Ukraine to protect the status quo in Taiwan, asserting that “if Ukraine gets conquered, the next day, China can attack Taiwan.”16 Beijing immediately protested the prime minister’s statements.17

The current Civic Platform-led government has continued this approach. During Chinese Foreign Minister Wan Yi’s visit to Poland in September 2025, Foreign Minister Radosław Sikorski “called on China to step up diplomatic efforts to end the fighting in Ukraine” and “urged China to cease its exports of dual-use products to Moscow, including drones and navigation equipment.” Sikorski added, “without Beijing’s help, Russia’s economy would have collapsed by now.”18

Poland has also faced security concerns over Chinese involvement in its port infrastructure. A subsidiary of Hong Kong-based CK Hutchison, Hutchison Port Holdings, had leased a terminal in Gdynia since 2007. By 2024, the lease raised alarms due to its proximity to a dock where the United States and NATO unload military aid for Ukraine. At parliament’s urging, the Polish government eventually designated Gdynia port as critical infrastructure and required reporting on its operations. In an unexpected turn, the national security issue surrounding the port has since moved toward resolution. Encouraged by Trump, the US investment fund BlackRock purchased a majority share in the ports operating in the Panama Canal from Hutchison, with the deal also including equity in other ports, such as Gdynia, potentially bringing them under US ownership. However, the deal is still in flux, both because China has refused to approve it and because the Panamanian government has asked the Supreme Court to annul Hutchison’s previous contract for procedural flaws.19

Overall, Poland’s position has become more consciously aligned with the United States, centered on robust defense cooperation, while pursuing a measured disengagement from China in response to Beijing’s continued support for Russia’s war effort.20

Poland’s alignment with the EU’s China policy

In the past six years, while China’s competitiveness has posed increasing challenges for the EU, Poland’s positions on China have hardened across key domains. During this period, Poland has increasingly recognized the interconnectedness of its bilateral and EU-level relations with China. Consequently, Polish governments of various ideological compositions have sought to participate more actively in EU policy debates, and Poland’s positions on EU China policy have evolved accordingly.

Poland has weighed in on the EU’s CAI with China. When the European Commission concluded negotiations with China on the agreement in December 2020, its failure to submit a draft to the Committee of Permanent Representatives—the body that prepares the Council of the EU’s work—prompted criticism from several member states, including Poland. To clarify Poland’s position, Foreign Minister Zbigniew Rau stated that the EU should pursue a mutually beneficial agreement with China and allow time to consult with the United States to find common ground on the CAI. Warsaw’s concerns included the deal’s implications for both Poland and the EU, as well as potential consequences for the United States. US National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan echoed this view, noting that “the Biden-Harris administration would welcome early consultations with our European partners on our common concerns about China’s economic practices.” Facing pressure from EU member states, the European Parliament, and the United States, the CAI eventually collapsed.21

In recent years, Poland has recognized that China’s economic and competitiveness challenges cannot be effectively addressed solely at the bilateral level. EU-level policy must be strengthened to protect the Polish economy from China’s unfair practices and coercion. Polish policymakers acknowledge that, while many EU member states continue to emphasize bilateral engagement with China, the scale of asymmetry makes it impractical for any single state to manage Beijing’s challenges alone—underscoring the increasing need for collective, EU-level responses.22 As a result, the Polish government supported the Commission’s adoption of the European Economic Security Strategy in 2023 and has consistently backed its de-risking measures. Poland also voted in favor of the Commission’s proposal for the EU to impose tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles under the Foreign Subsidies Instrument in March 2025, arguing that Chinese state subsidies distort fair competition and create vulnerabilities in strategic industries.

Conclusion

Despite its traditionally transatlantic orientation and firm opposition to Russia, Poland maintained an engagement policy toward China from the early post-Communist transition until the late 2010s. For much of this period, Warsaw viewed China primarily through an economic lens: policymakers and business groups anticipated that greater Chinese market access would boost Polish agricultural and industrial exports, while Chinese capital inflows were expected to support domestic investment. These expectations gradually eroded in the 2010s, as China failed to provide substantive trade concessions or investment opportunities. At the same time, Russia’s increasingly aggressive behavior heightened Poland’s sense of strategic vulnerability.

The combination of unmet economic promises and Beijing’s alignment with Moscow following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine reshaped elite perceptions of China, framing it as a systemic challenge rather than an economic opportunity. In response, Poland has undertaken a pronounced policy adjustment—supporting EU-level instruments under the Economic Security Strategy and developing domestic mechanisms to enhance resilience against China-related economic and strategic risks. Although partisan polarization continues to complicate consensus on China policy, Warsaw’s overall trajectory now reflects a deliberate and measured shift toward balancing and de-risking vis-à-vis Beijing.

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The Europe Center promotes leadership, strategies, and analysis to ensure a strong, ambitious, and forward-looking transatlantic relationship.

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2    Marcin Przychodniak, “The Rough ‘Strategic Relationship’ Between Poland and China,” China Observers in Central and Eastern Europe, January 25, 2021, https://chinaobservers.eu/the-rough-strategic-relationship-between-poland-and-china.
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13    Laurens Cerulus, “Huawei Challenges Legality of 5G Bans in Poland, Romania,” Politico, November 2, 2020, https://www.politico.eu/article/huawei-hints-at-legal-action-against-5g-bans-in-poland-romania.
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15    “New Polish Act on the National Cybersecurity Certification System and Its Key Assumptions,” Clifford Chance, August 5, 2025, https://www.cliffordchance.com/content/cliffordchance/briefings/2025/08/new-polish-act-on-the-national-cybersecurity-certification-syste.html; “Implementation of the Cybersecurity Directive (NIS2) in Poland,” Dentons, August 28, 2025, https://www.dentons.com/en/insights/newsletters/2025/august/8/powered-by-dentons/powered-by-dentons-august-2025/implementation-of-the-cybersecurity-directive-nis2-in-poland; “NIS2 Directive: Securing Network and Information Systems,” European Commission, December 2022, https://digital-strategy.ec.europa.eu/en/policies/nis2-directive.
16    Katherine Golden, “Poland’s Prime Minister: Western Europe Needs to Commit to Ukrainian Victory and Beware of China,” Atlantic Council, April 14, 2023, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/polands-prime-minister-western-europe-needs-to-commit-to-ukrainian-victory-and-beware-of-china.
17    “China Accuses Poland of Meddling in Its Affairs after PM’s Taiwan Comments,” Reuters, April 14, 2023, https://www.reuters.com/world/china-accuses-poland-meddling-its-affairs-after-pms-taiwan-comments-2023-04-14/.
18    Natalia Ojewska, “Poland’s Sikorski Urges China to Help Secure Peace in Ukraine,” Bloomberg, April 23, 2025, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2025-04-23/poland-s-sikorski-urges-china-to-help-secure-peace-in-ukraine.
19    Jeremy Van der Haegen and Wojciech Kość, “Chinese Presence in a Polish Port Triggers Security Fears,” Politico, April 3, 2024, https://www.politico.eu/article/hong-kong-based-chinese-company-presence-polish-port-creates-security-worries-nato/; Elida Moreno, “CK Hutchison-Operated Panama Ports Could Be Taken over by State Partnerships, President Says,” Reuters, July 31, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/business/retail-consumer/ck-hutchison-operated-panama-ports-could-be-taken-over-by-state-partnerships-2025-07-31/; Arjun Neil Alim, Cheng Leng, and Chan Ho-Him, “Panama Ports Deal Will Not Close This Year, Warns CK Hutchison,” Financial Times, August 14, 2025, https://www.ft.com/content/8d5badf4-7b54-4094-8c26-ace5e9aca8f2.
20    “Poland’s Strategic Convergence with the United States and Managed Detachment from China.”
21    “Poland-China Relations in 2021”; Przychodniak, “The Rough ‘Strategic Relationship’ Between Poland and China”; Stuart Lau, “On Brink of China-EU Deal, Fresh Pressure Hits from US and Poland,” South China Morning Post, December 23, 2020, https://www.scmp.com/news/china/diplomacy/article/3115087/brink-china-eu-investment-deal-eleventh-hour-pressure-comes.
22    Bachulska, “Multi-Pole-Arity.”

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Convergence and divergence in US and EU policies on China https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/convergence-and-divergence-in-us-and-eu-policies-on-china/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=884104 Where have US and EU polices on China drifted apart—and where do they converge? Identifying areas of conflict and alignment can help decision-makers on both sides of the Atlantic develop strategies to strengthen cooperation and more effectively counter China’s political and economic influence.

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This is the thirteenth chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

Table of contents

While the United States and Europe were largely aligned in their approach toward China during the late Cold War and early post-Cold War years, the European Union (EU) has fallen behind the US shift from engagement to balancing. Although its policy toward Beijing has evolved considerably since 2019—and especially since 2023—moving steadily toward a firmer stance on China, the EU’s adjustment has been slower and more incremental. At the same time, persistent frictions between Brussels and successive US administrations over issues such as trade policy and Ukraine have complicated coordination.

Meanwhile, China’s increasingly assertive behavior—including unfair trade practices, support for Russia’s war in Ukraine, coercion in the Indo-Pacific, and efforts to reshape the international order along authoritarian lines—highlights the growing need for transatlantic action. If Europe and the United States want to effectively counter Beijing’s political influence and economic expansion, they will need to cultivate common policy principles—particularly in key domains such as trade and investment, technology, and security. Mapping existing areas of policy divergence and convergence can help decision-makers on both sides of the Atlantic strengthen cooperation.

Trade and investment

Technology

Security

About the author

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The Global China Hub tracks Beijing’s actions and their global impacts, assessing China’s rise from multiple angles and identifying emerging China policy challenges. The Hub leverages its network of China experts around the world to generate actionable recommendations for policymakers in Washington and beyond.

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Lithuania’s policy on China: An unlikely EU trailblazer https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/lithuanias-policy-on-china-an-unlikely-eu-trailblazer/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=881558 Lithuania’s defiance of Chinese pressure has made it a policy innovator in the EU, showing how a small state can strengthen collective resilience. Its firm stance on Taiwan and push for European unity have anchored the EU’s shift toward de-risking and closer transatlantic coordination.

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This is the tenth chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

Lithuania, though a small EU member state, has played an outsized role in shaping the European Union’s (EU) approach to China. Over the past three decades, its relations with Beijing have shifted dramatically—from early economic engagement to growing skepticism toward Chinese involvement in Europe, as exemplified by the “16+1” format and the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). This growing alienation culminated in a diplomatic confrontation in 2021, sparked by Vilnius’s decision to let Taiwan open a representative office in the country. China’s retaliatory economic coercion reverberated across Europe, galvanizing the EU to confront Beijing more directly and reassess its China policy.

Today, Lithuania ranks among the most China-skeptical EU member states, viewing Beijing as a systemic rival and aligning with the US administration and Brussels in resisting its political influence and economic pressure. By standing firm in its partnership with Taiwan amid a broad Chinese intimidation campaign, Vilnius has not only safeguarded its sovereignty but also catalyzed a broader EU policy shift on China—turning its stance into a test of European resilience. In doing so, Lithuania drew on its experience countering another great power, Russia, from which it gradually disentangled itself after the collapse of the Soviet Union and again following Moscow’s annexation of Crimea in 2014. This enabled Vilnius to manage China’s coercion and deepen ties with like-minded partners in the Indo-Pacific, such as Japan and Australia.

Trade and investment: Vilnius sounds the alarm

Established in 1991, relations between Vilnius and Beijing were pragmatic, centered on trade and cultural exchange. In the early 2000s, Lithuania’s trade with China was negligible and imbalanced, with exports of $2 million versus $120 million in imports. As China’s presence in Europe grew and Lithuania integrated into EU supply chains, bilateral trade increased by 533 percent, from $122 million in 2001 to $760 million in 2023 (see Figure 1). In the aftermath of the 2008 global financial crisis, Lithuania viewed China as potential source of growth and investment, leading it to join the “16+1” initiative in 2012, a cooperation platform established by China that brought together Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao and leaders from sixteen Central and Eastern European (CEE) countries.1 Functioning also as a regional extension of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), the “16+1” format allowed China to engage with CEE states outside the formal structures of the EU—a strategy that raised concerns in Brussels but was welcomed by participating governments as a potential avenue for economic opportunity.

Yet trade relations revealed persistent asymmetry. Between 2012 and 2024, China’s trade with CEE states grew from $64 billion to $167 billion, but deficits widened from $46 billion to $135 billion.2 The bulk of trade was concentrated in Poland, the Czech Republic, and Hungary, accounting collectively for nearly 70 percent of total exchanges—$113 billion in 2024. Lithuania’s share remained marginal, at $2.26 billion in 2024 (1.35 percent of total trade), with a $1.82 billion trade deficit. Similarly, Chinese foreign direct investment (FDI) in Lithuania remained minimal, totaling less than $100 million since the early 2000s.3 The promised benefits of the “16+1” format—and later the “17+1” format, after Greece joined in 2019—never materialized. Instead, Vilnius increasingly viewed the platform as a vehicle for Chinese influence and a means to fragment EU unity.

In May 2021, Lithuania became the first EU member to withdraw from the “17+1” platform on the grounds of limited economic benefits and mounting political concerns. Vilnius called the initiative “divisive” and advocated for a “27+1” approach, in which all EU members engage with China collectively. The decision coincided with the European Parliament’s vote to freeze ratification on the EU-China Comprehensive Agreement on Investment. Later that year, in November 2021, the opening of a Taiwanese representative office in Vilnius4—the first in Europe to use “Taiwanese” rather than “Taipei” in its name—triggered a major diplomatic rupture. Beijing interpreted the decision as a direct offence, recalled its ambassador, and pressured Lithuania to do the same, although Vilnius and the EU emphasized that the step did not violate the “One China” policy.5 In December 2021, all Lithuanian embassy staff left Beijing after their diplomatic status was revoked—a move that many media outlets described as an “evacuation,” raising concerns over possible violations of both the Vienna Convention and Lithuanian law.6

In addition, Beijing retaliated with informal trade restrictions, blocking Lithuanian goods, halting freight trains, and targeting EU supply chains that included Lithuanian components.7 Although Lithuania’s direct exposure was limited—less than 1 percent of its exports and 4 percent of its imports—Beijing’s coercion had broader implications. It demonstrated how China can weaponize even modest economic ties for political leverage and exposed vulnerabilities across the EU, fueling debates about economic security. In response, Brussels launched a World Trade Organization (WTO) case and advanced the Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI) to deter politically motivated trade measures, signaling a more assertive EU stance in defending sovereignty and reinforcing credibility.8 The ACI entered into force in December 2023 but has not yet been used.9

The United States stepped in, expressing strong support for Lithuania in the face of political pressure and economic coercion from China,10 extending a $600 million export credit through the US Export-Import Bank to boost trade in high-tech, services, and renewable energy.11 Transatlantic solidarity was reinforced in a joint-statement by thirteen foreign affairs committee chairs from eleven European legislatures, backed by the US Senate, condemning China’s pressure. The Biden administration also dispatched a special eight-person State Department team, informally known as “the firm,” to help Lithuania diversify markets and mitigate supply chain disruptions.12 These efforts enabled Lithuania to reorient its trade, with exports to the Indo-Pacific rising 60 percent in early 2022—effectively quadrupling the value of its former exports to China.

The crisis also marked Lithuania’s exit from China’s BRI, with rail services discontinued and proposals regarding Chinese investment into the Klaipėda port rejected by Lithuanian leaders on security grounds.13 Ultimately, Lithuania’s experience highlighted the risks of dependency and underscored a broader European shift: from viewing China as an economic partner to framing it as a systemic rival, testing the EU’s unity and resilience.

Technology: Phasing out Huawei

In 2018, Lithuania aligned with security concerns raised by the first Trump administration and restricted Huawei’s involvement in its 5G network development, especially in militarily sensitive installations, becoming one of the first EU member states to heed US warnings.14 This stance was formalized in September 2020 through a memorandum of understanding with the United States on secure 5G network development,15 after which Vilnius began phasing out Huawei equipment as a matter of national security and allied sovereignty. This positioned Lithuania as a frontrunner within the EU in taking concrete policy measures and implementing restrictions on Chinese technology. In late 2020, Telia Lietuva, the country’s largest telecom operator, announced it would replace Huawei 4G equipment with Ericsson equipment for its 5G rollout.16 Huawei was also excluded from military-sensitive infrastructure. By July 2025, the company’s market share in Lithuania had fallen to just 2.47 percent of the mobile vendor market—exceptionally low compared with its share in other European countries.17

Security: Beijing and Moscow are testing Baltic resolve

Lithuania’s security relationship with China has been marked by mistrust, shaped by Vilnius’s alignment with the West and particularly US security concerns over Beijing’s assertive behavior. In 2019, Lithuania became one of the first states to identify China as a national security threat in its National Threat Assessment, citing espionage and political interference alongside risks tied to technological dependence. The assessment highlighted that these risks extended beyond traditional issues such as Taiwan and human rights and included Chinese interference in Lithuania’s political landscape. That same year, Vilnius also embraced the EU’s framing of China as a “systemic rival.”

These concerns led to a series of restrictive measures bridging national and economic security: excluding Huawei and other Chinese firms from 5G networks, tightening scrutiny of Chinese investment in critical infrastructure, and banning Chinese remote access to renewable energy systems.18 Lithuania had already adopted its own FDI screening mechanism in 2018, two years before an EU framework was introduced.19 In 2024, the legislation was expanded to include cybersecurity. Today, Lithuania’s regulatory framework remains among the strictest in Europe, prioritizing national security alongside commercial considerations and reflecting Vilnius’s acute sensitivity to external influence and geopolitical vulnerabilities.

On this basis, Lithuania withdrew from the “17+1” initiative in 2021 and co-signed, with thirteen other countries, a joint EU statement criticizing China’s conduct during the COVID-19 pandemic, questioning the transparency of the World Health Organization’s investigation into the origins of the virus. Vilnius also supported Taiwan’s observer status at the World Health Assembly20—and the Lithuanian parliament adopted a resolution condemning China for the genocide against Uyghur Muslims in Xinjiang. Beijing retaliated with trade restrictions, including suspending Lithuanian wheat imports.21 That same year, the government authorized the opening of a Taiwanese representative office in Vilnius, prompting sweeping Chinese coercion and further embedding Lithuania’s security-driven, values-based foreign policy within a transatlantic framework.

Russia’s 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine deepened these concerns, as Vilnius viewed the Sino-Russian “no limits” partnership as tacit support for Moscow’s aggression and a direct threat to NATO’s eastern flank. Lithuania increasingly framed China as an enabler of Russian aggression, underscoring the need for coordinated transatlantic policies.22 Beijing, in turn, depicted Lithuania as a US puppet and “the most anti-Russia country in Europe,”23 rhetoric used to justify countermeasures.24 Tensions escalated further in April 2023 when China’s ambassador to France questioned the sovereignty of the Baltic states, claiming that countries which emerged after the Soviet Union’s collapse “do not have effective status under international law,” provoking strong EU backlash.25

Within the broader US-China strategic rivalry, Lithuania has firmly aligned with the United States, reinforcing its credibility within NATO and the EU while leveraging the dispute to deepen cooperation with the US administration on economic security. Importantly, Lithuania’s tougher stance on China predates the center-right government of former Prime Minister Ingrida Šimonytė (2020-2024). In fact, the initial shift toward a more defiant posture began in 2013 when President Dalia Grybauskaitė met with the Dalai Lama, prompting punitive actions from Beijing, and continued under Saulius Skvernelis’s center-left government (2016-2020). Today, Prime Minister Gintautas Paluckas signals cautious diplomacy with China while maintaining firm commitments to security and democratic standards.26

Lithuania’s alignment with the EU’s China policy

Lithuania aligns closely with both the EU and the United States in framing China as a “systemic rival” and a “coercive power.” Standing firm on Taiwan and refusing to yield to economic pressure, it has emerged as a leading voice for a tougher and more coordinated China approach—and as a frontrunner in shaping the EU’s collective response, pushing for de-risking measures and the adoption of anti-coercion legislation. Its confrontation with China not only strengthened ties with the United States, where its principled stance drew political and economic support, but also reverberated across the EU. Beijing’s coercion against Lithuania exposed vulnerabilities even among member states with minimal ties to China, accelerating Brussels’ shift toward de-risking, supply chain diversification, and greater collective resilience.

The Lithuanian case became a test of EU unity at a pivotal moment for European security. Brussels condemned Beijing’s sanctions, backed Vilnius through WTO proceedings, and fast-tracked the adoption of the ACI—an instrument that had already been in development during the first Trump administration—sending a clear signal that no member state, however small, would face external pressure alone and reinforcing the EU’s credibility as a collective geopolitical actor.

Although relations with Beijing remain strained, Vilnius continues to champion Taiwan’s international participation and to push EU initiatives on economic security. For Lithuania, its China policy is now defined less by trade considerations and more by the imperatives of European unity and transatlantic coordination. What began as a bilateral dispute has evolved into a catalyst for stronger EU cohesion, turning Lithuania from an outlier into a trailblazer in Europe’s evolving approach to China.

Conclusion

Lithuania’s case provides a litmus test of whether a small liberal democracy can withstand Chinese economic coercion, with its dispute with Beijing reverberating throughout the EU-China relationship. By elevating the Taiwan issue and pushing Beijing higher on the EU agenda, Vilnius has accelerated Brussels’ shift from a trade-centered engagement to a more defensive posture, including the adoption of new anti-coercion instruments. Its experience reflects broader European concerns over dependence on China—from Huawei involvement to BRI projects to Chinese investment—and has prompted a wider reassessment of China as a systemic rival. In the process, Lithuania has positioned itself as both an early adopter of US security priorities and a policy influencer within the EU, amplifying transatlantic coordination at moments when larger member states hesitated.

As one of the EU’s most uncompromising voices on China, Vilnius has framed the challenge from Beijing alongside the threat from Moscow, presenting both as pillars of an authoritarian bloc. Lithuania’s alignment with the United States and the broader transatlantic community draws on its historical experience with authoritarian coercion and its acute sense of vulnerability. Politically, Vilnius casts itself as a values-driven actor. While the United States identifies China as its top security adversary, and Brussels seeks a more calibrated balance, Lithuania has helped bridge the gap by advancing US priorities within the EU, serving simultaneously as a driver of transatlantic coordination and as a moral compass in Europe’s evolving China debate.

About the authors

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The Global China Hub tracks Beijing’s actions and their global impacts, assessing China’s rise from multiple angles and identifying emerging China policy challenges. The Hub leverages its network of China experts around the world to generate actionable recommendations for policymakers in Washington and beyond.

The Europe Center promotes leadership, strategies, and analysis to ensure a strong, ambitious, and forward-looking transatlantic relationship.

1    Valbona Zeneli, “What Has China Accomplished in Central and Eastern Europe?” Diplomat, November 25, 2017, https://thediplomat.com/2017/11/what-has-china-accomplished-in-central-and-eastern-europe/.
2    Calculation of the author based on Trading Economics data.
3    Agatha Kratz, et al., “Chinese Investment Rebounds Despite Growing Frictions—Chinese FDI in Europe: 2024 Update,” Mercator Institute for China Studies and Rhodium Group, May 21, 2025, https://merics.org/en/report/chinese-investment-rebounds-despite-growing-frictions-chinese-fdi-europe-2024-update.
4    “Taiwan Opens Office in Lithuania, Brushing Aside China Opposition,” Reuters, November 18, 2021, https://www.reuters.com/world/china/taiwan-opens-office-lithuania-brushing-aside-china-opposition-2021-11-18/.
5    John Feng, “‘Crazy, Tiny Country’: China Media Lashes out at Lithuania over Taiwan,” Newsweek, August 10, 2021, https://www.newsweek.com/crazy-tiny-country-china-media-lashes-out-lithuania-over-taiwan-embassy-1617921.
6    “Lithuania Evacuates its Embassy in China,” Economist, December 18, 2021, https://www.economist.com/china/lithuania-evacuates-its-embassy-in-china/21806843.
7    “WT/DS610—China: Measures Concerning Trade in Goods and Services,” European Commission, last visited October 9, 2025, https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/enforcement-and-protection/dispute-settlement/wto-dispute-settlement/wto-disputes-cases-involving-eu/wtds610-china-measures-concerning-trade-goods-and-services_en.
8    The anti-coercion instrument is a set of countermeasures agreed by the European Commission, national governments, and European Parliament in order to retaliate against third countries imposing economic pressure on EU member states.
9    “Protecting Against Coercion,” European Commission, last visited October 9, 2025, https://policy.trade.ec.europa.eu/enforcement-and-protection/protecting-against-coercion_en.
10    “Senior U.S. Official to Visit Lithuania in Show of Support over Chinese ‘Coercion,’” Reuters, January 28, 2022, https://www.reuters.com/world/senior-us-official-visit-lithuania-show-support-over-chinese-coercion-2022-01-29/.
11    “EXIM Delegation Meets with Lithuania’s Ministry of Economy and Innovation,” Export-Import Bank of the United States, press release, January 31, 2022, https://www.exim.gov/news/exim-delegation-meets-lithuanias-ministry-economy-and-innovation.
12    Didi Tang, “China Has Threatened Trade With Some Countries After Feuds. They’re Calling ‘The Firm’ for Help.” Associated Press, May 27, 2024. https://apnews.com/article/china-trade-economic-firm-state-department-42655e067386a20b22f1317ce298f334.
13    Justas Karčiauskas, “Lithuania External Relations Briefing: Growing Geopolitical Rift Between China and the EU,” China-CEE Institute, November 2023, https://china-cee.eu/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/2023er11_Lithuania.pdf.
14    Ivana Karásková, et al., “Huawei in Central and Eastern Europe: Trends and Forecast,” Association for International Affairs, January 2021, https://chinaobservers.eu/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/briefing-paper_huawei_A4_03_web-1.pdf.
15    “United States-Republic of Lithuania Memorandum of Understanding on 5G Security,” US Department of State, press release, September 17, 2020, https://2017-2021.state.gov/united-states-republic-of-lithuania-memorandum-of-understanding-on-5g-security/.
16    “Telia to Remove All Huawei Equipment in Lithuania,” Reuters, November 30, 2020, https://www.reuters.com/article/business/telia-to-remove-all-huawei-equipment-in-lithuania-idUSKBN28A1KZ/.
17    “Mobile Vendor Market Share in Lithuania—July 2025,” StatCounter GlobalStats, last visited October 9, 2025, https://gs.statcounter.com/vendor-market-share/mobile/lithuania.
18    Patrick Jowett, “Lithuania Bans Chinese Remote Access to Energy Storage, Solar, Wind Devices,” ESS News, November 20, 2024, https://www.ess-news.com/2024/11/20/lithuania-bans-chinese-remote-access-to-energy-storage-solar-wind-devices/.
19    “Lithuania: FDI Screening: Situation and Tendencies,” BNT Attorneys in CEE, September 18, 2024, https://bnt.eu/news-and-events/lithuania-fdi-screening-situation-and-tendencies/.
20    Eunika Rejtová, “Chinese Media Watch: How ‘Crazy, Tiny’ Lithuania Enraged Beijing,” Central European Institute of Asian Studies, August 29, 2021, https://ceias.eu/chinese-media-watch-how-crazy-tiny-lithuania-enraged-beijing/.
21    Konstantinas Andrijauskas, “The Sino-Lithuanian Crisis: Going Beyond the Taiwanese Representative Office Issue,” Institut Français des Relations Internationales, March 8, 2022, https://www.ifri.org/en/memos/sino-lithuanian-crisis-going-beyond-taiwanese-representative-office-issue.
22    Denis Kishinevsky, “Why Little Lithuania Is Taking On Mighty China,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, November 29, 2021, https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2021/11/why-little-lithuania-is-taking-on-mighty-china?lang=en.
23    Ieva Zvinakyte, “Cannon Fodder and ‘US Puppets: What Is Chinese Propaganda Saying about Lithuania?” LRT English, December 14, 2022, https://www.lrt.lt/en/news-in-english/19/1589153/cannon-fodder-and-us-puppets-what-is-chinese-propaganda-saying-about-lithuani.
24    “China, Russia Can Cooperate to Punish Lithuania,” Global Times, August 11, 2021, https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202108/1231251.shtml.
25    “Chinese Envoy to France’s Remarks on Ex Soviet States Provoke Outrage in Europe,” Le Monde, April 24, 2023, https://www.lemonde.fr/en/international/article/2023/04/24/chinese-ambassador-s-remarks-on-crimea-provoke-outrage-in-europe_6024027_4.html.
26    “If China Has Plans in EU, It’ll Be Interested in Having Relations with Lithuania Too—PM,” Baltic Times, April 15, 2025, https://www.baltictimes.com/if_china_has_plans_in_eu__it_ll_be_interested_in_having_relations_with_lithuania_too_-_pm/.

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How Europe deals with China in trade, technology, and security https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/how-europe-deals-with-china-in-trade-technology-and-security/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=884162 The EU’s approach to China is increasingly converging around “de-risking,” though progress remains uneven. While powerful member states set the overall direction, smaller ones drive change—and outliers slow collective action. Whether the EU can turn this patchwork into a unified strategy will define its China policy in the years ahead.

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This is the twelfth chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

After several decades of trying to build a cooperative trade and political relationship with China, the EU came to recognize that this engagement strategy delivered limited economic gains while creating political tensions that ran counter to its own values and objectives. By 2019, optimism had given way to a new perception of China as partner, competitor, and systemic rival. This threefold framing—contradictory in theory but politically useful in practice—created enough ambiguity and common ground to allow maneuvering among member states with divergent priorities. At the same time, it provided a platform for a broader debate about Europe’s China policy.

Countries such as Greece, Italy, Portugal, and Hungary, which received significant Chinese investment in the aftermath of the Eurozone crisis, were able to proceed cautiously, avoiding confrontational language that could have had negative economic consequences. By contrast, northern and Baltic states favored a tougher approach, emphasizing the systemic-rival framing. France and Germany were internally divided but ultimately supported the EU policy, with France leaning toward a tougher line on trade and sovereignty and Germany under Chancellor Angela Merkel continuing to prioritize engagement. The European Council’s delayed endorsement of the triptych of cooperation, economic competition, and systemic rivalry in June 2023—four years after the European Commission had introduced this framing—highlighted Europe’s initial reluctance to acknowledge problems in EU-China economic relations. Ultimately, however, member states paved the way for gradual convergence on a common China policy.1 By 2023, the EU recognized that the risks of engaging with China had begun to outweigh the benefits.

Because the EU is not a unitary actor, its China policy reflects the diverse relationships, preferences, vulnerabilities, and strategic cultures of its member states. Case studies of Germany, France, Italy, Greece, Hungary, Poland, Lithuania, and the Czech Republic underscore the complexity of EU-China relations and demonstrate how national trajectories shape or constrain Brussels’ evolving China strategy. France and Germany serve as the EU’s strategic anchors, with Paris emphasizing sovereignty and resilience and Berlin shifting from economic primacy toward a more strategic-industrial approach. Italy and Greece exemplify cautious strategic recalibration: once open to Chinese investment and the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), both now cautiously align with Brussels while preserving economic ties with Beijing. Meanwhile, Poland has moved from economic pragmatism to security awareness as limited trade benefits and Beijing’s alignment with Moscow eroded earlier optimism; the Czech Republic maintains a values-based approach, combining minimal trade exposure with one of the EU’s strictest investment-screening regimes; and Lithuania has emerged as a catalyst, translating bilateral confrontation into EU-wide resilience and transatlantic coordination. Hungary, by contrast, continues to act as a spoiler, deepening ties with Beijing and using its veto power to undermine EU unity.

Trade and investment: Between open markets and strategic control

Although trade and investment form the backbone of Europe’s relationship with China, they are also a principal source of friction. At the EU level, the tendency to favor “de-risking, not decoupling” may be too soft an approach to secure desirable trade flows while reducing strategic dependencies. Although this approach has spurred the rollout of the EU’s investment-screening mechanism, initiated anti-subsidy investigations into Chinese electric vehicles (EVs) and solar panels, and resulted in the freezing of the Comprehensive Agreement on Investment, it remains unclear whether these measures will suffice to counter Chinese influence.

Germany has historically been the most influential actor in shaping the EU’s China policy, especially in trade, and its globalization-driven economy—long tied to China in automobiles, machinery, and chemicals—faced the highest potential gains and risks. Under Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Berlin has abandoned partnership language and aligned more closely with Brussels’ emphasis on rivalry and critical-infrastructure protection. However, divisions within the German business sector continue to complicate policy coherence, and Merz has yet to demonstrate through action his intent to advance the EU’s agenda. Meanwhile, France has consistently pushed for stronger EU trade defenses and long advocated an assertive industrial policy to counter China’s overcapacity. Under President Emmanuel Macron, Paris pressed the European Commission to launch anti-dumping investigations into Chinese EVs in 2023.

Italy’s China stance has shifted from opportunistic engagement to closer EU alignment. Its decision to join the BRI in 2019 was emblematic of its short-term, partisan-driven policymaking aimed at quick economic gains. By December 2023, however, Rome withdrew from the BRI and strengthened its “golden power” rules, signaling broad skepticism toward China and Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s commitment to transatlantic cooperation—while still seeking to preserve economic opportunities. Similarly, Greece’s trajectory is one of gradual adjustment. In the aftermath of its debt crisis, Athens relied heavily on Chinese capital, most prominently through China COSCO Shipping Corporation Limited’s ownership of the port of Piraeus. Since 2020, diversification of foreign direct investment (FDI) and pressure from the EU and the United States have tempered Athens’ dependence on Beijing. Greece’s adoption of the EU’s FDI-screening mechanism, combined with its abstention from EU tariffs on Chinese EVs in October 2024, illustrates its hedging strategy.

Lithuania presents a strikingly different case. With little bilateral trade at stake, Vilnius has taken one of the EU’s toughest stances on China, portraying it as a coercive power and systemic rival. Its confrontation with Beijing over Taiwan in 2021 triggered Chinese retaliation but also accelerated Brussels’ adoption of the Anti-Coercion Instrument. Lithuania thus transformed a bilateral dispute into a catalyst for EU-wide resilience, reframing trade and investment policy as a question of collective security rather than purely economics.

For years, Poland prioritized economic ties with China over national security, even though—as elsewhere in Europe—trade and investment flows never fully materialized, leaving Warsaw with a significant trade deficit. However, China’s support for Russia’s war in Ukraine has eroded Warsaw’s desire for partnership. By 2020, Poland was ahead of the EU curve in creating an FDI-screening mechanism, though implementation has lagged. Meanwhile, the Czech Republic has maintained a values‑driven, security‑first approach to China. Rather than chasing short-term economic gains, Prague has developed one of the region’s most robust economic‑security frameworks, anchored by the 2021 Foreign Investment Screening Act.

Hungary stands alone in its defiance of EU norms, having consistently courted Chinese trade and investment while resisting EU restrictions. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has denounced EU tariffs as an “economic cold war”—and Budapest’s willingness to openly align with Beijing has provided China with an important foothold within the EU.

Technology: Building resilience in the digital era

Technology has emerged as the sharpest arena of competition with China, encompassing 5G infrastructure, semiconductors, artificial intelligence, and dual-use goods. The EU response includes the 5G toolbox, tighter export controls, and coordination with the United States on technology governance, though the pace and scope of implementation vary widely across member states.

As in other sectors, Germany displays ambivalence toward China in technology. While its Foreign Trade and Payments Act—together with its implementing regulation, the Foreign Trade and Payments Ordinance—provides one of Europe’s strictest foreign-investment screening regimes, with a broad scope of sectors covered and low thresholds for review, implementation has at times lagged behind its rhetoric. Berlin was slow to curb Huawei and ZTE’s role in 5G networks, prioritizing industrial competitiveness and cost concerns. Only in July 2024 did the German government announce a full phase-out, aligning with EU and NATO partners. France, by contrast, has been the EU’s leading driver in technology policy, framing digital resilience as both an economic concern and a geopolitical imperative. Paris has consistently pressed for stronger protection of European innovation, critical infrastructure, and strategic industries, embedding technological sovereignty at the heart of Europe’s pursuit of strategic autonomy.

Similarly, Italy’s “golden power” rules have increasingly restricted Chinese participation in telecommunications and infrastructure. While Italian policy is often reactive, it has aligned more closely with Brussels on tech resilience. Greece, in turn, has moved toward the EU mainstream more gradually, even if its enforcement capacity remains weaker than in northern Europe. Athens noticeably shifted course in 2020, when its largest telecommunications operator chose Swedish multinational Ericsson over Huawei, signaling a symbolic alignment with Western preferences.

Hungary, in a pattern mirroring its approach on trade and investment, remains a holdout, deepening digital cooperation with Beijing by welcoming Huawei investment in direct contradiction to EU guidance. This divergence underscores Budapest’s role as a spoiler, slowing EU cohesion on technology. By contrast, Lithuania has taken a markedly different path, pushing for strong restrictions on Huawei and championing EU-level tech screening. Despite its small size, its alignment with US standards reflects its values-driven foreign policy and reinforces its role as a policy innovator.

Poland allowed Chinese companies a significant presence in its telecommunications sector until 2020. However, a series of events—including a Huawei employee’s arrest for espionage, US pressure, and the EU’s adoption of its 5G Toolbox—eventually pushed Warsaw to diversify the sector and reduce Huawei’s and ZTE’s activities to the bare minimum. Meanwhile, Czechia has pursued a proactive, risk-based approach to technology policy. Ahead of the introduction of the EU’s 5G Toolbox, the Czech National Cyber and Information Security Agency flagged Huawei and ZTE as high-risk actors, paving the way for sector diversification. Prague aligns with US efforts on 5G security and export controls and has deepened ties with Taiwan, Japan, and South Korea on semiconductors and advanced manufacturing, while curbing exposure to China-linked supply chains.

Security: Turning awareness into action

Security is the area in which China has most clearly been recast as a systemic rival, particularly since the announcement of its “no limits” partnership with Russia. Although China is officially defined as a systemic rival, few tangible measures have been adopted to operationalize this stance. The EU has tightened export controls, reinforced NATO coordination, and cautiously expanded its Indo-Pacific engagement. Member states’ responses again diverge, shaped by geography, threat perceptions, and alliance politics.

Germany’s security stance has evolved markedly. Under Merkel, Berlin downplayed concerns about Taiwan, the South China Sea, and Chinese alignment with Moscow. Under Olaf Scholz, it cautiously endorsed de-risking and adopted tougher rhetoric. Today, under Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Berlin has moved even further, dropping “partnership” language and framing China as part of an “axis of autocracies.” Still, economic dependence tempers full securitization. France, by contrast, has long promoted Europe’s role as a global security actor. It backs EU sanctions against Beijing for its support of Russia, deploys forces in the Indo-Pacific, and seeks partnerships with democracies in the region. Its approach fuses European sovereignty with transatlantic coordination, framing security in comprehensive geopolitical terms.

Italy’s posture is more cautious. NATO engagement has reinforced Rome’s limits on Chinese access to critical infrastructure, and the war in Ukraine has hardened its stance against Russia. Yet Italy avoids labeling China as a direct security threat, signaling solidarity in Indo-Pacific deployments without projecting power. Greece, in turn, interprets security primarily through a regional lens. Anchored in NATO and reliant on US guarantees amid tensions with Turkey, Athens avoids sharp rhetoric on China but complies with EU export controls and acknowledges risks in dual-use technologies. Here, resilience is understood more in economic than military terms.

Meanwhile, Hungary actively undermines EU security cohesion by blocking joint statements on Hong Kong, Xinjiang, and Taiwan, and by opposing broader de-risking. Its alignment with Beijing—especially during its 2024 presidency of the Council of the European Union—highlighted the risks of internal veto power in weakening collective security signaling. By contrast, Lithuania has been a catalyst for collective resilience. Its confrontation with China over the opening of a Taiwanese representative office in Vilnius, and Beijing’s ensuing de facto trade embargo, made Chinese coercion a European security issue. For Vilnius, China policy is inseparable from its existential confrontation with Russia, casting Beijing and Moscow as dual pillars of an authoritarian bloc.

The paramount and inescapable issue overriding all other issues is Russia’s war on Ukraine—and Beijing’s support for Moscow. While a shared concern of enormous gravity to all, it has had an acute effect on Central and Eastern European states, shifting their perspectives from an economics‑first toward a security-driven China policy. In Poland, this has meant tightening alignment with the United States, curtailing high‑exposure ties, and urging Beijing to end dual‑use exports that could aid Russia. Czechia, in turn, has taken a proactive stance, viewing China as a systemic challenge to European and transatlantic security. Taiwan remains central to Prague’s engagement in Asia, with cooperation in semiconductors and industry, while intelligence and public institutions consistently flag China as a source of foreign influence and espionage.

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The Europe Center promotes leadership, strategies, and analysis to ensure a strong, ambitious, and forward-looking transatlantic relationship.

1    “European Council Meeting (29 and 30 June 2023)—Conclusions,” European Council, June 30, 2023, https://data.consilium.europa.eu/doc/document/ST-7-2023-INIT/en/pdf.

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Greece’s policy on China: Debt-era deals and recalibration https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/in-depth-research-reports/report/greeces-policy-on-china-debt-era-deals-and-recalibration/ Mon, 10 Nov 2025 15:00:00 +0000 https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/?p=881566 From the port of Piraeus to Brussels, Greece’s China policy has evolved from enthusiastic engagement and post-crisis dependency to strategic caution. Today, Athens's is balancing economic pragmatism with transatlantic security commitments.

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This is the eleventh chapter of the report “Is Europe waking up to the China challenge? How geopolitics are reshaping EU and transatlantic strategy.Read the full report here.

Over the last two decades, Greece’s policy toward China has shifted from enthusiastic optimism to a more cautious approach—a shift that reflects broader transatlantic and European Union (EU) dynamics. The bilateral relationship deepened significantly during Greece’s sovereign debt crisis, when economic pressures reshaped Athens’ foreign and fiscal policy priorities. The privatization programs, mandated under Greece’s bailout agreements and driven by the International Monetary Fund (IMF), paved the way for major Chinese investments—most prominently the 2016 takeover of the port of Piraeus by state-owned China Ocean Shipping Company Limited (COSCO). This flagship project of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) secured Beijing a key gateway into Europe.

Athens formally joined the BRI in 2018 and the China-led “17+1” framework in 2019, signaling a pragmatic alignment with Beijing that at times tempered Greece’s support for EU criticism of China on issues such as human rights. Following the signing of major maritime port concessions and the sale of additional corporate assets to Chinese firms, however, concerns grew in Athens and Brussels over the national security ramifications of these acquisitions. These worries—combined with shifting geopolitical dynamics—prompted Greece to recalibrate its policy and move into closer alignment with its EU and NATO partners.

Trade and investment: From Thucydides to the port of Piraeus

Greece first established diplomatic ties with the People’s Republic of China in 1972, shortly after China’s entry into the United Nations. In the 1980s, Athens deepened its relations with Beijing both to secure political backing amid tensions with Turkey and to expand economic cooperation, particularly in shipbuilding. Sino-Greek trade was modest in the early 2000s, totaling about $900 million in 2001, but expanded significantly in the following decades, particularly after the global financial crisis, reaching nearly $8 billion by 2024. This growth, however, has been marked by a widening imbalance: Greek exports fell from more than $1 billion in 2018 to just $450 million in 2024, while imports from China almost doubled—from $4.2 billion to $7.5 billion—driving the trade deficit past $7 billion.1

Greek exports to China account for roughly 0.9 percent of Greece’s total $53 billion in exports in 2024, consisting mainly of minerals, agricultural products, and pharmaceuticals.2 Chinese imports are far more diverse, dominated by machinery, electronics, and other manufactured goods. China is now Greece’s second-largest import partner, representing 8.5 percent of the country’s $90 billion in total imports.

On investment, Greece has become a key entry point for Chinese capital into Europe. Between 2000 and 2024, cumulative Chinese foreign direct investment (FDI) in Greece totaled about $5 billion, according to the Mercator Institute for China Studies,3 concentrated in infrastructure, energy, shipping, and telecommunications. Other estimates are considerably higher: the China Global Investment Tracker reports $9.7 billion in investment and construction contracts between 2005 and 2025, underscoring the scale of Beijing’s economic footprint in the country.4

The port of Piraeus,5 COSCO’s flagship BRI project with investments exceeding $600 million, has become a centerpiece of Chinese engagement in Europe, a main gateway for Chinese goods, and a symbol of Sino-Greek cooperation.6 This investment reflects both Greece’s economic vulnerabilities and China’s maritime ambitions under the BRI.

Piraeus has been strategically important since antiquity. Modernized in 1930 with the founding of the Piraeus Port Authority as a state-owned company and expanded in the 1970s, it has remained central to Greece’s maritime role. China’s involvement began in 2008, when COSCO secured a thirty-five-year contract to operate two piers, despite labor strikes and public opposition. Following Greece’s debt crisis, as the country implemented privatizations mandated under its bailout agreements, COSCO acquired 51 percent of the Piraeus Port Authority for $310 million, making the port the “dragon head” of China’s presence in Greece. COSCO expanded its stake to 67 percent in 2021 with an additional $95 million investment.7 With shipping times of about twenty-two days from Shanghai—roughly ten days shorter than routes to Rotterdam or Hamburg—Piraeus has become a strategic BRI hub. Its role is reinforced by Greece’s global shipping dominance: the Greek merchant fleet, the largest in the world, controls 21 percent of global and 60 percent of EU capacity, with nearly five thousand vessels valued at $70 billion. Greek shippers transport an estimated 60 percent of China’s exports.

COSCO’s investment has brought substantial gains. Container traffic rose from 1.5 million twenty-foot equivalent units in 2009 to 6.2 million in 2025, making Piraeus the largest container hub in the Mediterranean.8 Revenues grew from a $37 million loss in 2009 to more than $250 million in 2024, alongside job creation and local development.9 Yet COSCO’s ambitions have also met resistance. In 2022, Greece’s Supreme Administrative Court blocked a planned $4.5 billion passenger port project for failing environmental review, highlighting tensions between large-scale foreign investment, domestic regulation, and security concerns.10 This shift reflects Athens’ adoption of a more cautious approach toward Beijing in recent years and its alignment with US and EU efforts to screen Chinese strategic investment. In May 2025, the Greek government enacted its first structured FDI screening law (Law 5202/2025),11 modeled on Germany’s screening system and fully aligned with the corresponding EU regulation 2019/452.12

The BRI and the “17+1” format

Greece’s engagement with China deepened significantly in 2016, following Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras’ visit to Beijing. In the wake of his meeting with President Xi Jinping, Greece grew increasingly close to the BRI and the “16+1” cooperation format, a platform through which China engaged sixteen central and eastern European countries. Athens had already gained observer status in the “16+1” at the Riga Summit, alongside the EU, the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, Austria, and Switzerland. In May 2017, Tsipras attended the inaugural Belt and Road Forum, signaling Athens’ ambitions to serve as a bridge between Europe and Asia.13 Two years later, in April 2019, Greece joined the initiative—by then rebranded as the “17+1”—at the Dubrovnik Summit.14

With regard to the BRI, Greece had already signed a memorandum of understanding in August 2018 during Foreign Minister Nikos Kotzias’s visit to Beijing, becoming the first developed European country to formally join. Athens stressed that cooperation would proceed “in full respect of EU rules and procedures,” framing the agreement as an instrument for growth rather than divergence.15 Italy and Luxembourg later followed with similar accords. High-level exchanges intensified in 2019. Tsipras visited Beijing again; President Prokopis Pavlopoulos attended the Conference on Dialogue of Asian Civilizations; and, in November, President Xi paid a state visit to Athens, marking the symbolic consolidation of Sino-Greek relations within the BRI framework.

Technology: Critical networks, critical choices

Over the past two decades, Chinese telecom giant Huawei has established a strong foothold in Greece’s telecommunications sector, supplying more than half of the country’s highly sensitive 4G radio access networks (RANs).16 This mirrors a broader European pattern, with Chinese vendors supplying over 50 percent of 4G RAN equipment in fifteen out of thirty-one countries.17 Huawei’s rise in Greece was closely tied to the 2008 global financial crisis, when its cost-competitive solutions enabled operators such as Wind Hellas to expand their network capacity. It later participated in early 5G pilot projects in Athens, Trikala, and Kalamata, though the Kalamata project—in partnership with Vodafone and Luxoft—was suspended after local opposition.18 Although Huawei’s consumer market share later plummeted—from 25 percent in 2017 to just 2.5 percent by 2025—due to sanctions, supply-chain disruptions, and shifting consumer preferences, it remains strategically embedded in Greece’s network infrastructure.19

Still, China’s broader tech footprint in Greece is relatively limited. This is partly because Greek regulators—in line with EU policy—have grown more cautious about Beijing’s involvement in critical technology infrastructure. While the Hellenic Police purchased twelve Chinese-made drones for border surveillance in 2020, subsequent tech cooperation has slowed.20 In February 2025, the Hellenic Data Protection Authority launched an investigation into the Chinese chatbot DeepSeek over potential privacy violations, reflecting broader European concerns about digital sovereignty.21

Although Athens initially hesitated to join the first Trump administration’s Clean Network Initiative—a US-led effort to exclude Chinese technology from 5G and other critical digital infrastructure—Greece formally became a member in June 2020, demonstrating a careful balance between economic pragmatism and geopolitical considerations.22 Cosmote, Greece’s largest mobile operator, opted for Ericsson over Huawei for its 5G rollout, and Chinese state-owned enterprises (SOEs) have since been excluded from public tenders—even as Huawei equipment continues to operate in parts of existing 4G networks.

Amid this shifting landscape, Huawei has sought to diversify its footprint in Greece. In partnership with the Greek energy company Faria Renewables, it is developing up to 1 GWh of battery storage, beginning with a 49.9 MW/134 MWh project awarded in the country’s second battery auction. The $30 million investment—financed by Attica Bank and backed by the EU’s “Greece 2.0” recovery plan—illustrates Huawei’s effort to align with EU-funded energy priorities while maintaining a presence in Greece’s green transition.23 In early 2025, the company also announced a logistics hub at the port of Piraeus, underscoring ambitions to expand supply-chain and digital infrastructure links across the Mediterranean.24

Security: Navigating China’s mediterranean ambitions

Sino-Greek relations have taken on strategic weight due to Chinese investment in critical infrastructure, most notably in the port of Piraeus. While COSCO’s stake supported Greece’s post-crisis recovery, it also triggered concerns in Washington and Brussels over strategic dependence and NATO security. Chinese control of a major European port is widely viewed as a risk to supply-chain resilience and allied naval operations. Tensions escalated in January 2025 when the US Department of Defense listed COSCO among firms allegedly linked to China’s military. The listing carried no direct sanctions but fueled fears of “self-sanctioning” by companies and added uncertainty amid global shipping disruptions.25

From a transatlantic perspective, Piraeus has become emblematic of the risks of strategic dependency, shaping EU de-risking policies, NATO security debates, and broader great-power competition. US officials have warned that Chinese control of critical infrastructure in a NATO member state could weaken alliance resilience.26 Allies likewise fear Beijing might leverage Piraeus in ways that complicate allied naval operations and long-term strategic planning. These concerns are amplified by NATO’s reliance on Greek ports such as Souda Bay in Crete, a key base for US and allied naval forces.

To counterbalance Chinese influence, Washington and Brussels have backed the Alexandroupolis LNG terminal27—a $380 million project launched in May 2022, largely financed by the EU—as both a strategic and political investment. Linked to regional pipelines, the terminal is designed to strengthen Europe’s energy resilience and anchor NATO’s presence in Southeastern Europe.28 Its dual role in energy and defense makes it a linchpin of US-Greek cooperation and a counterweight to Chinese leverage at Piraeus.

Athens, for its part, has sought to balance openness to Chinese capital with its commitments to the EU and NATO. It aligns with EU positions on cybersecurity, maritime law, and human rights, while steering clear of security cooperation with China that might unsettle NATO—limiting engagement to symbolic gestures such as port visits and participation in multilateral exercises. Under Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis, Greece has deepened ties with the United States and the EU, limiting Huawei’s role while maintaining pragmatic economic cooperation and high-level exchanges with Beijing.

Beyond the strategic and economic realm, China has also expanded its soft-power presence in Greece through education and research cooperation. Academic ties have grown since the opening of Greece’s first Confucius Institute in 2009. The 2008 global financial crisis accelerated cooperation, and today five universities host Confucius Institutes alongside joint degree programs, teaching centers, and EU-funded research projects.29 Twenty-seven Greek institutions maintain over 135 partnerships with Chinese counterparts.“30 Yet, the absence of a coherent research policy and limited transparency have fueled concerns over collaboration with authoritarian states in sensitive fields.

Greece’s alignment with the EU’s China policy

Over the past two decades, Greece has evolved from a frequent outlier in EU China policy to a cautious participant in Brussels’ de-risking agenda. Historically, Athens occasionally departed from the EU line on foreign policy—blocking, for instance, a 2016 statement on the Permanent Court of Arbitration’s ruling against Beijing’s maritime claims in the South China Sea.31 Likewise, Greece vetoed a 2017 EU statement at the United Nations Human Rights Council condemning human rights abuses in China,32 marking the first time such a joint resolution failed to pass. These moves reflected Athens’ close ties with Beijing, strengthened further when Greece joined the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank and the “17+1” format and hosted President Xi Jinping for a state visit in 2019.33

Since 2020, however, Athens has adjusted course. A shifting geopolitical environment—including Turkey’s assertiveness in the Eastern Mediterranean, intensifying Sino-US rivalry, and deteriorating EU-China relations—has reinforced Greece’s dependence on US and NATO security guarantees.34 While Piraeus remains the flagship BRI project, Chinese investment has waned35 as Greece’s economy has recovered and diversified its sources of foreign capital, with annual FDI inflows rising from $330 million in 2010 to $7.3 billion in 2024.36 Even in Piraeus, COSCO’s efforts to expand operations have met both bureaucratic37 and local resistance.38

Reflecting this recalibration, Greece declined to host the “17+1” summit in 2022 and has avoided positions that break EU consensus. Chinese SOEs have been increasingly sidelined in public tenders, and in 2020 Greece’s largest telecom operator chose Ericsson over Huawei for developing its 5G network. Under EU and US pressure, Greece also adopted a robust FDI screening mechanism and aligned with the EU’s derisking agenda. Its earlier reluctance stemmed from debt-crisis dependency on foreign capital, a political focus on recovery over security, and limited institutional capacity.39 In October 2024, Greece’s abstention on EU tariffs against Chinese electric vehicles underscored its new pragmatic balancing act—supporting EU de-risking while preserving economic ties with Beijing.40

Conclusion

Greece has adopted a measured and pragmatic stance toward China. It accepts the EU’s designation of China as a “systemic rival” but avoids direct confrontation, seeking to balance transatlantic commitments with the economic benefits of engaging Beijing. This balancing act is most visible at the port of Piraeus, where COSCO’s investment has become both a symbol of China’s presence in Greece and a pillar of Beijing’s economic diplomacy.

Within the US-China strategic rivalry, Greece remains firmly anchored in NATO and aligned with the United States on security, yet it does not treat China as an adversary. Athens emphasizes the importance of a strong US presence in the Mediterranean but avoids alienating Beijing to protect key national interests such as shipping, tourism, and foreign investment. It maintains a careful posture—committed to transatlantic security but cautious in managing economic ties with China.

On Russia’s war in Ukraine and Beijing’s alignment with Moscow, Athens has voiced criticism but refrained from the sharper rhetoric of Northern European states. It complies with EU export controls and recognizes the risks of dual-use technologies, though enforcement remains looser than in Baltic states. On economic competitiveness, Greece recognizes the risks of Chinese overcapacity and participates in EU debates on de-risking and FDI screening, but does so pragmatically. It continues to welcome Chinese investment in infrastructure, energy, and logistics while adapting cautiously to EU digital sovereignty initiatives. For Athens, resilience is understood more in economic than military terms—and it interprets the EU’s de-risking approach not as a rigid doctrine but as a flexible framework.

Greece thus walks a middle path: anchored in NATO and EU solidarity, yet unwilling to forgo the economic advantages of engaging China. Its approach remains pragmatic, shaped by regional security priorities and an enduring commitment to economic stability.

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1    “Greece Exports to China,” Trading Economics, last visited October 9, 2025, https://tradingeconomics.com/greece/exports/china; “Greece Imports from China,” Trading Economics, last visited October 9, 2025, https://tradingeconomics.com/greece/imports/china.
2    “Greece Exports by Country,” Trading Economics, last visited October 9, 2025, https://ar.tradingeconomics.com/greece/exports-by-country.
3    Agatha Kratz, et al., “Chinese Investment Rebounds Despite Growing Frictions—Chinese FDI in Europe: 2024 Update,” Mercator Institute for China Studies and Rhodium Group, May 21, 2025, https://merics.org/en/report/chinese-investment-rebounds-despite-growing-frictions-chinese-fdi-europe-2024-update.
4    “China Global Investment Tracker,” American Enterprise Institute, last visited October 9, 2025, https://www.aei.org/china-global-investment-tracker/.
5    Today, the container terminal and shipbuilding zone are based in Perama, the car terminal in Keratsini-Drapetsona, and the passenger port remains in central Piraeus.
6    “China, Greece Agree to Push Ahead with COSCO’s Piraeus Port Investment,” Reuters, November 11, 2019, https://www.reuters.com/article/business/china-greece-agree-to-push-ahead-with-coscos-piraeus-port-investment-idUSKBN1XL1LC/.
7    The rest of the shares are held by the Hellenic Asset Development Fund (7 percent) and non-institutional investors (26 percent). “Investors Information,” Piraeus Port Authority, last visited October 9, 2025, https://www.olp.gr/en/investor-relations/investors-information.
8    “Piraeus Port Authority: Annual Financial Highlights 2024,” Athens Exchange Group, May 2025.
9    Tasos Kokkinidis, “Greece’s Piraeus Port Achieves Record Revenues and Profits in 2024,” Greek Reporter, April 2, 2025, https://greekreporter.com/2025/04/02/greece-piraeus-port-record-revenues-profits-2024/.
10    Eleni Stamatoukou, “Greece: Administrative Court Blocks Expansion of China Backed Piraeus Port due to Lack of Environmental Assessment,” Business and Human Rights Resource Centre, March 15, 2022, https://www.business-humanrights.org/en/latest-news/greece-administrative-court-blocks-expansion-of-china-backed-piraeus-port-due-to-lack-of-environmental-assessment/.
11    The FDI screening regime covers greenfield projects and acquisitions in sectors such as energy, healthcare, transport, telecommunications, and digital infrastructure, with stricter thresholds for defense, AI, cybersecurity, ports, underwater facilities, and border-area tourism.
12    Nicolas Tselikas Bouzeau, et al., “From Open Door to Watchful Gatekeeper: Greece Adopts a Foreign-Investment Screening Mechanism,” A&O Sherman, June 2, 2025, https://www.aoshearman.com/en/insights/from-open-door-to-watchful-gatekeeper-greece-adopts-a-foreign-investment-screening-mechanism.
13    Philippe Le Corre, “A Divided Europe’s China Challenge,” Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, November 26, 2019, https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2019/11/a-divided-europes-china-challenge?lang=en.
14    “Greece Joins 16+1 Initiative for Regional Trade with China,” Ekathimerini, April 12, 2019, 2025, https://www.ekathimerini.com/news/239523/greece-joins-16-1-initiative-for-regional-trade-with-china/.
15    “Greece Joins China’s Belt and Road Initiative,” Ekathimerini, August 27, 2018, https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/231908/greece-joins-china-s-belt-and-road-initiative/.
16    Eliza Gkritsi, “How Huawei Hooked Greek Telcos,” TechNode, December 9, 2020, https://technode.com/2020/12/09/how-huawei-hooked-greek-telcos/?.
17    “Understanding the Market for 4G RAN in Europe: Share of Chinese and Non-Chinese Vendors in 102 Mobile Networks,” Strand Consult, last visited October 9, 2025, https://www.strandconsult.dk/understanding-the-market-for-4g-ran-in-europe-share-of-chinese-and-non-chinese-vendors-in-102-mobile-networks.
18    “Kalamata Greece Suspends 5G Program,” Environmental Health Trust, December 3, 2019, https://ehtrust.org/kalamata-greece-suspends-5g-program/.
19    “Company Officials: Huawei Tops Smartphone Sales in Greece,” Tornos News, February 8, 2018, https://www.tornosnews.gr/en/tourism-businesses/new-investments/29959-company-officials-huawei-tops-smartphone-sales-in-greece.html.
20    Dimitrios Stroikos, “Head of the Dragon or Trojan Horse? Reassessing China—Greece Relations,” Journal of Contemporary China 32, 142 (2022), https://eprints.lse.ac.uk/114929/3/Head_of_the_Dragon_or_Trojan_Horse_Reassessing_.pdf.
21    Mary Drosopoulos, “Greece: DeepSeek and Technological Sovereignty,” Osservatorio Balcani e Caucaso Transeuropa, May 7, 2025, https://www.balcanicaucaso.org/eng/Areas/Greece/Greece-DeepSeek-and-Technological-Sovereignty-237607.
22    “Building a Clean Network: Key Milestones,” US Department of State, last visited October 9, 2025, https://2017-2021.state.gov/building-a-clean-network-key-milestones/.
23    Greece 2.0 is the Greek government’s national program implemented within the framework of the EU’s Recovery and Resilience Facility (RRF), the main pillar of the NextGeneration EU initiative. It allocates more than €30 billion in grants and loans to support projects advancing digital transformation, the green transition, infrastructure upgrades, and innovation. “Faria Renewables, Huawei Setting Up Battery Partnership in Greece,” Balkan Green Energy News, January 24, 2025, https://balkangreenenergynews.com/faria-renewables-huawei-setting-up-battery-partnership-in-greece.
24    David Glass, “Huawei Eyes Logistics Hub in Piraeus,” Seatrade Maritime News, January 2, 2025, https://www.seatrade-maritime.com/ports-logistics/huawei-eyes-logistics-hub-in-piraeus.
25    Jonathan Saul, Yannis Souliotis, and Renee Maltezou, “Greece Examines Impact of US Blacklisting of Piraeus Port Owner COSCO—Sources,” Reuters, January 10, 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/greece-examines-impact-us-blacklisting-piraeus-port-owner-cosco-sources-2025-01-10/.
26    “U.S. Expresses Concerns over Chinese Investments in Piraeus,” Ekathimerini, October 9, 2019, https://www.ekathimerini.com/economy/245818/us-expresses-concerns-over-chinese-investments-in-piraeus.
27    The Alexandroupolis LNG terminal is a floating storage and regasification unit (FSRU) located offshore southwest of Alexandroupolis, Greece.
28    Terysa King, “Port of Alexandroupolis Makes Sustainment History with Heavy Brigade Movement,” US Army, March 17, 2024, https://www.army.mil/article/274572/port_of_alexandroupolis_makes_sustainment_history_with_heavy_brigade_movement.
29    “Greece: The Overlooked Risks of Academic Cooperation with China,” Center for European, International and Security Studies, June 24, 2025, https://ceias.eu/greece-the-overlooked-risks-of-academic-cooperation-with-china.
30    China–Europe Academic Engagement Tracker: Greece,” Center for European, International and Security Studies, last visited October 9, 2025, https://academytracker.ceias.eu/map/eu/Greece.
31    Robin Emmott, “EU’s Statement on South China Sea Reflects Divisions,” Reuters, July 15, 2016, https://www.reuters.com/article/us-southchinasea-ruling-eu-idUSKCN0ZV1TS/.
32    Nektaria Stamouli, “Greece Vetoes EU Condemnation of China’s Human-Rights Record,” Wall Street Journal, June 19, 2017, https://www.wsj.com/articles/greece-vetoes-eu-condemnation-of-china-human-rights-record-1497858040.
33    Helena Smith, “Xi Jinping Comes to Greeks Bearing Gifts,” Guardian, November 12, 2019, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/nov/12/xi-jinping-comes-to-greeks-bearings-gifts.
34    Stroikos, “Head of the Dragon or Trojan Horse? Reassessing China—Greece Relations,” 602–619.
35    “Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) Inflows in Greece by Country of Origin,” Statista, last visited October 9, 2025, https://www.statista.com/statistics/1613585/fdi-inflows-in-greece-by-origin.
36    “Foreign Direct Investment: Inward and Outward Flows and Stock (Annual Data),” United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, last updated September 1, 2025, https://unctadstat.unctad.org/datacentre/dataviewer/US.FdiFlowsStock.
37    Tasos Kokkinidis, “Greek Archaeological Council Derails COSCO’s Investment Plan for Piraeus,” Greek Reporter, April 3, 2019, https://greekreporter.com/2019/04/03/greek-archaeological-council-derails-coscos-investment-plan-for-piraeus/.
38    Momoko Kidera, “‘Sold to China’: Greece’s Piraeus Port Town Cools on Belt and Road,” Nikkei Asia, December 9, 2021, https://asia.nikkei.com/Spotlight/Belt-and-Road/Sold-to-China-Greece-s-Piraeus-port-town-cools-on-Belt-and-Road.
39    Dimitrios Stroikos, “China–Greece Relations at 50: A Not So Happy Anniversary?” China Observers in Europe, September 20, 2022, https://chinaobservers.eu/china-greece-relations-at-50-a-not-so-happy-anniversary.
40    “How EU Governments Voted on Chinese EV Tariffs,” Reuters, October 4, 2024, https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/how-eu-governments-plan-vote-chinese-ev-tariffs-2024-10-04/?utm.

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