U.S. President Donald Trump’s embrace of Russia would seem to heighten a threat that has raised alarms in Western capitals for the past year: the alignment of a formidable set of adversaries, including China, Iran, North Korea, and Russia, in a Russian-led “axis of upheaval.” All four countries are revisionist, intent on overturning a global order that they see as stacked against them. The West has feared that, in addition to lending each other economic, military, and political support, these countries may stir conflict whose destabilizing effects the West would struggle to contain. As it breaks from its Western allies and engages Moscow in negotiations over the war in Ukraine, Washington has suggested that one of its goals is to drive wedges between Russia and its partners. That outcome is unrealistic. Russia expects to win in Ukraine sooner or later, with or without a U.S. deal. It will therefore see little reason to cut ties with valued partners just to please Trump—and will be especially reluctant to upset a reliable relationship with Beijing for the sake of one with Washington that may last only until the next U.S. election. If the Trump administration lifts U.S. pressure on Moscow anyway, Russia could end up having both stronger ties with fellow revisionist states and a previously unimaginable degree of tolerance from Washington for its disruptive foreign policies.
But even in a relatively permissive environment, Russia’s appetite for global upheaval has limits. New bursts of conflict will not necessarily work in its favor. Given its finite resources and its preoccupation with Ukraine, Moscow’s ability to shape outcomes to its advantage in other parts of the world is highly constrained. As violence has recently spread across the Middle East, for instance, Russia at first was optimistic that the hostilities would harm its adversaries, but that conflict ended up weakening Moscow’s position because it exposed the vulnerability of one Russian partner, Iran, and culminated in the downfall of another, the regime in Syria. Russia’s reliance on partners other than China, Iran, and North Korea has also restricted its troublemaking. Its need to keep stable relations with India and Saudi Arabia in particular has softened its aggressive impulses, and Moscow’s desire to avoid upsetting countries in the global South has compelled it to navigate multilateral diplomatic forums, such as BRICS and the United Nations, with some caution.
These constraints will be strongest while Russia continues to wage war in Ukraine, but they will persist in some form after a potential settlement, too. Where it can control the consequences of its meddling, Moscow will likely determine that the benefits outweigh the risks. But where its interference could escalate into a full-blown conflict that demands Russia’s military engagement, Moscow may exercise more restraint. In practice, this means that Russia will almost certainly step up its disinformation campaigns and acts of sabotage (such as cyberattacks and vandalism of infrastructure) in Europe, sensing in the United States’ apparent desire to retreat from the continent an opportunity to further erode NATO cohesion. But Russia’s aversion to military entanglement should inhibit it from causing upheaval on the Korean Peninsula, in the Middle East, and even in the African countries where it maintains a security presence. After facing some opposition to its revisionist agenda in multilateral forums, Moscow may also reassess its diplomatic strategy, based in part on how much havoc the United States itself will wreak in those institutions.
Russia is playing a long game, and it knows it needs to pick its battles, especially if the unexpected tailwind from the White House turns out to be temporary or tempestuous. If the countries still committed to countering Russian disruption are to do so effectively in this new, uncertain era, they, too, will need to assess carefully where and when to enter the fray—starting with the increasingly imperiled European front.
TOO MUCH CHAOS
Simultaneous conflict in different parts of the world is generally assumed to benefit revisionist powers at the expense of the West. The reason is the reliance of many Western countries on the United States for their defense: Washington carries the unique burden of extending nuclear deterrence and other forms of security assurance to allies and partners primarily in Asia and Europe. Given the United States’ multilayered commitments, collective Western resources could be stretched thin if the United States is drawn into multiple crises at once. Now that the United States’ willingness to help is in question, U.S. partners may be more concerned than ever about mounting defenses on multiple fronts. Less appreciated is the reality that Russia and its partners face constraints of their own, which could curb their interest in seeding conflicts.
Take the recent wave of hostilities in the Middle East. After Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, Russia initially seemed to welcome the distraction from its war in Ukraine. As Israel started fighting in Gaza and then began to take on the Iranian-backed Hezbollah militia in Lebanon and fend off attacks from both Iran and the Houthis in Yemen, the United States moved Patriot missile batteries and other weapons to the region. Washington also spent considerable diplomatic effort pushing for cease-fire negotiations in Gaza and, later, Lebanon. Moscow, on the other hand, did little to try to calm the metastasizing tensions. It seemed that the extra pressure the conflicts put on finite Western air defenses, as well as the rest of the world’s rising resentment of the double standard they perceived in the West’s responses to wars in Gaza and Ukraine, would only benefit Russia.
Russia will see little reason to cut ties with valued partners just to please Trump.
But the turbulence in the Middle East has proved too intense and unpredictable for Moscow to reliably steer in a favorable direction. As its partner Iran was weakened by proxy and direct confrontations with Israel, Russia offered no meaningful assistance. Iran’s attacks on Israel in April and October 2024, which yielded minimal physical damage and casualties, showed its missile capabilities to be less formidable than was previously thought. Israel’s retaliatory strikes, especially the one in October, then impaired Iran’s missile production and air defenses. Israel’s campaign against Hezbollah diminished that group’s strength, too, which in early December helped rebel forces in Syria topple Bashar al-Assad’s regime, an ally of both Moscow and Tehran.
Assad’s ouster in particular exposed the limits of Russia’s appetite and ability to shape events in far-flung theaters. In the months leading up to the Syrian regime’s collapse, Moscow, which has maintained a military presence in Syria since 2015, stepped up its patrols near the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights in the southwest and intensified its bombardments in Idlib Province in the northwest to prevent the anti-Assad rebels from moving against the regime and deter Israel and Turkey from exploiting the turmoil to advance their own aims in Syria. But when the rebels commenced their lightning offensive in late November, Russian forces largely stood aside. Preoccupied with Ukraine, the Kremlin had neither the military resources nor the willingness to save its Syrian ally.
Ultimately, the recent spate of conflict in the Middle East eroded Russia’s strategic position. Moscow could not or would not intervene decisively on behalf of its partners in the region, and it lost influence there as a result. Far from meaningfully enabling each other’s disruptive activities, Russia and Iran have been concentrating on their own fights and are therefore limited, at least in the short term, in the assistance they can provide elsewhere.
THE FRIEND OF MY ENEMY
Moscow has also been forced to balance the disruptive thrust of its foreign policy with a concern for the interests of partners that do not subscribe to the revisionist aims it shares with China, Iran, and North Korea. These “reformists” include powerful non-Western countries that want to update the rules ordering global governance but still want the existing international system to function; they seek good relationships with the West and prefer stability over upheaval.
For Russia, it is particularly important to remain on good terms with India and Saudi Arabia. India is Russia’s largest buyer of oil and its second-largest supplier of dual-use goods—those valuable for both military and commercial purposes—and the two countries maintain a strong defense-industrial relationship. Saudi Arabia, meanwhile, is Russia’s principal interlocutor in OPEC, which has significant influence over global oil markets. (Russia participates in OPEC+, which includes OPEC members as well as other oil-producing countries.) Oil and gas revenues support about a third of Russia’s state budget and are therefore crucial to its ability to prosecute the war in Ukraine; Moscow can ill afford a large drop in oil prices. Saudi Arabia itself may have little desire to see oil prices decline, but it may also face pressure from the United States: Trump suggested in a speech at the World Economic Forum in January that he could “ask Saudi Arabia and OPEC to bring down the cost of oil” to force an end to the war. If the Kremlin and the Saudi leadership remain on good terms, they both strengthen their bargaining position vis-à-vis Washington.
Rather than going all-in on collaboration with the “axis of upheaval,” Russia has calibrated its policies to account for its reformist partners’ concerns about other axis members. When Russia considered transferring weapons to the Iranian-backed Houthis last summer, for example, Saudi Arabia—which considers Iran a rival—pressured Moscow to abort the plan. In December, media outlets reported that Russia was discussing an agreement to sell India the advanced Voronezh radar system, which would help the Indian military monitor the airspace over China, with which India shares a contested border.
Catering to the needs of the reformist camp is also central to advancing Russia’s ambitions as a global player. Russia claims that it is leading what it calls the “world majority” in an effort to overcome disproportionate Western influence in global affairs. During Moscow’s term as the chair of BRICS last year, Russian officials organized hundreds of meetings and working groups covering a variety of issues, from nuclear energy to health, to advance this agenda. But Brazil and India have pushed back against Russia’s (and China’s) attempts to use BRICS to undermine the West and the institutions associated with it. Speaking at the BRICS summit in Russia last October, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, for instance, warned that the bloc should not present itself as an “alternative to global organizations.” Russia softened its rhetoric at the summit, with President Vladimir Putin offering assurances that BRICS would not become an “anti-Western alliance.”
Russia’s willingness to use other multilateral institutions to stir up trouble is similarly constrained. As a permanent member of the UN Security Council, Russia can veto initiatives brought by Western members, and it has been increasingly willing to do so since 2022. But Moscow has, at times, limited its disruptive behavior to avoid pushback. Last June, it abstained from a UN Security Council vote on a U.S.-sponsored cease-fire plan for Gaza, recognizing that Arab states supported the plan and would be angered by a Russian veto. Moscow was less tactful at the UN Summit of the Future in September, however, drawing criticism from Mexico and several African countries when Russian diplomats tried to derail the summit’s final agreement, called “the Pact for the Future,” all while claiming their intent was to protect the “aspirations of the global South” from the “collective West.” Russia’s disruption backfired spectacularly, with only six other countries supporting the move to defer adoption of the agreement, while 143 states rejected it and 15 abstained. A chastened Moscow may choose to proceed more cautiously in future multilateral negotiations.
CONTROLLED UPHEAVAL
Russia, enabled by its fellow revisionists, will continue to foment global instability. But not all upheaval is desirable upheaval, so Moscow will focus on opportunities that it expects will deliver strategic gain. In Europe, where Russia has for years been attacking civilian and military infrastructure and interfering in domestic politics, the Kremlin has likely already factored potential blowback into its strategy. Worse, Moscow may see the Trump administration’s regular rebukes of its European allies and embrace of antiliberal forces on the continent as an invitation to meddle even more. The Russian activities designed to incrementally erode European unity will not just continue but eventually will likely increase. In vulnerable states wedged between NATO’s eastern flank and Russia, such as Moldova, Moscow may also see a benefit to sowing deeper chaos, encouraged by Washington’s apparent disinterest in that region. Russia tested the waters in January by cutting off gas supplies to the breakaway territory of Transnistria, hoping to create a crisis for Moldova’s pro-European central government.
But in other parts of the world, Russia may see fewer upsides to fueling trouble, as it needs to both consider its resource constraints and account for the unpredictability of the Trump administration. If Iran crossed the nuclear threshold, for instance, Israel (and possibly the United States) would likely respond with military action, resulting in a war that could expose Russia’s impotence—Moscow would be unable and unwilling to intervene in Iran’s defense, which would risk direct confrontation with Washington—and destabilize the broader Caucasus region to its south. Moscow, therefore, is unlikely to help Tehran acquire an operational nuclear arsenal. Russia has elevated its defense partnerships with both Iran and North Korea, but it does not want to be drawn into their wars—not while it is still fighting in Ukraine, and probably not thereafter, either. In the Sahel, too, Russia has been recalibrating its military role. Russia’s Africa Corps, a state-controlled mercenary force that has replaced the Wagner paramilitary group in most countries where the latter operated, has been keen to focus on training local militaries rather than engage in the types of high-risk missions that Wagner forces used to conduct. Moscow is aiming to establish additional security partnerships in Africa, which would enhance Russia’s position on NATO’s southern flank. But escalating conflict could jeopardize that goal because it could create demand for more Russian manpower and resources than Moscow is willing to deploy.
Russia will likely continue to adjust its positions in multilateral diplomacy, too. It will champion BRICS and other forums that sidestep the West, but it will likely soften its anti-Western agenda in order to maintain good relations with Brazil, this year’s BRICS chair, and India, which Putin is planning to visit this year. Russia may accept that progress on practical issues, such as creating a global payment system that circumvents U.S. financial institutions or establishing measures to facilitate international trade using local currencies, will require a measured approach to secure support from Brazil, India, and other major players. That said, Moscow could also find that it enjoys more and more latitude to sabotage global governance in the years ahead, since Trump’s open disdain for multilateralism makes unilateral Russian actions look less aberrant. And the Trump administration’s new penchant for alignment with Russia—earlier this week, the United States sided with Russia in two UN votes to mark the third anniversary of the Russian invasion of Ukraine—could create opportunities for Russian diplomats to exploit fissures in the Western camp, even as they take care not to antagonize Washington or Russia’s reformist partners.
PICK YOUR BATTLES
Russia will not negotiate away its alignment with other revisionist powers, so Europe and its partners will need to grapple with the ways that these relationships complicate their decisions about which threats to prioritize and how to allocate resources. There are many points of potential conflict. But it is neither accurate nor helpful to assume that Russia is stoking upheaval everywhere and all at once. An effective and sustainable counterstrategy must recognize the constraints Moscow is operating under and focus Western efforts accordingly.
In Europe, there is a high probability that Russian interference will escalate. The coming waves of arson, assassination, and disinformation require immediate attention. European countries not only must impose costs on Russia for hybrid measures by tightening sanctions enforcement; they may also need to acquire the tools to respond to cyberattacks in kind. They must prepare for worse, too: Russia could eventually use carefully calibrated military force against a European NATO member if it perceived the alliance as too militarily weakened and politically divided to respond effectively. Although Russia’s activities in Africa are not as immediate a threat to Europe, European countries should be working to prevent a further consolidation of Russia’s military presence on NATO’s southern flank. In particular, they should try to impede Russia’s plans to move the logistical structures it had previously based in Syria over to Libya, which serves as the new hub for Africa Corps operations. Current efforts to try to drive a wedge between Moscow and Libyan National Army Commander Khalifa Haftar, who controls the parts of Libya that house Russian military assets, will not suffice. Europe and its partners also need to reengage in the hard and unglamorous work of encouraging inclusive governance in Libya. To curb Russia’s inroads elsewhere, they should offer security cooperation to African partners or, recognizing their own resource limitations, encourage other countries with a growing presence on the continent—such as Turkey and the Gulf states—to play stabilizing roles.
There is a high probability that Russian interference will escalate in Europe.
Beyond Europe and Africa, the direct threat that Russia poses to the West is limited, at least for now. Russia’s defense cooperation with China, Iran, and North Korea is certainly a problem because it will enhance the military capabilities of all four. But Russia is not the primary source of instability in most parts of the world. Still, Europe and the United States should continue to work closely to enforce sanctions and export controls that prevent Russia and its partners from cooperating to develop highly sensitive technologies. They must also continue to engage with countries that can help prevent dangerous forms of cooperation—Saudi Arabia, for instance, may be able to keep Russia from transferring long-range offensive weapons to Iran or the Houthis. It is less urgent to consider the potential for Russia participating in wars on the Korean Peninsula or in the Middle East. The possibility of Chinese-Russian alignment leading to extreme forms of wartime collusion, such as the use of tactical nuclear weapons by both countries in simultaneous conflicts, may seem to be an even more distant and unlikely prospect, but if such scenarios were to unfold, the consequences would be catastrophic enough that Western defense planners must consider how to handle such opportunistic aggression.
In multilateral institutions, taking the wind out of Russia’s sails requires Western countries to work to meet the legitimate demands of countries in the global South calling for more inclusive global governance. The International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and the UN Security Council all have imbalanced representation that must be addressed, however difficult such reform may be. Estrangement between members of BRICS and the G-7 only sweetens Russia’s appeals for an anti-Western bloc, so preventing further alienation will be key. The G-20 can serve as a bridge between the two groups of countries—which makes the Trump administration’s decision to skip the group’s foreign ministers’ meeting in South Africa last week all the more dangerous. The U.S. administration has already exited several UN bodies, and should its disinterest in multilateralism prove durable, European and like-minded countries such as Australia, Canada, and Japan will have to fill the vacuum, providing political leadership, covering shortfalls in resources, and lending organizational support. If they fail to step up, Russia could seize the opportunity to further erode the appeal of these global institutions.
The second Trump administration is itself a source of upheaval—in global governance, for Europe, and for many other U.S. allies. For Russia, the United States’ reorientation brings some uncertainty, but more opportunity. The structural limitations on Russia’s capacity to use turmoil to its advantage in far-flung theaters will likely endure. And if Trump, as the new sheriff in town, occasionally decides on a whim to impose law and order, the results may not always be to Russia’s liking. But Trump’s apparent retreat into nineteenth-century-style spheres-of-influence thinking may also give Russia greater latitude to intensify its interference in Europe—and Europe and its partners must come armed with an accurate assessment of both the likely targets and the likely limits of Moscow’s disruptive efforts if they are to navigate the coming upheaval.
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