By Leonid Ragozin, The American Conservative, 5/9/26

If you were exclusively on a mainstream Western media diet in recent weeks, you’d be excused for thinking that the Russian President Vladimir Putin’s regime now lies on its deathbed. Signs of “public discontent” are all over the place, you see. Silicon-lipped beauty blogger Viktoria Bonya attacked the government on YouTube. So did the notorious Kremlin propagandist Ilya Remeslo, fresh from a stint at a psychiatric ward. Meanwhile, the former defense minister Sergey Shoygu might be plotting a coup, according to CNN.

But if you talk to people inside Russia, as this author does on a daily basis, you’ll find them perplexed and doubting the West’s sanity upon hearing about this fresh bout of “Russia is finished” sentiments.

Pretty much all of my interlocutors are strongly anti-Putin and antiwar. In my intelligentsia circle, you need to walk miles to find anyone pro. People do complain about the ongoing economic slowdown, pointing to the closure of some of their favorite small businesses, like boutique fashion brands that had only recently emerged. They are aghast at the Russian government’s (so-far unsuccessful) attacks on popular messaging services and perturbed by mobile internet interruptions in the center of Moscow caused by the Ukrainian drone threat. 

But unlike Ukrainians, who live in constant fear of Russian strikes and of press gangs roaming the streets in search of fresh recruits, people in Russia are still enjoying much the same kind of lives as before the war, with living standards comparable to poorer EU member countries (check IMF’s GDP PPP charts).

More than anything, Russians of all political convictions are flabbergasted by the onslaught of irrationally xenophobic and jingoistic pro-Ukrainian propaganda they subject themselves to whenever they turn on their VPNs and check feeds on X and Facebook. What Western government-backed online mobs like NAFO mostly achieve is confirming the Kremlin’s narratives about the West’s inherent hatred of Russia and intent to wipe it off the face of Earth.

Clearly, those Western politicians and opinion makers—like former British Prime Minister Boris Johnson—who believed that a proxy war against Russia (in Johnson’s own terminology) would upend Putin’s regime were badly wrong and succeeded only in pushing Ukraine under a Russian bulldozer.

So, what would it really take to change Russia for the better?

As an 18-year-old student in 1991, I took part in overthrowing a political regime in Russia. I joined the defense of the White House—the one in Moscow, not Washington, and the seat of Boris Yeltsin’s government at the time—against the coup by hardline Soviet civilian and military leaders.

Our victory resulted in the collapse of the communist system and subsequently of the USSR. The events were driven by public euphoria, particularly on the issue of independence movements in Soviet republics. To give an idea, one of the largest Moscow rallies of 1991—and arguably in the history of Russia—was in support of Baltic independence. As for Ukraine and Belarus, they appeared to us too stubbornly Soviet for refusing to go along with shock therapy reforms which Yeltsin’s government embarked on first thing after dissolving the USSR. 

The mass uprisings and burst of optimism became possible for one reason: While Soviet people of 1991 had many realistic fears, including economic collapse, military dictatorship, and Yugoslav-styled civil war, the last thing they feared was the West. Opposite from terrifying, the West was a beacon of hope, if not a freshly adopted political religion.

This effect wasn’t achieved by the U.S. funding Osama bin Laden when he helped Afghan Mujahideen fight the Soviets, nor by the Iran-Contra affair, nor by propping up Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship in Chile or fighting Vietcong. 

Rather, it was attained through soft power—music, films, quality goods, enviable lifestyles, and an effort by a myriad of Americans and Europeans, often on the left-wing and antiwar side of the aisle—to build bridges and friendships with us, Soviet people. What we saw through our rose-tinted glasses at the time was the West of “We Are the World,” of U2’s album The Joshua Tree, and of transcontinental U.S.-Soviet “TV bridges” hosted by Phil Donahue and Vladimir Pozner.

When the Soviet system collapsed, we definitely didn’t feel defeated, no matter what America’s Cold War hawks said at the time. Instead, there was a sense of victory, achieved jointly with the West.

That sentiment changed radically by the end of the 1990s when economic hardships and domestic security threats sobered people up, while the West had firmly adopted a policy of radical eastward expansion explicitly aimed at isolating and containing, rather than integrating, Russia (read Mary Sarote’s Not One Inch for details). 

In 1999, NATO’s bombardment of Yugoslavia prompted Moscow mayor Yury Luzhkov to write an op-ed which opened with the latest polling data: 64 percent of Russians now feared NATO and 70 percent believed the attack on Belgrade posed a direct security risk to Russia. Luzhkov, then seen as a presidential hopeful, pointed out that NATO’s expansion and its rising appetite for war were encouraging “sieged fortress” sentiments in Russian society that could lead to self-isolation. He called for social mobilization to overcome the deep economic crisis that dogged Russia throughout that decade and “to revive a strong Russia.”

Although his views at the time were moderately pro-Western, Luzhkov was pictured by Western and Russian media alike as a Communist revanche figure. He was eventually forced out of the race in favor of a little-known intelligence officer chosen as a successor by Boris Yeltsin’s family and preferred by the West—Vladimir Putin.

But Luzhkov’s words turned out to be prescient. The reason these warnings from him and a plethora of Western dignitaries, like U.S. ambassador to Moscow Jack Matlock, were ignored is a certain Western delusion best captured by a cover headline in the Atlantic from 2001, one year into Putin’s presidency: “Russia is finished.”

That arrogant sentiment informed many ill-fated decisions—Ukraine’s and Georgia’s invitation into NATO at the Bucharest summit in 2008, the endorsement of a forced removal of a democratically elected Ukrainian president at the end of Euromaidan revolution in 2014, and the aggressive crossing of Putin’s red lines in the run-up to Russia’s all-out invasion in Ukraine in 2022.

Fast forward to 2026 and Russia feels less “finished” than ever. Instead, it has evolved into a tech-savvy 21^st-century autocracy with a highly modernized war economy. It has successfully adapted to a conflict in which it sees itself as an underdog confronting the mighty Western military industrial machine, which makes it not too concerned about inevitable setbacks. Most importantly, every alternative to Putin seems to pose risks of civil war and state collapse.

To be sure, the country is going through what every Russian would admit to be a difficult period, but Putin’s Russia is showing far fewer “cracks in the regime” than the U.S.-led West, currently torn between Trump-style right-populism and Biden-style left-liberalism.

As the Atlantic’s “Russia is finished” cover turns 25 this month, there is a nagging feeling that it is the West’s own hostility and appetite for conflict which has been the main factor in the rise of Russia’s high-end, 21^st-century authoritarianism. Conversely, it is a return to the era of detente and soft power which could reverse this trend and change Russia for the better. But how many Ukrainians and Russians need to die in a senseless and avoidable war to prove the obvious?

By Dave DeCamp, Antiwar.com, 4/9/26

The true total of US national security spending in 2027 will exceed $2.5 trillion, far beyond the already record-shattering $1.5 trillion military budget President Trump has requested, according to veteran defense analyst Winslow Wheeler.

Wheeler, who spent decades working in Washington for senators and the Government Accountability Office on national security issues, reached the figure by factoring in the Pentagon budget, military-related spending from other US government agencies, the national security share of interest accrued on the US debt, among other factors (full table of his work at the end of the article).

The White House’s Office of Management and Budget (OMB) has said that the $1.5 trillion military budget request for 2027 is a $445 billion, or 42%, increase over this year. The OMB said the $1.5 trillion includes $1.1 trillion in “base discretionary budget authority” for the Pentagon, plus a request for $350 billion in “additional mandatory resources through reconciliation.”

More than $150 billion in supplemental military spending was included in the so-called “Big Beautiful Bill,” which President Trump signed into law last year, to pad the Pentagon budget, and the Trump administration is seeking to secure the $350 billion for the 2027 budget in a similar way.

Trump is also looking for additional military spending to replenish stockpiles of US air defense interceptors and other munitions used in the US-Israeli war against Iran, which is expected to be worth somewhere between $80 billion and $200 billion and would be counted as part of the 2026 spending if it’s pushed through Congress soon.

Wheeler said that he labeled the supplemental spending bills as “slush funds” to “characterize the lack of specificity in congressional legislation for how the funds are to be allocated within the major categories shown here, compared to historic discretionary appropriations.”

At the beginning of his term, Trump suggested he was interested in reducing the military budget, but he went on to dramatically expand US military interventions and seek unprecedented levels of military spending.

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By Vitaly Ryumshin, RT, May 2026

The West’s Overton window on Russia is slowly beginning to reopen. A revealing example emerged this week in Italy. At the Venice Art Biennale, organizers decided to reopen the Russian pavilion for the first time in four years. More importantly, it wasn’t handed over to representatives of the émigré opposition or anti-Kremlin proxies, but to actual Russian delegates who travelled from Moscow.

Predictably, the decision provoked outrage. The European Commission reportedly sent angry letters to the Biennale organisers and the Italian government. Ukraine imposed sanctions on those involved in running the pavilion. Activists quickly descended on Venice, including members of Pussy Riot, the punk group banned in Russia as extremist, who staged demonstrations against the event.

What’s striking is that, despite the pressure, the Italians refused to back down. Biennale president Pietrangelo Buttafuoco openly accused critics of censorship and narcissism. The Russian pavilion remained open.

Only a year or two ago, such a scenario would have seemed impossible. During the height of the Ukraine conflict, even the slightest positive gesture towards Russia in the West was treated as morally unacceptable, as evidence of “sympathy for the aggressor.” Any deviation from the approved line had to be condemned immediately, and those responsible risked public ostracism.

Now the atmosphere is gradually changing. Russia is cautiously being allowed back into international cultural and sporting life. The Venice Biennale is only the latest example.

Earlier this year, Russian athletes at the Paralympics in Milan were once again allowed to compete under national symbols. The pattern was similar as Ukraine protested loudly and Western activists demanded restrictions. Yet the International Paralympic Committee ultimately sanctioned Ukraine’s most disruptive athletes rather than reversing the decision. Russia’s return proved highly successful: six athletes won 12 medals, and the team finished third overall.

Taken together, these episodes suggest that attitudes towards Russia inside the EU are beginning, however slowly and reluctantly, to soften.

It is hardly surprising that Italy is at the forefront of this shift. From the beginning of the conflict, Rome adopted a distinctive position. Officially, Italy supported collective Western European initiatives. In practice, however, it maintained a noticeably more restrained attitude towards Moscow than many of its allies. Earlier this year, Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni was among the first major EU leaders to openly raise the question of restoring official contacts with the Kremlin.

Italian society reacted calmly. That is no accident. For decades, Italy has maintained close cultural and economic ties with Russia, and ordinary Italians have generally viewed Russians favourably.

A similar dynamic can increasingly be seen elsewhere in Europe, although in many countries it is still drowned out by the aggressive rhetoric of political elites. France offers a good example. While Emmanuel Macron continues discussing the “containment” of Russia at European summits, French audiences have enthusiastically embraced a new production of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin performed in Russian.

More broadly, Western Europeans increasingly recognize an uncomfortable reality: Russian culture cannot simply be erased. Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Tchaikovsky and Chekhov are not merely “Russian” figures in a narrow national sense. They are part of world civilization. Attempts to cancel them always looked intellectually shallow and culturally self-destructive.

And this is precisely where the growing demand for normalization comes from. Once people accept that Russian literature, music, and art remain legitimate parts of European cultural life, it becomes harder to argue that everything contemporary Russia produces must remain permanently quarantined as well. One thing inevitably leads to another.

Another important shift is also visible. The West no longer treats Ukraine’s position as morally unquestionable in the way it once did. There was a period when every statement from Kiev was amplified as if it carried unique ethical authority. Zelensky and his officials were treated less as political actors than as moral arbiters, but that mood has faded.

Even if the EU’s illusions about Ukraine have not disappeared entirely, expectations have become more grounded in reality. Western Europeans increasingly understand that Kiev’s total rejection of everything Russian is not simply a cultural preference but a wartime political necessity for the Ukrainian leadership. It’s part of the ideological framework through which Zelensky maintains internal unity during a prolonged conflict.

The EU’s interests are ultimately different. However hostile rhetoric towards Moscow may sound today, many in Europe understand at a deeper level that Russia is not going anywhere. Geography alone dictates that some form of coexistence will eventually have to be rebuilt.

And if Western Europe and Russia will ultimately need to find a path back to peaceful coexistence anyway, then perhaps the small steps now being taken are not merely symbolic gestures, but the beginning of something larger.

This article was first published by the online newspaper Gazeta.ru and was translated and edited by the RT team

YouTube link here.

Russia’s nuclear accusations against Britain and France: tensions rising over Ukraine

By Uriel Araujo, InfoBrics, 5/20/26

Europe’s nuclear debate has entered a rather dangerous new territory – one that goes well beyond the discussion about “security guarantees” for Ukraine after a possible peace agreement with Russia. Moscow has formally accused Britain and France of plotting to provide Ukraine with nuclear weapons. Western officials deny such claims, and there is thus far no concrete evidence that Paris or London are preparing a nuclear transfer. Yet dismissing the accusation outright would be naive enough, particularly given the broader context developing across the continent.

Last year, the UK and France signed the so-called Northwood Declaration, deepening bilateral atomic cooperation and discussing long-term deterrence arrangements amid uncertainty surrounding future US commitments. Publicly, the agreement focuses on coordination, autonomy, and possible troop deployments to Ukraine after a peace deal. It is true that nukes for Kiev are not officially part of the arrangement. Still, in deterrence politics, strategic ambiguity is often the point.

The issue became even more controversial after Volodymyr Zelensky stated he would accept nuclear weapons from Britain or France “with pleasure” if such an offer emerged. One may recall that Ukraine surrendered the Soviet atomic arsenal on its territory under the 1994 Budapest Memorandum precisely to avoid this sort of escalation scenario.

Meanwhile, reports and rumors continue circulating that Ukraine could seek to deploy future nuclear-related assets at strategic airbases, including facilities connected to Rzeszow in Poland, the crucial logistics hub through which much Western military aid flows into Ukraine. Verification is of course difficult amid the fog of information warfare. Suffice to say, however, that Moscow would certainly interpret any such arrangement as a direct strategic threat – even without permanent warhead deployments.

Russian suspicions do not emerge out of nowhere: for one thing, French President Emmanuel Macron has spent months openly advocating a more assertive nuclear posture. In March 2026, during a speech at Ile Longue, he announced plans to expand France’s atomic arsenal, allow temporary deployment of nuclear-capable aircraft to allied countries, and deepen nuclear dialogue with partners. Macron has similarly called for a stronger “forward deterrence” role for French nuclear forces and possible deployments to allies.

As a matter of fact, Paris is now actively discussing extended nuclear deterrence with Poland, Germany, the UK, Belgium, Greece, Sweden, Denmark, and the Netherlands. This represents a historic policy shift. France traditionally guarded its nuclear doctrine jealously. Today, however, Macron openly advertises the French nuclear umbrella across the continent.

No wonder Poland is especially interested. Polish President Karol Nawrocki has repeatedly argued that Poland should develop or participate in nuclear deterrence arrangements. In interviews, including discussions involving French cooperation, Nawrocki has defended participation in nuclear-sharing projects and closer strategic ties with Paris.

I’ve argued Warsaw increasingly sees itself not merely as a frontline NATO state, but as an aspiring geopolitical pole with strategic ambitions of its own. Germany, however, views these developments with growing unease: Berlin understands that a French-led nuclear architecture could shift Europe’s center of gravity away from Germany’s economic dominance toward French military leadership. German elites are themselves exploring alternatives to total dependence on the US nuclear umbrella; yet Paris clearly wants to position itself as the indispensable power inside Europe. The resulting Franco-German tensions remain underreported but are increasingly visible.

All this unfolds while Europe simultaneously assumes a larger role in sustaining the Ukrainian conflict. As I’ve recently written, the geopolitical divergence between Trump’s Washington and Brussels has become one of the defining developments of 2026. While US President Donald Trump pushes for negotiations based on battlefield realities, many European governments continue encouraging Kiev to resist compromise no matter what, thereby prolonging the conflict.

According to Kiel Institute data, European military assistance increased massively in 2025 and 2026, overtaking the US as Kiev’s principal external backer. Thus, Europe is, so to speak, increasingly “taking ownership” of the conflict politically, financially, and strategically.

This wider context matters a great deal: if European powers now perceive themselves as the main guarantors of the Ukrainian regime’s long-term survival, while simultaneously doubting the reliability of future US protection, then Moscow’s concerns about European nuclear ambitions in fact make plenty of sense and should not be quickly dismissed as “propaganda”.

Russia itself launched major nuclear drills this week involving strategic forces and missile exercises, while debates over atomic energy, deterrence and sovereignty are intensifying throughout the continent.

So much for the old post-Cold War dream of a permanently demilitarized Europe. The continent is moving toward something very different: a transatlantic “divorce”, competing deterrence systems, rising distrust, and strategic improvisation. The truly dangerous element is not necessarily whether France or Britain intend to arm Ukraine with nuclear weapons tomorrow: the peril lies in any case in the fact that such a scenario no longer sounds unthinkable to many policymakers.

Thus far, Europe’s attempt to combine permanent confrontation with Russia, strategic autonomy from Washington, and expanded nuclear activism has produced only greater instability. The geopolitical complexity of Eurasia is increasing rapidly, and the room for miscalculation is becoming smaller by the day.

By Anatol Lieven, Responsible Statecraft, 5/26/26

The warning from Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov to the U.S. and European governments to evacuate their diplomats and citizens from Kyiv before Russia launches “systematic strikes” marks a drastic escalation in the Ukraine conflict — with a serious risk of drawing the Washington and NATO into direct conflict with Russia.

It most probably means that Russia intends to use Oreshnik hypersonic ballistic missiles to strike the underground headquarters in Kyiv where U.S. and European officers have been helping the Ukrainian armed forces to target Russia with missiles and drones.

In recent weeks, these have caused increased damage deep within Russia itself. In addition, a Ukrainian drone last week in the Russian-occupied Donbas struck a college and reportedly killed 21 students. Russia responded with a massive assault on Ukraine, including the use of Oreshniks.

So far, however, Moscow has refrained from targeting Ukrainian headquarters. This is somewhat remarkable, given that the Ukrainian armed forces have repeatedly targeted Russian headquarters. On Tuesday, the Ukrainian General Staff claimed that it had destroyed a major Russian command and control center in Lugansk with British storm shadow cruise missiles. The effective use of these missiles — which Ukraine has been firing for the past two years — requires U.S. targeting data.

Despite this, Moscow has not targeted Ukrainian headquarters in Kyiv precisely because of the likelihood that U.S. and other NATO soldiers and intelligence officers would be killed, risking drastic escalation in response by the West. Since Donald Trump returned to the presidency and initiated the peace process, the Russian government has also been restrained by a desire not to either anger or weaken him.

However, last week U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio declared that the peace talks are at a standstill, and that “there are no such talks occurring at this time.” He essentially threw responsibility for moving the process forward back to the Russians and Ukrainians: “If we see an opportunity to pull together talks that are productive, not counterproductive, and that have the chance to be fruitful, we’re prepared to play that role [of mediation].”

The Russian army has also proven unable to advance on the ground in the Donbas. When President Vladimir Putin insisted that Ukraine withdraw from the remaining small part of the Donbas that it holds as a condition of peace, he presumably thought (like many Western military analysts) that the Russian army would soon capture this territory in any case. The massive use of drones by the Ukrainian army has prevented this; and despite heavy casualties, for two years the Russian army has made only tiny advances.

Russian generals are reportedly telling Putin that they will capture the rest of the Donbas by this autumn; but he has little reason to believe them, since at the current rate of advance so far this year, it will take the Russian army almost three more years to do so.

Meanwhile, Russian public discontent with the war is growing, as its economic costs begin to bite. Putin’s personal popularity has dropped sharply.

While public opinion polls suggest that most Russians might accept a ceasefire along the present battlefront, Russian hardliners would see this as a severe Russian defeat. For years now, they have been urging Putin both to intensify attacks on Ukraine and to threaten the West with radical escalation.

Until this week, Putin resisted this pressure; but he now seems to be listening to them.

The Russian government may calculate that a new strategy will bring a measure of success whatever the Western response. If the U.S. and NATO withdraw their advisors and diplomats, this will be a considerable victory for Russia; as will also be the case if Russia manages to destroy Ukrainian headquarters and damage their targeting capabilities.

Moscow may well also believe that it has less to fear than in the past from U.S. and NATO escalation in response to Western deaths. The U.S. is mired in war with Iran that it can seemingly neither win nor withdraw from. Pentagon officials have reported a serious depletion in key U.S. weapon stockpiles, including cruise missiles and air defense systems, and is diverting them to the Gulf from its reserves in Europe and the Pacific.

Thus the Pentagon has just warned Japan of “severe delays” of two years or more in the supply of Tomahawk missiles that Tokyo has already paid for, due to the need to replenish U.S. stocks used up in Iran. Japan regards these as critical for deterrence against China. This has led to Japanese commentators asking what has happened to the supposed U.S. “prioritization” of Asia and the China threat.

Meanwhile in Europe, half of the countries that had promised artillery ammunition to Ukraine have now suspended their participation in the process, leading to a risk that supplies of shells will sink drastically.

The Iran War also means that Russia could be in a position to threaten the U.S. If Washington decides to increase its aid to Ukraine, Russia could offer corresponding help to Iran in its own targeting with missiles and drones, bringing the likelihood of U.S. casualties. If the Trump administration is not worried by this possibility, it certainly should be.

We are therefore now facing the imminent prospect of a major crisis, a major dilemma for the Trump administration. This means that far from abandoning the peace process, the Trump administration needs urgently to re-engage, and to put intense pressure on European NATO allies to make offers in the area of sanctions relief, energy purchases, and normalization of relations that could lead Russia to end the war.

European countries will also need to help persuade the Ukrainian government to agree to a compromise peace.

With Ukraine/Middle East envoys Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner hopelessly distracted by the Iran War, this will require the appointment of a new high-level and experienced negotiator for the Ukraine peace process, backed by a professional team of experts. It is absurd that two non-professionals (however personally capable) should be charged with the simultaneous conduct of two completely separate and vitally important sets of peace negotiations. No serious government should behave in this way.

If the Trump administration does not re-engage in the peace process, then within the next week or so it may likely face a choice between a humiliating retreat and a much deeper and more dangerous military commitment to Ukraine, with the serious possibility of direct war with Russia.