Reflecting about the forthcoming 2026 NATO Summit

NATO and the Red Lines Trap

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former Under-Secretary-General of the UN

Published on: 3 July 2026, Diário de Notícias, Lisbon

  

Next week, the heads of state and government of 32 countries will gather in Ankara for the Annual NATO Summit. The meeting will take place in a complex international context, marked by new regional crises and historic defence commitments—following the demanding budgetary targets approved last year in The Hague. Added to this is a more intense internal debate on how to respond to a Russia that, in addition to its illegal invasion of Ukraine, threatens Western Europe.

The Clash of Two Visions 

Regarding Moscow, the meeting is expected to reflect the clash between two visions: 

The End of Ambiguity: One side demands an end to NATO's policy of "strategic ambiguity", arguing that the Alliance must draw clear red lines against Russian sabotage.

The Trap of Confrontation:The other warns that doing so means falling into a trap that could drag Europe into a catastrophic confrontation. 

For NATO to respond effectively to the challenges of the coming decade, the summit will have to forge a synthesis: political clarity about the threat we face and the Alliance's role, combined with a deliberate and asymmetrical ambiguity regarding the types of possible responses.

A Defensive Alliance and Sovereign Choices 

Any synthesis must start from a fact so often silenced: NATO is, by treaty, an alliance of collective defence whose founding purpose is the security of its members. It must be made clear that it is not an offensive pact directed against Moscow or any other state. When it participated in operations outside its area, it did so because it considered, rightly or wrongly, that Euro-Atlantic stability was at stake. Experience has taught us, now, that these operations require a demanding political and legal justification. 

The Kremlin has refused to recognize the right of every sovereign state to choose its alliances. By way of example, it should be noted that Finland and Sweden did not join NATO because it was imposed by the Alliance, but rather because their citizens democratically decided that membership would decisively reinforce their security. 

Ukraine's aspiration to closer integration into European and Euro-Atlantic structures is no different—it is a sovereign choice. Russia has no right of veto over the independent decisions of its neighbours. Treating NATO's open-door policy as an act of hostility is not a legitimate attitude; it is an obsolete claim based on the theory of spheres of influence that International Law does not recognize and which the defensive character of NATO contradicts. 

The Limits of Ambiguity vs. The Reality of Deterrence 

The defenders of clarity are right in their diagnosis: ambiguity, when confused with a lack of response, fails. NATO's strategy has consisted of leaving the boundaries of the tolerable undefined. Thus, Moscow seems to have viewed this restraint as hesitation and weakness. Therefore, in recent years, it has intensified its destabilization campaigns against several Western European states, utilizing drones, cyberattacks, naval assets, as well as elimination operations and assassination attempts on European figures and former spies who have taken refuge in the EU and the UK. 

These are not mere incidents in the grey zone. They are hostile acts that, in certain cases, can approach the threshold of war. Refusing to name them can convey the perception that these acts have not yet crossed the political barrier that would trigger a harsher response. Remaining silent to avoid aggravating the situation is false prudence. 

On the other hand, the pragmatists are equally right. Demanding that NATO define public and unequivocal red lines for a hybrid confrontation ignores the fundamental principle of deterrence: a red line only has credibility if member states are prepared to respond, including, as a last resort, with military means, to a deliberate violation. 

If NATO declares that sabotaging critical telecommunications infrastructure constitutes an act of war, what happens the next morning? Responding with military force could trigger a wider conflict. Failing to respond forcefully exposes the red line as a bluff. That outcome would be a disaster, capable of severely compromising NATO's credibility. Strategic ambiguity does not reveal weakness; it provides the flexibility to decide on the most appropriate retaliation and leaves the adversary in doubt as to the limits they must not cross. 

A Path Forward for the Summit 

A strong declaration from the 32 member states—that clandestine operations constitute hostile actions against the security of the allies—will give governments the political mandate to mobilize resources, reinforce infrastructure, and explain to citizens what is at stake. This must reaffirm, in the same breath, that NATO seeks nothing from Russia other than respect for the sovereignty and security of its members. 

The summit will have to focus on three essential political strands: 

1. Strengthening cooperation within NATO.

2. Intensifying the support of the various allied states for Ukraine.

3. Having the courage to take diplomatic initiatives that serve peace. 

At the operational level, certain lines require equal attention: 

- Refining analytical capacity, based on unreserved cooperation with allied intelligence services.

- Increasing maritime surveillance.

- Protecting critical infrastructure.

- Investing substantially in the cyber domain. 

None of this requires NATO to become something different from what it has always been. The Alliance does not need rigid red lines, nor proclamations that force it to choose between escalation and a loss of credibility. It must state, in no uncertain terms, that it does not seek to encircle Russia or threaten its security, but that it will not accept intimidation, sabotage, or subversion as normal instruments of relations between states. Its strength will lie in that equilibrium: political firmness, strategic prudence, and a determination that the adversary can neither measure nor anticipate.

USA and Iran: some comments about a very complex negotiation

 

Power Without Credibility: The Improvisations of the US–Iran Crisis

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General Published on: 26 Jun 2026

Despite their political complexity, contradictions, and turbulence, the ongoing negotiations between the United States and Iran can be assessed positively. Following months of direct combat, a memorandum of understanding has been signed and a framework for a ceasefire established, with Pakistan and Qatar now acting as mediators. However, the crisis remains unresolved, and an objective analysis of its various dimensions reveals important lessons for international relations.

When the US initiated attacks against Iran in close coordination with Israel, they expected a swift resolution and the total surrender of their adversary. The outcome was quite different. Iran retaliated, disrupted traffic in the Strait of Hormuz, and demonstrated that it would not be defeated without imposing significant costs upon its attackers. The elimination of the Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, at the onset of the conflict did not precipitate the collapse of the Iranian regime that Washington had anticipated. The tactic of 'decapitating' the leadership proved fallible, contradicting certain military doctrines. Iran appointed a new leadership and maintained its capacity for resistance.

This demonstrated a failure on the American side to accurately evaluate the context, resulting in a severe impact on the political credibility of the White House—something far more difficult to rebuild than new arsenals. Credibility is not measured by the scale of military offensives. It stems from political coherence, adherence to commitments, and the trust a power inspires—above all, amongst its allies.

The withdrawal of the US from the JCPOA (the 2015 nuclear agreement), the chaotic departure from Afghanistan, and the erosion of pacts in Iraq were not isolated acts. To these, one might add the ambiguities surrounding aid to Ukraine and the future of NATO. All of this forms a pattern—and it is these patterns that other governments study when deciding upon the future of their defence alliances. For the Gulf States, the 2026 conflict confirmed the trend: an alliance with Washington is a matter of convenience and circumstance. These nations are now seeking to diversify their partnerships in order to reduce their strategic exposure. This is the direct consequence of a loss of trust.

The negotiations do not aim to secure a peace treaty. At best, the ongoing discussions will serve to maintain the status quo. For many, this will be perceived as a victory for Iranian strategy. In that event, the fear that kept numerous countries aligned with Washington will be weakened. When governments observe that a superpower presenting itself as the guarantor of their security cannot fully dictate its will to a country such as Iran, they may conclude that the time has come to seek alternatives.

The recent ASEAN summit with Russia in Kazan exemplified this shift. ASEAN member states—including Timor-Leste—signed a comprehensive cooperation plan with Russia extending to 2030, encompassing the realm of regional security. Despite reservations regarding Moscow’s conduct in Ukraine, Southeast Asian nations refused to accept the Western narrative that portrays Russia as a pariah state. The message emanating from ASEAN was unequivocal: they do not intend to subordinate their interests to a Western-led order that they view as increasingly incoherent and self-centred. When the conflict closed the Strait of Hormuz, Asian nations suffered genuine economic losses—and their interests were ignored by Washington.

For China, the lessons are equally apparent. Should Beijing employ its power in the South China Sea or Taiwan in a manner perceived by its neighbours as threatening, it could provoke a reaction akin to that faced by the US—allies becoming increasingly sceptical and reticent. China, much like the US, tends to conflate dominance with leadership. However, dominance imposes submission; leadership generates commitment. And it is commitment that endures.

Russia has realized to its own cost, and by observing the US in the Middle East, that a great power entangled in a protracted conflict suffers reputational damage and loses allies. To counter isolation and preserve influence, it is adopting various initiatives and attempting to forge new alliances—the Kazan summit and operations in the Sahel being prime examples.

There exists, however, an institution created precisely to limit instability and promote cooperation: the United Nations. The UN was born from the recognition that lasting peace cannot depend upon a single power acting of its own accord. A common framework is required—with shared rules, obligations, and consequences. A framework that establishes boundaries and allows the weakest to rely on something more solid than the goodwill and volatile moods of the powerful.

Military actions outside the rules of International Law do not merely damage the reputation of their perpetrators: they undermine the very system intended to ensure peace. Every time a power acts as though its highly subjective reading of the facts overrides universal norms, it weakens the institution upon which everyone relies.

Revitalizing the United Nations is not an idealistic ambition; it is a strategic necessity. It is vital to reiterate this truth. A UN with genuine authority to mediate conflicts and hold great powers accountable is not an obstacle to legitimate interests—it is the only reliable substitute for the continuous cycle of trust erosion that the crisis of 2026 has once again highlighted.

The verdict that emerges for those who observe international relations with a critical and independent mind is this: power exercised without principles, in an improvised manner, is like a disoriented weather vane, incapable of indicating the true course. A peace imposed by force and economic pressure is no peace at all—it is merely an interlude until the next confrontation. Lasting peace rests upon the recognition that all States, however diverse, strong or weak they may be, possess an equal right to security and sovereignty, and that the world must be governed by law, not by the will of the strongest.

Russia and Ukraine: War or Diplomacy?

 

G7 and Ukraine: More War or Investing in Diplomacy?

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published on: 19 Jun 2026

The 2026 G7 summit in Évian once again placed Ukraine at the centre of the agenda. And it followed, essentially, a line already known since 2022: the reaffirmation of support for Kyiv, the condemnation of the Russian Federation, and promises of more weaponry. But this time, the final declaration sounded more like a ritual than a strategy. It was reduced to vague phrases. Behind the façade of cohesion, sanctions, and military commitments, the central question remained unanswered: how to transform support for Ukraine into a strategy that leads to the end of the brutal Russian aggression?

The leaders present praised Ukrainian resilience and promised to bolster arms production, vital for Ukraine's defence, especially air defence. However, the absence of a serious commitment to diplomacy was glaring. A clear statement was missing: peace is not merely a strategic necessity. Diplomacy is the only way out to prevent the situation from worsening and to revive hope in International Law and multilateral mechanisms.

Continuing the conflict indefinitely benefits no one. It drains resources that should be allocated to other urgent challenges and entails tragic human costs, alongside growing material expenditures that are increasingly difficult to mobilize.

The Toll on Nations

• For Ukraine: It is, above all, a threat to the very survival of the State. Each additional day of aggression means a further shattered economy, newly destroyed civilian infrastructure, and less tax revenue to sustain basic services—not to mention the most intolerable cost of all: the continuous loss of human lives. The longer the war drags on, the more difficult the rebuilding of the country becomes.

• For Russia: The continuation of its mistake exacerbates the erosion of its economy and society. The flight of skilled professionals and capital, technological shortages, and the rest, are all hidden behind a "war economy" whose logic is imperialist in nature. Ultimately, it is about ensuring the regime's survival, not the country's security. Industries and services linked to the war and the militarization of the economy have become the engines of GDP and employment. And Russian human losses are incalculable.

• For Europe: The cost is not abstract. The conflict has exposed our external dependencies regarding energy, cybernetics, security, and defence. And it is causing increasing budgetary pressure. Financing our sovereignty and supporting Ukraine's legitimate defence does not come cheap. Extraordinary funds must be found, competing with other priorities, while instability and inflation fuel a growing political fatigue. It is this fatigue that threatens to test the Western bloc's cohesion in the coming years—especially if public opinion begins to ask, quite rightly, what the plans and the timetable are.

The Risk of Escalation

There is yet another cost that rarely enters this accounting: the risk of an uncontrollable escalation. The longer the war drags on, the greater the likelihood of an isolated incident—a disproportionate response—dragging other actors into the conflict. It is precisely this risk that has been exposed in recent days.

While the Évian summit was taking place, a Russian frigate fired warning shots at a British yacht crossing the English Channel. The motive should not be dramatized—the vessel was sailing at a short distance from the frigate, and the shots can be justified as a warning signal to navigation. What matters is the symbolic significance. The incident with the frigate, which is navigating those waters in a back-and-forth manoeuvre intended to provide military protection to the phantom tankers seeking to bypass sanctions, highlights that the Russian frontline can easily expand to Western Europe.

Beyond the Baltic, the Black Sea, and the Arctic, the English Channel has become one of the most sensitive points of strategic friction between the West and Russia. It is the most congested maritime highway on the planet, where any Russian military manoeuvre inevitably intersects with civilian traffic. It now receives coordinated attention from the British and French navies, as well as NATO's naval deployments—but a miscalculation carries a high level of probability. In recent months, alongside NATO, the British and French navies have escalated their alert levels in the Channel in the face of Moscow's provocations: espionage by the Yantar ship in November, submarines in April, and the interception of vessels from the Russian phantom tanker fleet.

The Crossroads

Doubt remains as to whether the summit recognized that the Russian war in Ukraine has reached a crossroads: either it gives way to a negotiation process or it enters a spiral, a self-sustaining cycle where each side interprets the other's actions as a justification to escalate its own response.

Defending peace cannot mean Ukraine's capitulation, nor accepting a vague armistice that would merely freeze the aggression today until an inevitable new Russian invasion tomorrow. Rather, it demands the political courage to create the conditions for a verifiable ceasefire, with security guarantees, international monitoring mechanisms, and a political process capable of leading to a lasting peace.

This mechanism should function as an antechamber for genuine multilateral mediation. For this to be possible, we must articulate a narrative that has hitherto not existed—the clear guarantee that this is not about deciding Russia's internal destiny, but rather about reaffirming the primacy of International Law as the foundation of relations between States.

I must reiterate that diplomacy remains the only alternative to achieve peace. Therefore, I highlight the memorandum of understanding signed this Wednesday between the United States and Iran. It is a positive example, even bearing in mind that its implementation faces a minefield of obstacles:

• The ambiguous dimension of some points in the memorandum;

• US political instability;

• The interests of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, which blatantly profits from the parallel economy created by the sanctions and resists any opening;

• The opposition of regional powers such as Israel, a country that views any concession to Iran as an existential threat.

But the memorandum and the negotiations that ought to follow can be seen as an example by the conflicting parties in Ukraine. Namely, they remind us that time is of the essence: without a concrete plan—a UN mandate, a verification mission, a reconstruction fund, and a timetable for negotiations—we risk perpetuating a conflict that no one can endure indefinitely.

Singapore could be the right place for a mediation between Russia and Ukraine

 The Russian war against Ukraine requires mediation beyond the Euro‑Atlantic framework

Victor Ângelo

Volodymyr Zelensky’s long open letter to Vladimir Putin on 4 June was not a conventional diplomatic initiative. It was another move in a hybrid war with no end in sight. By publicly calling for a ceasefire at the precise moment when Russia’s economic elite and figures from the Global South were meeting in St Petersburg, the Ukrainian president’s primary aim was not to persuade the Kremlin — and it was revealing that he published the letter before delivering it to its addressee, a gesture openly criticised by Putin’s inner circle. Zelensky sought to exploit visible tensions within the Russian system and to remind the international community that Kyiv continues to take the initiative while Moscow remains mired in a devastating war of attrition.

As a political gesture, Zelensky scored points. He again showed that Putin is more concerned with protecting his image and person than with the fate of his people. But wars on this scale do not end because an aggressor suddenly rediscovers the virtues of moderation. They end when military pressure, economic hardship and political isolation reduce the benefits of escalation and compel serious negotiation. The question is not whether Zelensky’s letter was timely. The question is how to turn pressure and stalemate into a mediation process that is not merely a delaying tactic.

In theory, that mediatory role belongs to the United Nations, which in practice has little or no capacity to alter the political calculations of a permanent member of the Security Council.

The alternatives display equally evident limits. Geneva, one of the locations proposed by Zelensky, has its neutrality challenged by Moscow because of Switzerland’s alignment with EU positions. Gulf states are preoccupied with the crises now besetting the Middle East. Turkey — whose mediation capacities were demonstrated in the Istanbul process of March 2022, when negotiations came closest to a result before collapsing — is a NATO member, a geopolitical space the conflict has already outgrown. India has strategic weight but lacks impartiality. New Delhi has consistently shown greater interest in preserving strategic ambiguity than in applying real pressure on Moscow, not least because it has significantly increased imports of Russian oil and purchases of military equipment and components for the development of its civil nuclear energy sector.

A credible host must satisfy four criteria simultaneously. First, political acceptability: it must be accepted, above all, by Moscow and Kyiv, and have political credibility in Washington and Beijing.

Second, legal latitude: the decisions of the International Criminal Court (ICC) cannot be ignored. The host country must provide a clear legal basis to receive senior Russian representatives without undermining the accountability framework the ICC defends.

Third, technical competence: extraordinarily complex issues are at stake — sanctions, frozen assets, security guarantees, reconstruction financing, energy corridors. Peace processes do not fail for want of rhetoric; they fail because guarantees are vague and violations go unsanctioned.

Fourth, structural discretion: public negotiations are fruitless. A host that cannot protect the confidentiality of working sessions will render the process impossible before it begins.

In light of these criteria, I look to Singapore and judge that it deserves more attention than it has received — but the argument requires precision, not mere faith. The country possesses a rare set of institutional conditions that make it a plausible — if not obvious — candidate to coordinate an international mediation.

Indeed, in terms of political acceptability, Singapore simultaneously maintains a strategic partnership with the United States and counts China as its largest trading partner, with decades of functional relations that include discreet channels of communication between Beijing and Western actors. This dual interdependence reveals a substantial capacity to act as a credible interlocutor.

Regarding the ICC, Singapore is not a State party to the Rome Statute. It could also suspend its own sanctions on Russia as an incentive to participate, without compromising the broader architecture of Western sanctions. And it could negotiate with Moscow to be removed from the Kremlin’s list of “hostile countries”. A process of this kind would require concessions that may at first seem unimaginable, but perhaps are not. Curiously, Singapore’s Prime Minister, Lawrence Wong, will visit the Russian city of Kazan next week as part of a Russia–ASEAN summit and will meet Vladimir Putin.

Singapore is one of the world’s major financial and international arbitration centres, with institutional capacity to deal with the most complex aspects of any peace process. Its record also shows it can manage confidentiality, logistics and security for high‑risk events — with exemplary diplomatic professionalism.

Just as Paris, Oslo or Doha became venues for diplomatic processes that transcended their geographic scale, the effectiveness of mediation often depends more on the conditions a host can offer than on its military or geopolitical weight. Singapore would remove the process from the fraught Euro‑Atlantic frame and rewrite it within a genuinely multilateral context.

Intellectual honesty requires recognising the limits. No country can force Russia to negotiate. Mediation will only begin when the Kremlin concludes that prolonging the aggression has become politically and economically unsustainable, and a military disaster. That moment may not be near. But it will come, and it is important to have a prepared and competent diplomatic architecture to initiate mediation.

Singapore would still have to accept the role. Washington, Beijing and other capitals should discuss the option and discreetly sound out the country’s political willingness, as well as the receptivity of Moscow and Kyiv. This mediation, when it occurs, must be handled with great circumspection and originality.

(Published in Portuguese in Diário de Notícias on 12/06/2026)

The Space Geopolitics

Superpowers, creative billionaires, and the dispute over outer space

Victor Ângelo 

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General Published: 5 Jun 2026

Outer space is already a paramount issue in the competition between great powers. Consequently, the deserts of northwestern China, in Xinjiang and Gobi, attract very special attention. Satellite imagery reveals vast military complexes and an extensive network of many dozens, even hundreds, of rocket launch pads, bunkers, and enormous, heavily fortified structures. Built near nuclear silos—which house China’s longest-range intercontinental missiles—this infrastructure aims to guarantee an immediate retaliatory capacity should the country suffer a first strike.

This terrestrial fortress is only half the story. The bunkers excavated in the sand are intimately linked to Chinese surveillance satellites, together forming an integrated ground and space defence system. The assets concentrated in the desert depend directly on their orbital counterparts: the Huoyan-1 early-warning satellites. These "eyes of fire", capable of detecting the infrared signature of enemy missiles immediately after their launch, open a critical three-to-four-minute window, allowing the Chinese chain of command to order the firing of weapons stored in the silos before they can be destroyed.

We are in a different world from the old space race. In the late 1950s and the subsequent decade, the focus was on the national prestige and political image of the US and the USSR. The marathon of space competition has changed. Today, it is a high-speed and high-risk race.

Space is one of the great strategic priorities of the present. Much of what resides in low Earth orbit governs our daily lives: global logistics, financial synchronization, communications, disaster response, and encrypted military operations. The country that masters the technical standards, extracts the first cosmic resources, and controls the orbital infrastructure will obtain an ambivalent power over the global economy and planetary defence, capable of serving human progress as much as military hegemony and a global disaster.

The current space arena is thus a vital geopolitical dispute, marked by four distinct political approaches. Each power runs its own race.

European priorities are concentrated on the development of space infrastructure essential to ensure strategic communications, on the Galileo (GPS navigation) and Copernicus (continuous Earth observation) projects, on the tracking of orbital debris (see the reference to Kessler below), and on research regarding robotic launches. The scarcity of venture capital and fragmentation—every country for itself—are the political issues that need to be resolved.

The United States has consolidated its reliance on public-private partnerships in the aerospace sector. Through the Artemis Accords, Washington seeks to promote international norms that favour free enterprise to maintain its supremacy, leveraging the agility and efficiency of the private sector. Artemis aims to establish a sustained human and robotic presence on the Moon, testing new technologies for the extraction of water and minerals.

China views space through a deeply integrated civil-military lens. For Beijing, it is a strategic domain subject to state control. The Chinese vision constitutes an explicit challenge to US primacy. In this context, China prioritizes the International Lunar Research Station (ILRS), seeking to secure a sovereign infrastructure independent of Western systems. The exploration of the lunar South Pole has become a central objective.

Russia was once a pioneering actor. Today, despite financial constraints and sanctions that limit access to technological components, the space sector continues to be treated as a priority. It retains a highly secretive character. However, it is known to invest primarily in the research and testing of destructive anti-satellite weapons, space-based intelligence, and hypersonic weaponry. This option holds considerable strategic value, both defensive and offensive.

The explosion of space business, operating on an unprecedented financial scale, is another characteristic of our era. The current US dominance is largely driven by private giants such as Jeff Bezos's Blue Origin and, most notably, Elon Musk's SpaceX. By pioneering reusable rockets, SpaceX has drastically reduced launch costs. With a capitalization that already rivals the GDP of major states, the company has rewritten the rules of orbital geopolitics.

These private companies have ceased to be mere service providers. Today, they are central geopolitical actors, wielding enormous economic weight and playing a decisive role in American defence. But, with high economic value comes severe strategic vulnerability. In any potential conflict, the temptation to blind an adversary by destroying their early-warning and communications satellites could be limitless.

An attack of this kind—or even an accidental collision between satellites in orbit—would have devastating systemic effects. There is a risk of triggering the so-called Kessler syndrome: a catastrophic chain reaction in which orbital debris collides with other satellites, generating exponentially more fragments. This would rapidly create a global crisis, with Earth's orbit saturated by high-speed debris directly impacting multiple essential systems. It would not only affect military deterrence: it could compromise the terrestrial economy and provoke a civilizational regression of incalculable consequences.

The 1967 Outer Space Treaty is no longer fit for an era marked by thousands of objects in orbit—a continuously growing number—and by the development of anti-satellite (ASAT) weapons. The Second Space Race, which is currently underway, demands cooperation and far stricter rules—a new treaty. Space cannot be viewed merely as a competition or an extraordinary business opportunity. It is our collective survival that is at stake.

The Bear Meets the Big Brother, the Dragon: Putin and Xi Jinping

 

An Alliance Between Unequal Powers: Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin

Victor Ângelo

Op-ed published in Diário de Notícias on 22/05/2026

 

When Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin meet—as happened once again this week—we witness a highly choreographed geopolitical display, rich in symbolism. They speak of a multipolar world and toast to a ‘new era’ and a ‘no limits’ partnership—the celebrated expression coined during their February 2022 meeting, just days before the launch of Russia’s inadmissible war of aggression against Ukraine. The messages they seek to send to the rest of the planet, particularly to Europe, are highly explicit, and they were repeated this week. First, that China and Russia are bound by an unbreakable alliance, indispensable for constructing the new world order they deem necessary. Second, they intend for this order to differ from the one established in recent decades by the Western world, especially since the era of the Reagan-Thatcher tandem and the period following the end of the Cold War. We are clearly facing a Sino-Russian project to reorder international relations in their own fashion.

 

It is, however, a flawed partnership, an unequal relationship—from an economic perspective, for instance. China is undisputedly the centre of gravity and the primary axis of its neighbour’s economy. It now accounts for between 40% and 45% of Russian imports. This is an overwhelming dependency. Conversely, barely more than 4% of China’s foreign trade is conducted with Russia, according to Bloomberg data. This is an insignificant percentage when compared to the volume of trade between China and other economies, be they the US, the EU, or ASEAN. Furthermore, the Chinese currency, the yuan, is the predominant tender in Moscow’s financial market. The yuan has virtually replaced the majority of transactions previously executed in US dollars, with the remainder settled in roubles.

 

Political inequality compounds this economic disparity. This is the most significant dimension of the asymmetry between the two countries. A tacit hierarchy exists that places the Chinese president at the top. One might say that Xi envisions, proposes, and makes things happen. Putin follows when he can, provided he sees that it does not jeopardise his domestic political image, where he still dictates the law.

 

Xi Jinping intends to be the architect of the new international structure, built with calmness, firmness, and time. He plays without unnecessary haste. He is entirely convinced that, before long, his country will be a rival on an equal footing with the US, and that global challenges will place China at the heart of multilateral responses.

 

Vladimir Putin, for his part, mistook pompous parades for military capability. He ended up bogged down in an intensely draining war, which he made the blunder of initiating with utter disregard for international law and with armed forces that recall the highly doubtful legend of Potemkin villages. Putin continues to believe he is a strategic giant, when in reality Ukraine is laying bare his feet of clay. Putin is likewise a stain on Xi Jinping’s international reputation. Xi finds himself forced to defend him in various political arenas, even though he knows this entails reputational costs for his regime, which wishes to be seen as the champion of peace and multilateral cooperation.

 

Xi’s strategic objectives are essentially twofold. On the one hand, to ensure Chinese dominance in the region defined by the Pacific and Indian Oceans. On the other, to gain the lead regarding the technologies that are shaping the twenty-first century. Achieving this requires time, and it requires China’s main rival powers to remain distracted by other matters.

 

This is where Putin’s political blunders prove to be of immeasurable value to China. Though it is seldom considered, the endless war in Ukraine keeps a significant portion of the strategic capabilities, military resources, and diplomatic attention of China’s main rivals far removed from potential criticism and measures against Chinese domestic and foreign policy. Every crisis meeting at NATO headquarters or in EU capitals represents a tactical distraction for Washington and creates rifts between Europe and the US. All of this allows President Xi to continue the process of economically and politically subordinating Russia, while modernising the People’s Liberation Army and shielding China’s economy against potential Western sanctions. Putin is thus an excellent political distraction.

 

Xi’s greatest anxiety regarding Russia concerns the martial philosophy that continues to prevail in the Kremlin. When Moscow hinted that it might use tactical nuclear weapons in Ukraine, it was Beijing—and not just Washington—that also silently but firmly drew a red line before Putin’s intentions. Xi needs a prolonged and draining conflict that bleeds the West, but he cannot afford to permit or promote an apocalyptic escalation that would destroy the global order upon which China’s rise depends.

 

Consequently, Xi’s support for Russia has strict, albeit undeclared, limits. That is the reality, despite public assertions. China buys Russian oil and gas at a discount, in yuan, and within limits—there was no agreement on the new trans-Siberian pipeline, which deeply disappointed the delegation from Moscow. And it supplies Moscow with ‘dual-use’ goods, including military-applicable items like microchips and drone components. It does so discreetly, but in vast quantities. It denies, however, any accusation of direct lethal military aid. Why? To avoid secondary Western sanctions against its economy, which relies heavily on foreign trade. The ‘architect’ knows that a direct confrontation with the West at this juncture would derail his ambitions and imperil the authority of the Chinese Communist Party.

 

The essential thing is to understand the true nature of the relationship between Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin and to respond to the serious risks it poses. Note the various agreements signed during this visit—for example, in the fields of atomic energy, space, and AI. These matters do not allow for simplistic analysis. China and Russia do not represent the same type of challenge. Yet, despite the asymmetries, a dangerous strategic convergence exists between both regimes.

Commenting on the State of the Union and the crisis in the Middle East (Iran)

 

Opinion Diário de Notícias 

From the State of the Union to Iran: Between Rhetoric and Real Risk

Victor Ângelo

International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General

Published on: 27 Feb 2026

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We live in a society where "doctors" in the most extravagant branches of "Political Science" are proliferating. Many of them provide commentary on television opinion programmes in a manner that is as irrational as it is effective at capturing the largest possible number of viewers. This leads me to wonder whether any of them has ever studied the political thought of Cantinflas, who won a Golden Globe in the field of comedy—a close relative discipline to party politics. Although he passed away in 1993, it seemed appropriate to revisit his interventions in the art of politics and imagine how he would have reacted to the "rigmarole" speech Donald Trump delivered this week on the State of the Union.

Cantinflas was a shrewd man and, as a neighbour to the US by virtue of being Mexican, he would certainly have paid mockingly close attention to the American president’s harangue. I have no doubt he would have been delighted. Trump proved, once again, to be one of his own: an extraordinary orator in a style the Mexican character appreciated—the circular discourse. That is to say, an endless allocution that repeatedly returns to the same themes, as if the speaker were trapped in an arena with no exit.

Trump, in his 2026 State of the Union, dwelt repeatedly on immigration, the success of his administration (particularly in the economy), the incompetence of the Democrats, patriotism, the eight peace deals achieved, and negotiations with Iran. The intentions of the speech were clear: to display brilliance, project power, and sow division. Cantinflas used to say that these are a politician’s primary weapons, to which I would add intrigue. The comedian would have given Trump’s lecture top marks.

He would, however, be concerned regarding Iran. Although Trump speaks of negotiations and claims to prefer a deal—yesterday, a new and strange session of talks took place in Geneva, featuring two American interlocutors and two dozen representatives from Tehran, a contrast that reveals the disparity in expectations—the reality is that we are very close to an armed intervention. I do not know if it is a matter of hours or days, but the signs do not seem to deceive. Benjamin Netanyahu could enlighten us, as he is surely on the inside of the matter.

I have already written in the 6 February edition of the DN that a confrontation between the US and Iran would be "profoundly dangerous and complex." For the region and for various other parts of the globe.

The White House, however, prizes triumphalism over diplomacy. In this regard, it mirrors the dominant position in the Kremlin: the superpowers have ceased to believe in talks. Now, it is about crushing one’s adversaries.

It was not like this during the Cold War, especially in the final decade that ended with Mikhail Gorbachev’s mandate. My generation at the United Nations and in international diplomacy will remember that Gorbachev advocated, when speaking with Washington or in New York, the idea of persistent negotiations and openly criticised any decisions he deemed thoughtless, unbalanced, or dangerous to global stability.

It was through working with people like that, on both sides of the wall, that I learned that to win in the ceaseless quest for respect for International Law, one must be persistent and patient. This message should be reminded to those in charge in Washington regarding Iran. Similarly, it would be relevant to underscore to both the White House and the Kremlin another lesson from the times when agreements reached at the UN and other multilateral forums were respected: it is generally a crass error to underestimate one’s opponent.

At the UN General Assembly in September 2025, Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian guaranteed that his country does not intend to build a nuclear bomb. Words are worth what they are worth and, in politics, they often fail to withstand a sudden gust of wind. For most leaders, good political practice means being skilled in the art of lying through one's teeth. Pezeshkian’s promises certainly do not withstand the vision of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who views the US and Israel as his country’s mortal enemies and the production of missiles—and likely nuclear weapons—as the only salvation for his regime. But the truth is that the regime suffers from a much greater threat: the majority of Iranians want to end the theocratic dictatorship of the ayatollahs, a power that is terribly repressive, antiquated, and unacceptable by the standards of Human Rights.

In a world of courageous people, the United Nations should be trying to promote, tirelessly, an encounter between Donald Trump and Ali Khamenei. A direct dialogue, a face-to-face between the two. It would be difficult, but not impossible. This was one of the lessons we learned from Winston Churchill and many other high-calibre statesmen. Churchill believed in the efficacy of summit meetings. He would be flabbergasted to learn that Trump had sent the poor soul Witkoff and the property investor Kushner to Geneva to discuss the solution to a confrontation that could turn the Middle East and other parts of the world upside down. They are not up to the task. Especially when, on the other side, stands a nation with millenary pride. And one that feels inspired and protected by a divine force. That kind of illusion holds great power.