Swiss Neutrality: Between Autonomy & NATO

By Uroš Lipušcek, Consortium News, 10/9/26

The Protection of Swiss Neutrality referendum, which Swiss voters overwhelmingly rejected on Sept. 27, appeared, at first sight, to be a vote on a very specific Swiss question:  whether the country’s traditional neutrality should be defined more precisely and strictly in the Constitution.

The referendum was an immediate effort to stop Switzerland from joining European Union sanctions against Russia, and honor only U.N. Sanctions,  and to prevent the country from entering into cooperation with a military alliance unless Switzerland is attacked.

The broader question is  whether Swiss neutrality has become so flexible that it risks losing its strategic meaning?  What does the referendum’s defeat mean for neutrality as an element of a future European security architecture?

Despite deep historical roots, Swiss neutrality was not formalized in the 1848 Federal Constitution.  

The initiators of the Sept. 27 referendum called for a much more precise constitutional definition of neutrality, intended to prevent the government’s current and highly flexible interpretation of neutrality, which allows Switzerland to move increasingly closer to NATO’s security doctrine.

The referendum raised a fundamental question that is important not only for Switzerland but for all European states: what does neutrality actually mean in 21st-century Europe?  

Can a state be simultaneously neutral and closely integrated into Western security structures? Can neutrality be used selectively, à la carte — as a legal principle, a security strategy, an instrument of foreign policy and at the same time an element of national identity?

The result was very clear. 70.15 per cent of voters rejected the initiative, while 29.85 per cent supported it. All 26 cantons rejected the proposal.

Voter turnout was 47.07 per cent, meaning that approximately 33 per cent of all eligible voters actually voted against the initiative. Switzerland has no minimum turnout requirement for a federal referendum to be valid. According to the Swiss federal authorities, average turnout in referendums is around 46 per cent.

Turnout in this referendum was therefore slightly above the long-term average, although the relatively low level of participation may also reflect the repeated assurances by the government and the leading media that the referendum was not a vote on abolishing neutrality, but merely on whether a stricter and more restrictive form of neutrality should be written into the Constitution.

Neutrality as a Binding Principle

Latin copy of the Treaty of Fribourg or Treaty of Perpetual Peace bearing the seals of the cantons and their allies, preserved at the French National Archives. (Archives Nationales /Wikimedia Commons/ Public Domain)

Swiss neutrality has a tradition stretching back several centuries.

The Old Swiss Confederacy had been an expansionist power between 1470-1516 in which it fought the Habsburgs, the Burgundians in the 1470s, the Swabians in 1499 and the Italians, pushing into Lombardy, leading Machiavelli to compare the Swiss to the Romans leading Machiavelli to compare the Swiss to the Romans and a Macedonian Phalanx. The Italian campaign ended with the defeat at Marignano in 1515 and the 1516 Treaty of Perpetual Peace with France, which led to the origins of Swiss neutrality.

The first formal declaration that the confederacy was a “neutral estate” came in 1674 in a resolution of the Tagsatzung (a diet of envoys from the 13 cantons).

The Old Swiss Confederacy collapsed when Napoleon’s troops invaded and established the Helvetic Republic, a French-dominated centralised state.  This episode demonstrated an essential fact: neutrality alone could not protect Switzerland if the European balance of power collapsed.

At the 1815 Congress of Vienna, the victorious European powers over Napoleon agreed that a permanently neutral Switzerland was in the interests of European stability and it was internationally recognized. This remains an important geopolitical fact even today. Switzerland became one of the principal examples of a permanently neutral state operating within this legal framework.

The First World War

German prisoners of war arriving in Davos, Switzerland, 1916. (Unknown from Barton, Susan, Internment in Switzerland during the First World War, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2019.)

The First World War pitting France against Germany provided a dramatic test of Swiss neutrality. Joining one side could have threatened Switzerland’s internal cohesion among Swiss, French and German speakers.

Neutrality therefore became not only a foreign-policy principle but also a mechanism for holding together a multilingual and multi-confessional society.

The Second World War

The Second World War was the greatest test of Swiss neutrality to that time. Surrounded by Axis-controlled powers, Switzerland maintained formal neutrality. It mobilised its armed forces and developed defensive plans designed to make an invasion costly.

At the same time, the history of Swiss neutrality during the Second World War remains highly controversial. Switzerland maintained extensive economic and financial relations with both sides and made significant concessions to Nazi Germany. Its banking system and trade policy have subsequently been subjected to extensive historical investigation and criticism.

The Cold War

After 1945, Swiss neutrality entered a new phase. Switzerland remained outside both NATO and the Warsaw Pact. During the Cold War, neutrality gave Switzerland a distinctive diplomatic position.

Geneva became an important centre of international diplomacy and humanitarian activity. The International Committee of the Red Cross, the European headquarters of the United Nations and numerous international organisations developed a major presence in Switzerland. Neutrality therefore became an important diplomatic asset.

The Post-Cold War Period

U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan center left, congratulating Swiss President Kaspar Villager as Switzerland became the 190th state to join the United Nations, Sept. 10, 2002. (UN Photo/Mark Garten)

After the end of the Cold War, Switzerland began to reconsider neutrality in a more flexible and pragmatic way.

In 1991, Switzerland participated in economic sanctions against Iraq. In 1996, it joined NATO’s Partnership for Peace, although it did not join NATO itself. In 1999, it sent unarmed personnel to support international peace-building efforts in Kosovo. In 2002, Switzerland joined the United Nations.  In March 2025, it joined NATO’s Science and Technology Organization – Enhanced Partnership.

In December 2025, the Swiss government announced that Switzerland and NATO had established a cooperation programme for 2025–2028, aimed, among other things, at increasing the interoperability of the Swiss armed forces, including its air force and communications systems.

Switzerland has therefore repeatedly adjusted its interpretation of neutrality to changing international circumstances since the end of the Cold War.

The Referendum Proposal for Stricter Neutrality Criteria

The initiative, supported by the Swiss People’s Party (SVP) and organised by the group Pro Switzerland, demanded a considerably stricter constitutional definition of neutrality.

In its view, neutrality should be defined as “permanent and armed.” Switzerland should not join any military or defence alliance, nor cooperate with such an alliance, except if Switzerland itself were attacked or an attack against it were directly imminent.

Had the initiative succeeded, Switzerland would have been constitutionally committed to a much stricter interpretation of neutrality, under which the continuation of sanctions against Russia, for example, not authorised by the U.N. Security Council, would have become legally and politically far more difficult.

According to the initiators, Switzerland’s increasing rapprochement with NATO and its policy of confrontation with Russia have therefore moved the country away from strict neutrality.

What Does Neutrality Mean under International Law?

The official opening of the League of Nations, Nov. 5, 1920. (Frédéric Boissonnas, National Library of Norway, Wikipedia Commons, Public Domain)

International law determines how a neutral state must behave during a war between other states. The Hague Conventions of 1907 stipulate that neutral states must not allow foreign troops or weapons to cross their territory and must not provide military assistance to belligerent parties.

This does not mean, opponents of the initiative argued, that a neutral state must be politically or economically indifferent to every international conflict or violation of international law.

Even before the Second World War, Switzerland adopted what became known as “differential neutrality.” It remained exempt from military action but accepted certain economic sanctions imposed by the League of Nations.

Switzerland’s participation in League of Nations sanctions against Fascist Italy in 1935 became an important historical example of what was then called “differential neutrality.” The modern Swiss debate concerns whether such differentiated neutrality remains legitimate when sanctions are not collectively authorised by the U.N. Security Council.

The Confrontational Geopolitical Climate in Europe

European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen on March 24, 2022, when MPs condemned Russia’s attack on Ukraine and urged further sanctions on Moscow to “protect the European economy.” (European Parliament, Flickr, CC-BY-4.0)

Because of the growth of a perceived Russian “threat“ to Europe, Switzerland has increased its military expenditure with the rest of Europe. By 2032, the military budget is expected to rise from approximately CHF 6.3 billion, or 0.7 per cent of GDP, to 1 per cent of GDP.

For 2028–2030, the Swiss government intends to earmark additional revenue generated by a 0.5 percentage-point increase in VAT specifically for defence spending. This is expected to generate approximately CHF 1.7 billion in additional funds annually during those three years.

In August this year, the Swiss government also approved an additional CHF 970 million for military expenditure, particularly for air defence and protection against drones. In addition, the Swiss government has estimated that another CHF 24 billion will be required exclusively for weapons procurement projects.

The combination of a higher regular military budget, additional VAT revenue and the extraordinary procurement programme represents a substantial increase in Swiss defence expenditure.

Despite this increase, Switzerland is not automatically following NATO’s new 2025 guideline calling for defence expenditure of 3.5 per cent of GDP, plus up to another 1.5 per cent for broader security-related expenditure by 2035.

Domestic Political Dimension of the Referendum

The referendum was also an important test of Swiss domestic politics.

On one side stood primarily the country’s largest political party, the SVP, which associates neutrality with national sovereignty, limiting external influence and preserving traditional Swiss identity, as well as several non-governmental organisations and prominent academics.

On the other side were the federal government and practically all the other major political parties, which argued that constitutionally locking neutrality into a rigid framework would reduce Switzerland’s room for maneuver. Most of the media took the same position.

Although Switzerland is not a NATO member, an important question remains: where is the boundary between cooperation with one side in a conflict and actual alignment with that side? How much substantive difference can there still be between a neutral state and a state politically aligned with one geopolitical bloc before neutrality becomes little more than a decorative legal label?

This fundamental question remains open after the referendum.

Factors Behind the Rejection of the Initiative

Swiss Foreign Minister Ignazio Cassis addressing a press conference on the Ukrainian peace process at the World Economic Forum in January 2024 in Davos-Klosters, Switzerland. (World Economic Forum/Pascal Bitz/
CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

A particularly important factor was the almost complete political isolation of the referendum’s initiators.

Because the initiative was supported primarily by the SVP/UDC, while the federal government and almost all other major political parties opposed it, the average voter received a fairly strong political signal about how to vote.

Foreign Minister Ignazio Cassis formulated the central message very clearly: “Switzerland was and is neutral and will remain neutral.” The question, he argued, was merely whether Switzerland needed a “new neutrality.”

This was a politically, effective formulation because it allowed voters to reject the initiative while still feeling that they were defending Swiss neutrality.

Before the referendum, the government warned that stricter neutrality would hamper security cooperation, intelligence-sharing and participation in military exercises with NATO members.

It was therefore defending precisely the type of neutrality that permits continued cooperation with NATO.

This position was also reflected in the draft Swiss Security Strategy 2026, which argues that, because of the changed security environment – particularly the war in Ukraine and the increased risk of conflict between Russia and NATO – Switzerland should strengthen cooperation with its European partners.

The Swiss armed forces likewise published material in September, just over two weeks before the referendum, emphasising that the war in Ukraine demonstrated that it was in Switzerland’s interest to orient its security and defence policy more strongly towards cooperation with partners.

Leading media organisations and various research institutes adopted broadly similar positions.

A study by the University of Zurich’s Research Center for the Public Sphere and Society (Fög), which analysed 523 articles about the initiative in the German- and French-speaking parts of Switzerland, found that media coverage of the initiative was overwhelmingly negative.

The average tone was –22 on a scale ranging from –100 to +100. Fög explicitly concluded that the tone was negative in the large majority of the media outlets analysed.

The extensive system of public support for Swiss media raises a legitimate question about the structural relationship between government policy and media independence. It does not, by itself, prove editorial dependence, but it is relevant when assessing the broader political environment surrounding the referendum.

The Fög study also found that Russia was the most important reference point in media coverage. In most reports, Russia was presented as an aggressor and a threat, including to Switzerland.

Opponents of the initiative used Russia’s war in Ukraine to argue in favour of sanctions and closer security cooperation with European states. Switzerland is being gradually integrated into a broader European security architecture increasingly oriented towards preparing for a possible long-term confrontation with Russia.

Criticism of closer alignment with NATO consequently acquired the connotation of support for Russian President Vladimir Putin and was often portrayed as a “pro-Putin” initiative.

A similar tendency can be observed elsewhere in Europe, where criticism of NATO policies has regulary  been dismissed as implicitly pro-Russian. In Slovenia, for example, the pro-NATO Trivelis Institute portrayed me, because of my criticism of excessive NATO-related military spending, as being almost a Russian spy. [The Institute later removed my name from its report but did not apologize.]

The fact is that media pluralism has declined across Europe, including in Switzerland. Arguments concerning Russian security concerns and interests are increasingly dismissed as “Putinism,” making serious discussion of these issues increasingly difficult.

Putin addressing a military parade on Red Square on May 9 to mark the 81th anniversary of victory for the eastern front in World War II. (President of Russia)

In Switzerland, there are many influential institutions and security research institutes that have systematically emphasised the need for closer security cooperation with NATO.

Leading think tanks argued that Switzerland should strengthen European security cooperation, reconsider the future form of its partnership with NATO, recognise that neutrality had become less important from a security-policy perspective and acknowledge that neutrality could restrict Switzerland’s room for maneuvre in certain circumstances.

But Prof. Pascal Lottaz, a scholar, host of the Neutrality Studies podcast, and a prominent advocate of a stricter and more conceptually rigorous understanding of neutrality rejected a flexible approach to neutrality. He treats neutrality as an independent field of study, rather than as a mere historical remnant.

Lottaz warns against thinking in categories of “good” and “bad” actors because such thinking reduces the space available to neutral states and neutral diplomacy.

His basic idea is highly relevant today: if the world is moving from a unipolar to a multipolar system, the need for neutrality will not necessarily decline. It may actually increase.

Lottaz’s approach opens the possibility of understanding neutrality as an element of a new European security architecture: a transformation of the European security system from a predominantly bloc-based logic towards a pan-European system in which NATO members, neutral states and Russia could all participate.

International Dimension of the Referendum

Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky at the meeting of the NATO-Ukraine Council on July 12, 2023. (NATO/Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

With the war in Ukraine, Europe has returned to an era of bloc politics. Russia, the United States, NATO, the E.U. and China are creating an increasingly complex system of geopolitical competition. Under such circumstances, neutrality means much more to a small state than a question of national identity.

It is a question of strategic autonomy. A neutral state must be capable of deciding, in a conflict between major powers, not to automatically follow one of them.

To make such a decision meaningful, however, a state must possess sufficient capabilities to implement it. If a country is heavily or completely dependent on another state for energy, food, finance, weapons, critical technologies or security guarantees, its formal neutrality can be severely constrained.

The general rule is simple: the greater a state’s strategic autonomy, the more credible its neutrality can be.

Switzerland is particularly interesting because it is a wealthy and highly developed country that has traditionally linked neutrality to its own defence capabilities, allowing it to maintain a relatively high degree of strategic autonomy.

Nevertheless, the referendum revealed a fundamental dilemma: is it possible to remain neutral while simultaneously becoming increasingly integrated into a Western security system?

Lesson for Neutral States

NATO ambassadors Klaus Korhonen of Finland and Axel Wernhoff of Sweden, with letters of application to the military alliance on May 18, 2022. (NATO/Flickr/CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

The Swiss case is especially important for European countries considering strategic autonomy, particularly European states with established neutrality traditions: Austria, Ireland, Malta and Cyprus, as well as two special cases, Vatican City and Moldova.

In Asia, comparable or partially comparable cases include Turkmenistan, whose permanent neutrality was formally recognised by the U.N. General Assembly in 1995; India, which has oscillated between non-alignment and a form of flexible neutrality; and Indonesia.

Panama, Costa Rica and Mexico have also declared themselves neutral in different historical contexts. The members of the Non-Aligned Movement rejected membership in military blocs, although they did not formally declare themselves neutral states.

Neutrality, if it is not supported by strategic autonomy or an explicit security guarantee from major powers, cannot by itself guarantee a state’s security. On the other hand, membership in a military bloc is not an absolute security guarantee either.

Sweden and Finland, which abandoned their previous neutral or non-aligned status — a status that had brought them considerable economic advantages, particularly in Finland’s case — are today members of NATO.

Their accession to NATO did not make their security environment objectively safer; rather, it illustrates how dramatically the European security environment has deteriorated since 2022.

This is undoubtedly a warning that should be taken seriously. For example, the E.U. today speaks of “strategic autonomy,” but a large part of European security remains tied to NATO, whose strategic defence capabilities depend to a considerable extent on American military power.

It is therefore difficult to speak of complete European strategic autonomy as long as European security depends on American military power.

The Concept of Security Zones

U.S. President Gerald R. Ford signing the Helsinki Final Act or Helsinki Accords at the end of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1975, in Helsinki. (U.S. National Archives/ No known restrictions)

During the Cold War, both superpowers — the United States and the Soviet Union — recognised security interests in what they regarded as their respective spheres of influence: the United States in Western Europe and the Soviet Union in Eastern Europe.

The Swiss Confederation was unofficially part of the Western security sphere, partly because of its central geographical position in the middle of Europe. This was not the case with some other states in Eastern Europe during the Cold War.

One of the closest advisers to former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, Helmut Sonnenfeldt, told American ambassadors in Western Europe at a meeting in Brussels in December 1975 that the United States had to accept the fact that the Soviet Union had special security interests in Eastern Europe, while at the same time seeking to transform the Soviet relationship with Eastern Europe gradually from a coercive relationship into a more “organic” one.

Sonnenfeldt’s argument was not intended as a formal recognition of Soviet sovereignty over Eastern Europe. He advocated an evolution of the relationship between Moscow and the countries of Eastern Europe, not formal recognition of Soviet sovereignty over them.

Opponents later interpreted his ideas as recognition of a permanent Soviet sphere of influence — hence the term “Sonnenfeldt Doctrine,” which he rejected.

As a Yugoslav correspondent in the United States, I had several extensive conversations with Sonnenfeldt about this doctrine in the late 1980s. The Yugoslav leadership believed that, under this doctrine, the United States would abandon non-aligned Yugoslavia to the Soviet Union.

Sonnenfeldt in 1974 accompanying U.S. President Gerald Ford to the Vladivostok arms control summit. (David Hume Kennerly /Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library/Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain)

Sonnenfeldt categorically denied this and claimed that such rumours were being spread by the Soviet secret service, the KGB.

The Sonnenfeldt Doctrine remains a fascinating and newly relevant Cold War concept, particularly in relation to the question of spheres of influence and “gray zones” between major powers as a means of preventing armed conflict between them.

Sonnenfeldt’s logic was based on the recognition that major powers have legitimate security interests in their respective neighbourhoods. This creates a need for compromise in order to prevent direct confrontation between great powers.

The Sonnenfeldt Doctrine was not a theory of neutrality, but an approach to managing spheres of influence and great-power security interests. A contemporary version of this logic can be found in the concept of “security zones” proposed by the influential American economist and peace advocate Professor Jeffrey Sachs.

Sachs has introduced an important conceptual shift into the theory of spheres of influence. According to him, major powers may have legitimate security interests along their borders, but they do not have the right to create spheres of influence or dictate the internal policies of smaller neighbouring states.

The Helsinki Final Act on security and cooperation expressed a related principle: the security of one state must not come at the expense of the security of another.

This insight was also incorporated into the thinking of George Kennan, one of the principal architects of the American policy of containment of the Soviet Union.

Kennan later became a prominent critic of the militarisation of the division of Europe, and of West Germany’s integration into NATO, warning that this could dangerously intensify the security dilemma with Moscow. (After German reunification he also opposed NATO’s eastward expansion.)

Kennan’s conclusion was remarkably close to the idea of “grey zones” as neutral spaces between two blocs. Kissinger was even more explicit. His approach was based on the balance of power, spheres of influence and the prevention of direct confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union through détente and negotiations between the two superpowers.

He illustrated this policy in the case of Yugoslavia.

According to U.S. State Department documents, the United States wanted, within the framework of détente, to preserve non-aligned Yugoslavia’s “substantial independence” from the Soviet Union.

Yugoslavia was therefore an early example of a strategically autonomous European state outside both blocs – a kind of grey zone between the two geopolitical systems.

Kennan testifying before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in 1966. (Warrren K. Leffler /Wikimedia Commons/Public Domain)

Today, a grey-zone state can be understood as a country that is not a formal member of a major military bloc, maintains security relations with several powers, is not completely subordinate to any one great power, occupies a geopolitical space between competing systems, and can use neutrality to reduce direct military confrontation.

Sachs’s theory of security zones, which would have neutral status, is particularly relevant to the debate over the current geopolitical position of Ukraine, Moldova and Georgia, as well as the European security architecture as a whole.

The neutrality of these zones is not merely a national legal status; it can become an institutional component of a European security architecture based on mutually recognised security interests.

The deeper question is therefore not whether neutrality belongs to the nineteenth century, but whether neutrality could become one of the institutional building blocks of a future European security system.

Former Secretary of State Kissinger formulated a similar proposal in 2014, following the political upheaval in Ukraine. Ukraine had the right to political and economic integration with Europe, he argued, but should not join NATO. It could cooperate with the West while maintaining a relationship with Russia comparable to that of neutral Finland at the time.

The failure to create a European security arrangement capable of accommodating Russian security concerns while preserving the sovereignty of smaller states remains one of the central unresolved questions behind the Ukraine conflict.

Whether a different application of the Sonnenfeldt, Kennan and Kissinger logic could have prevented the war remains a matter of historical debate.

In the End

The referendum did not end Swiss neutrality.

Switzerland remains neutral, but it will continue to adapt its neutrality to changing international circumstances.

The à-la-carte approach, however, raises an uncomfortable question: how much flexibility can neutrality tolerate before it becomes merely a political label?

A new European security system would be possible if NATO were gradually transformed into a pan-European security organisation within the framework of the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (O.S.C.E.) [It is worth noting here that the U.S. did not agree to Russia’s desire to join NATO].

Some prominent German intellectuals are speaking in terms of Entspannungspolitik, a European security architecture, non-alignment, arms control and the restoration of diplomatic dialogue with Russia.

There are, however, significant differences among academics dealing with these questions.

Some advocate classical military neutrality.

Others advocate European non-alignment.

A third group primarily advocates a new European security architecture in which Russia would be incorporated into a system of common security.

A fourth group believes that neutrality is no longer an appropriate response after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

The present Swiss model lies somewhere between classical neutrality and strategic partnership with the West.

Swiss neutrality is unlikely to disappear. The more important question is what kind of neutrality will survive.

If neutrality becomes sufficiently flexible to accommodate sanctions, military interoperability and increasingly close cooperation with one geopolitical bloc, it may remain a constitutional label only, while losing part of its strategic meaning.

If, on the other hand, neutrality is understood as a form of strategic autonomy, it could become not an outdated remnant of the past but one of the foundations of a future European security order.

For my native, Slovenia, the Swiss debate on neutrality  raises a broader strategic question: whether a small European state can combine credible defence, strategic autonomy and military non-alignment while contributing to a European security system based on cooperation rather than permanent bloc confrontation.

Uroš Lipušcek Ph.D. is a Slovenian journalist and historian who was the long-time correspondent for RTV Slovenija from the U.N., U.S. and  China. He was a candidate for the E.U. parliament in 2024.  At present he is a professor at Emuni University (Euro-Mediterranean University) in Piran, Slovenia. He is the author of several  books  and analyses on history, among them Ave Wilson: USA and the Remaking of Slovenia in Versailles 1919–1920, (2003) and Sacro Egoismo: Slovenians in the Clutches of the Secret London Pact of 1915  (2012). 

The views expressed are solely those of the author and may or may not reflect those of Consortium News.

Andrew Korybko: Why Won’t China Cut Ukraine Off From Drone-Related Sales?

By Andrew Korybko, Substack, 9/6/26

Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) referenced the EU’s summertime disbursement of the first €1 billion to Ukraine for drone procurement out of the €6 billion promised for this program in an article late last month about how “Ukraine’s Drone War Exposes An Uncomfortable Reliance On China”. They drew attention to the carve-out allowing Ukraine to purchase Chinese parts with these funds, ergo the politically incorrect observation back then that “The EU Plans To Pay China To Help Ukraine Kill Russians”.

RFE/RL reported that “While Kyiv has cut back on the purchase of ready-made drones from China, components such as motors, lithium batteries, and fiberoptics are still in high demand.” Additionally, “In the first six months of 2026, imports of Chinese parts had already reached around 76 percent of the total recorded for the previous year.” They also cited a Ukrainian report which claimed that “38 percent of the value of drone components imported by Ukraine in the first half of 2025 came from China.”

The purpose of their piece appears to be to instill a sense of urgency in Ukraine and the West alike to radically ramp up domestic drone production in order to reduce what one of their cited experts described as Ukraine’s “hostile interdependence” on China. They explained that “Beijing remains Kyiv’s largest trading partner, while Ukraine is a key supplier of agricultural goods to China.” That’s true, and it’s one of the reasons why China won’t cut Ukraine off from drone-related sales, but there’s more to it.

While Sino-Russo ties are better than at anytime in history, it was suspected as far back as early 2023 that “China Doesn’t Want Anyone To Win In Ukraine”, the reason being that a supposedly manageable forever war would indefinitely delay the full implementation of the US’ planned “Pivot (back) to (East) Asia”. Moreover, resource-rich Russia could become disproportionately dependent on China, thus leading to Moscow selling its natural wealth to Beijing at bargain-basement prices.

In pursuit of this cynical end, China has simultaneously played an irreplaceable role in providing Ukraine with drones, parts, and fiber optics (even if only indirectly through intermediaries like apologists have speculated) while serving as an irreplaceable valve from sanctions pressure for Russia. Ukraine is therefore able to keep pace with Russia’s military-technical advancements, the Russian economy avoids the crisis that the West sought to catalyze through sanctions, and China maintains its “active neutrality”.

The last point refers to China actively helping Ukraine and Russia, thus making it neutral in the sense of not taking either side. China financially profits from Ukraine’s drone-related purchases, its economy continues growing due to the large-scale import of heavily discounted Russian energy, and it relatively reduces the overall Western pressure upon it by proving that it’s not secretly “allied” with Russia. This policy, for whatever one might think about its merits, indisputably contributed to prolonging the conflict.

Had China cut Ukraine off from its drone-related sales in the spirit of its “no-limits” partnership with Russia that was declared several weeks before the start of special operation, then Russia might have attained more of its stated objectives in the conflict by now, if not outright achieved maximum victory. The US’ military and intelligence support for Ukraine is more important than China’s drone-related sales, but since there’s no end to US support in sight, Russia should try to get China to finally cut Ukraine off.

West’s New Proposal for Peace in Ukraine | The fallout from Ukraine’s drone strikes on Yandex

West’s New Proposal for Peace in Ukraine

Russia Matters, 10/16/26

  1.  New Peace Plan: U.S. and European negotiators are developing a peace proposal that would combine Ukraine’s reconstruction, security guarantees, economic integration and a territorial compromise, according to Washington Post columnist David Ignatius. A U.S. official summarized the proposal’s approach as “Make the problem and the solution bigger.” The proposed framework would seek to end the war along the existing “line of control.” “The package would have four basic components, according to the U.S. official. The message to Putin would be: Don’t just end the war with Ukraine. Make an economic and security deal with Europe that would restore stability to the region after an upward spiral of escalation,” Ignatius writes. Ukraine’s reconstruction would be the first pillar… Security guarantees would be the second essential component… A third pillar would be economic integration of Russia, Ukraine and Europe,” according to Ignatius. “The final piece of the deal would be the most unpalatable. Russia, which began the war hoping to conquer all of Ukraine [sic], would agree to a ceasefire along the existing front line, or ‘line of control,’ as negotiators describe it. For Ukraine, that would mean allowing Russia to control the territory it occupies—including the bitterly contested area known as Donbas,” according to Ignatius. A well-connected source told Russia Matters that in his commentary Ignatius captured where the push to end war in Ukraine stands now.*
  2. Civilian casualties in Ukraine rose 85% in September as Russia intensified missile and drone attacks, according to U.N. monitors cited in a Bloomberg story. At least 328 civilians were killed and 2,105 injured—the highest September total since Russia’s full-scale invasion began in 2022, according to the monitors.
  3. Russia has gained a net of 16 square miles of Ukrainian territory (about 7/10ths the area of Manhattan Island) in the past four weeks (Sept. 15–Oct. 13, 2026), according to data from Ukraine’s DeepState OSINT group analyzed in the latest issue of RM’s Russia-Ukraine War Report Card. In comparison, during the previous four-week period, Russia’s net gain was 57 square miles of Ukraine’s territory, according to DeepState’s data. In the period of Oct. 10–15, Russian forces advanced in or near seven distinct settlements, according to the DeepState map. In contrast, Ukrainian forces liberated three settlements and regained control of areas near two additional settlements, in the same period, according to DeepState.
  4. For the month of September 2026, Ukraine intercepted 85.59% of Russian drones, 69.84% of cruise missiles, and 0% of ballistic missiles, according to data collected by CSIS and analyzed by the Belfer Center. Ukraine’s 0% interception rate for the Russian ballistic missiles is mostly explained by the lack of interceptors for U.S.-made Patriot air defense systems, which have been the only reliable tool for shooting down Russian ballistic missiles. Recent media estimates of Ukraine’s arsenal of Patriot interceptors range from a couple to having run out.
  5. To add insult to injury caused by the lack of Patriot interceptor supplies, Ukraine has this week endured temporary slowdowns and interruptions of its U.S.-supplied military-grade version of Starlink service before service was restored on Oct. 15. Two U.S. officials told Reuters that the order to slow Starshield, on which Ukrainian drones rely for guidance, came from the White House. In contrast, a senior U.S. official told Axios this week that the Trump administration had nothing to do with the alleged Starlink service constraints. The competing claims were reported in the Western press as Donald Trump tried to have Ukraine commit to an energy ceasefire with Russia in order to lower diesel prices ahead of midterm elections in the U.S.

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NATO War on Russia Over the Body of Ukraine

By Oliver Boyd-Barrett, Substack (Excerpt), 10/15/26

…As I write, it seems that 600,000 residents of Kiev lack electricity; the metros are not working; even water is rationed or unavailable, sewerage services disrupted, locomotives have been bombed, and the mayor is recommeding people to leave. Russian Zircons have managed to penetrate the cement roof of a crucial electricity substation that, given previous Russian destruction of Kiev’s own electricity generation facilities, feeds the capital with electricity from western Ukraine and Europe. The situation in other major cities such as Donetsk, Zapporizhzhia, Kharkiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Odessa and Izyum is not much better.

The most recent Russian attacks seem to be going a bit easier on Odessa. But not all is quiet. Recent Russian drone and missile attacks on Odessa have increasingly targeted digital infrastructure, ports, and transit corridors. On October 10-11, Russian forces struck the technological complex of local internet service provider Tenet at 106 Bazarna Street in central Odeswa, damaging cooling systems and power equipment and causing temporary local network interruptions. On October 6, Russian drone strikes hit a key transit node between Odessa and Moldova, damaging trucks and passenger vehicles and injuring five civilians. Over September and October, additional overnight drone and missile barrages have targeted residential areas, medical and educational facilities, and local production sites, following a heavy wave of summer shelling that killed dozens across the Odessa region. From July through to October, Russian forces have continued to target foreign-flagged cargo vessels and port infrastructure near Odessa and Chornomorsk to disrupt Ukrainian maritime exports…

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The fallout from Ukraine’s drone strikes on Yandex

The Bell, 10/12/26

Ukraine has launched a new deep-strike campaign on data centers operated by Yandex, the country’s biggest internet company, whose services underpin Russia’s entire digital economy. So far, three strikes in the space of a week seem to have been every bit as effective as Kyiv’s attacks on oil refineries (something that Donald Trump insists Ukraine must cease). The drone strikes have destroyed or seriously damaged three of Yandex’s six data centers, forcing the company to restrict the operation of several services — from taxis to payment systems and banking — while also having to disconnect some clients from cloud services.

‘It’s a disaster’

“It’s a disaster. We’re working on it. But we definitely won’t be able to restore some [capacity] at all,” one of Yandex’s managers wrote to The Bell after the first drone attack on the night of Oct. 8. “There are no good options. We’re choosing bad ones,” he added after the second attack. At the time he speculated that a further attack might jeopardize the work of the company’s core services — exactly what’s happening now.

Kautilya The Contemplator: The Destruction of a Shared World: Ukraine’s Industry, Soviet Memory and the Cost of War

By Kautilya The Contemplator, Substack, 10/6/26

I was recently speaking with a former college professor whom I have known for almost thirty years. A scholar of Russian history, politics and international relations, he also lived the history that he would later teach. He grew up in the Soviet Union, graduated from the prestigious Moscow State Institute of International Relations (MGIMO) in the early 1970s and became a Soviet diplomat. Following the dissolution of the USSR, he moved to the United States.

Our conversation gravitated toward a dimension of the conflict in Ukraine that strategic commentators rarely touch upon. For my professor, as well as many Ukrainians and Russians of his generation who grew up in the Soviet Union, footage of damaged power stations, factories, mines and bridges carry a grief that most battlefield maps cannot explain. Infrastructure like the Azovstal Iron and Steel Works, the Dnipro Hydroelectric Station, power transmission networks, numerous bridges and railway structures are all iconic Soviet industrial feats that have been largely blown up or bombed. These structures belonged to the landscape of their lives. They were symbols where they studied and travelled, where their parents and grandparents worked and invested their lives in the belief that they were building the future. While the conflict today has divided political judgments profoundly, the sense of loss nonetheless crosses boundaries that now divide.

The destruction in Ukraine cannot be measured only in terms of endangered civilian lives, loss of energy provision, food and other production. It is also the destruction of an accumulated inheritance. It is the dismantling of the physical foundations of a society that generations once expected their children to inhabit. Understanding this loss requires a history that goes far beyond the conventional narrative in the West that Russia is the inexplicable aggressor and Western countries are disinterested spectators. Western decisions about NATO expansion, overt support to extremist and anti-Russian groups, the policies of the current Zelensky regime and the strategic use of Ukraine as a proxy against Russia firmly belong in the explanation of this confrontation.

Ukraine’s significance was never only confined to its location on a map or as a “geopolitical pivot” as former national security adviser Zbignew Brzezinski called it in his book The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and its Geostrategic Imperatives.1 It also was about what people had built there together and what later became its industrial and human inheritance.

The Industrial Heart of a Revolutionary State

Ukraine played perhaps the central role in the Soviet economic project. Not only was it well-endowed in mineral resources like coal and iron ore but also brought together agricultural production, industrial experience and access to major transport routes. Its development did not begin during Stalin’s industrialization programs during the 1920s and 1930s. The Donbas and the southern metallurgical districts already possessed substantial industry before the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. Soviet leaders inherited this resource base, restored it after war and expanded it dramatically.

In his December 1921 report to the Ninth All-Russia Congress of Soviets, Vladimir Lenin described the Donbas Basin as “the main center of our large-scale industry.”2 Without fuel and functioning factories, the young Bolshevik state would be unable to sustain production and establish the economic relationship between workers and peasants on which its survival depended. The region was important not only because of its coal seams. It’s miners, railway and metalworkers already formed an organized proletariat and would provide the production capacity base of the new state.

Construction of Azovstal’s first blast furnace, June 1, 1932
Construction of blast furnace No. 1 at the Azovstal Iran and Steel Works, Mariupol, Ukrainian SSR, June 1, 1932 (Source: RIA Novosti)

This ambition was taken even further. During the First Five-Year Plan (1928-1932), around 400 of roughly 1,500 new industrial plants (~27 percent) built across the Soviet Union were located in Ukraine.3 During the second, around 1,000 of 4,500 (~22 percent) were also there. This was an all-union undertaking and brought together labor, planners and engineers from all across the USSR. Ukraine would demonstrate that socialism could transform an economy and society.

The Dnipro Hydroelectric Station: The Future Becomes Visible

Few projects expressed the ambition of industrial development as the DniproHES, that began operating in 1932. The National Museum of the Holodomor in Kiev documents construction workers living in barracks and dugouts surrounding the emerging industrial complex.4 The museum’s oral-history collection describes how employment could provide a small ration and a chance of survival for people escaping hunger in the countryside. Construction was both punishing work but many considered it a refuge. Food and accommodation were inadequate. Liudmyla Yehorchenko, a seven-year old in 1932, whose parents worked at the complex, recollects watching frequent funeral processions passing her street.

Its construction also reveals a history obscured by today’s geopolitical divisions. American engineer Hugh L. Cooper advised on the design and construction of the dam. General Electric provided five generators. Another four were manufactured at the Electrosila plant in Leningrad to GE specifications. GE specialists also participated in the project.5 They did not, however, build the entire station. Soviet construction combined domestic labor and engineering with imported American expertise and equipment.

Workers waiting in a bread line in 1932. The unfinished DniproHES dam is in the background. The photo was taken by American photographer James Abbe despite taking pictures of any queues in the USSR was prohibited. (Source: James Abbe, “I Photograph Russia”, New York, 1934)

American support did not just entail the delivery of machinery. American engineers worked closely with Soviet labor and became a part of the daily life of this emerging Soviet industrial landscape. Their living conditions, however, were different from those of their Soviet counterparts. They lived near the construction site in a residential area comprising comfortable stone and brick cottages, a sharp contrast to the barracks and dugouts occupied by Soviet workers.

DinproHES supplied metallurgical, chemical and machine-building enterprises. It enabled productive activity far down the industrial chain as entire factories were created that sustained communities. It became a potent emblem of historical change in the early 1930s and the realization of a political promise that was visible in concrete and machinery.

The dam suffered significant damage in August 1941 when retreating Soviet NKVD units blew it up using twenty tons of explosives to slow the German advance. In Fall 1943, retreating German forces blasted the dam in order to slow the Soviet advance. The dam was rebuilt and modernized in 1950. In March 2024 it was struck by missiles and was put out of action.

A World Beyond the Factories

My professor’s recollections of Soviet Ukraine went far beyond its industrial landscape. He remembered it as a place where the achievements of modernization met the advantages of geography. The soil was fertile, fruits and vegetables were plentiful, the climate was more forgiving than in other parts of the USSR and there was easy access to the Black Sea. Odessa and Mykolaev belonged to this remembered world alongside the factories. Crimea occupied a special place. It was a southern destination of warmth and seaside holidays, something like a Florida on the Black Sea. This does not mean that every Ukrainian household enjoyed a higher standard of living relative to other regions of the USSR. However, it captures the importance of food, climate, landscape, recreation and the way people experienced their lives.

A call for swimming time at the Artek Young Pioneer’s Camp in Crimea, 1948 (Source: Sergei Vasin/MAMM/MDF/russianphoto.ru)

This is why the destruction of familiar places has brought so much grief to people who otherwise have diverging political opinions. Underneath these memories was my professor’s conviction that this calamitous conflict could have been avoided. His remembrance gives that argument a human dimension. The consequences of Western policy and its relentless pursuit of conflict with Russia is being borne by people whose homes, livelihoods and inherited world occupy the territory that is being used as a proxy to fight this war.

Leonid Brezhnev visiting Artek international children center on the Black  Sea, Crimea, 1979.
Soviet General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev visiting the Artek International Children Center in Crimea, 1979 (Source: Soviet Aesthetics)

Shared Memory and the Limits of Restraint

The timing of Russia’s escalation in Ukraine since 2022 deserves attention. There were limited attacks on Ukrainian infrastructure such as railway facilities and the Zatoka bridge in the spring of 2022. The sustained campaign against Ukraine’s electricity system started in the autumn of 2022. Attacks against power generation facilities has dramatically increased over the past several months. The recent attacks on major Kiev bridges also belong to an expanding pattern rather than marking the first Russian strikes on bridges.

Could shared Soviet memory have contributed to earlier limits? The possibility merits consideration. Putin’s political outlook places significant weight on the historical relationship between Russia and Ukraine. In his July 2021 essay on their relationship, he described the division between the two nations as a common tragedy and emphasized the economic advantages he believed continued cooperation could have preserved.6 Irrespective of how contested his interpretation of that history is, it nonetheless shows that this shared Soviet memory occupies some place in his political imagination. Putin himself has presented some limits as deliberate. In April 2024, he said Russia had held back certain energy attacks during winter for humanitarian reasons.

There is also an irony to all of this. Infrastructure that may have been understood as a shared inheritance and thus considered worth preserving, increasingly becomes the medium through which Russia is ratcheting up the pressure on Kiev. The longer the confrontation continues, military considerations increasingly replace expectations of a future relationship.

What Future Generations Must Inherit

My professor’s memories return us to the question of what will remain for those who must live together after the fighting ends? Reconstruction needs security, productive livelihoods and the confidence that what is rebuilt will endure. Children should be able to inherit their families’ memories without inheriting an obligation to continue their conflicts. The generations who built Ukraine’s industrial world suffered immense hardship because they believed that future generations would live better. Honoring that labor means preserving the possibility of such a future.

Reconciliation will take several generations and will require more than just repairing bridges or rebuilding power stations. It will require acknowledging suffering, reconnecting divided families and allowing people to mourn without demanding that their grief conform to an official narrative. A shared past cannot compel forgiveness, but it can serve as a starting point for recognizing humanity across the divide.

Kautilya The Contemplator is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. I will always be grateful for your support.

1 Zbigniew Brzezinski, “The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and Its Geostrategic Imperatives”, New York, Basic Books, 1997), p46.

2 V. I. Lenin, “The Home and Foreign Policy of the Republic: Report of the All-Russia Central Executive Committee and the Council of People’s Commissars,” December 23, 1921, in Collected Works, 2nd English ed., trans. George Hanna, vol. 33 (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1965), 141–81, reproduced in “Ninth All-Russia Congress of Soviets,” Marxists Internet Archive

3 Internet Encyclopedia of Ukraine, s.v. “Five-year plan,” Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies, accessed October 6, 2026.

4 National Museum of the Holodomor-Genocide, “Zaporizhzhia during the Holodomor-Genocide,” May 21, 2025.

5 General Electric, “Инженеры GE помогли осуществить самый знаковый проект СССР 1930х—строительство Гидроэлектростанции ДнепроГЭС” [GE Engineers Helped Implement the USSR’s Most Iconic Project of the 1930s—the Construction of DneproGES], GE News.

6 Vladimir Putin, “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians,” July 12, 2021, President of Russia, http://en.kremlin.ru/events/president/news/66181

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