Shock absorbers may be pessimists, but Americans are not. The notion that complex systems problems can only be managed, not solved, that we must plan for failure and seek to cushion the blows inflicted by inevitable shocks, sits poorly with the optimistic American psyche. The country was founded in a determination to leave behind the conflicts and world-weary cynicism of the Old World. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed nearly two centuries ago, Americans “have all a lively faith in the perfectibility of man … They all consider society as a body in a state of improvement.”1 The American spirit almost instinctively pushes back against the argument that nothing can be done about the Russia problem beyond trying to mitigate dangers, avoid missteps, and contain damage.
One of the characteristics of a wicked problem is that efforts to break the problem down into its component parts and solve them incrementally are counterproductive. Addressing one aspect of the problem makes others worse and often adds new dimensions of difficulty. The United States and Russia have crashed repeatedly into these shoals over the past twenty-five years, declaring a series of relationship “resets” that attempted to build a strategic partnership by focusing on specific areas of cooperation such as liberal reforms or counterterrorism or arms control, only to see the situation continually spiral further into hostility despite each side’s intentions. With each failed reset, the prospects for repairing the relationship have dimmed, cumulatively resulting in great reluctance on both sides to take political risks for the sake of uncertain progress. Domestic circumstances in the United States and Russia are compounding this reluctance. American politics are currently embroiled in domestic political controversies that rule out any high-profile initiatives aimed at better relations with Moscow. And as the end of Putin’s constitutionally limited presidential term approaches in 2024, the Kremlin is growing increasingly focused on ensuring a stable leadership transition, guarding against anticipated American political interference, and insulating itself from attacks by nationalist and communist forces eager to accuse Putin of weakness in dealing with the United States.
The good news is that while the picture is bleak, it is not hopeless. We may not be able to solve our Russia problem, but there are things that we can do to work the system to advance our interests. Just as ill-considered actions can trigger negative feedback loops and cause a damaging cascade of unintended effects, other moves can do the opposite, kicking off virtuous circles of improvement. In a system, the path toward success is often not direct. What can seem to be lateral or even regressive steps can counterintuitively initiate processes that help us to reach desirable destinations not attainable through frontal assaults or incremental moves forward.2 The US deployment of Pershing II missiles in Europe in the early 1980s was decried at the time for stoking Soviet fears of nuclear “decapitation” and heightening the dangers of war, but it helped to initiate a virtuous circle that brought Moscow to the INF negotiating table and eventually led to improved US-Soviet relations. Similarly, the 1975 Helsinki Final Act was painted as “the biggest hoax in postwar history” that would entrench Moscow’s domination of Eastern Europe, but its provisions unexpectedly wound up playing a large role in improving humanitarian conditions, undermining Soviet control in the East, and providing a common reference for improved East-West relations.3 Traversing the long trail up the mountain of US-Russian relations will require some switchbacks, but progress is possible. How, then, might we take some steps in a new direction that help to break out of the escalation cycle in which the United States and Russia are now trapped?
The first step toward improving US-Russian dynamics is to move backward. American and Russian leaders since the early 1990s have repeatedly avowed strategic partnership and cooperation on shared interests as their guiding vision for bilateral relations. A series of American presidencies has tended to focus on what the two sides can agree on, preferring to set aside our nettlesome disagreements for future work at a more opportune time, presumably when the momentum of positive cooperation makes our differences easier to tackle or when leadership change in Moscow makes breakthroughs possible. This approach has failed. To arrest the downward spiral in relations, the two sides should acknowledge candidly that they are competitors and declare that their goal is not to build a partnership but to keep their competition within safe, mutually respected bounds. Rather than focusing on what little we can agree on, we should enumerate our many areas of disagreement and expose our contrasting perceptions.4
Why would such a backward step help? Its biggest virtue is that it both reflects reality and resonates with the domestic politics of both countries. The United States and Russia are not strategic partners, nor is there much remaining desire in either country to pursue this goal given their deep mutual suspicions and their bitter disappointments over the past two and a half decades. Acknowledging this reality keeps expectations for progress sensibly low. It does not require quixotic efforts to change perceptions of the other side’s hostility, as distorted as they may be. It does not make progress contingent on resolving intractable problems that have torpedoed past efforts at cooperation, or on grand bargains that neither side is in a position to consider. And it reduces the temptation to employ economic sanctions as political tools to register our disagreements with Russia. But at the same time, it also forces the sides to reckon with the danger of inadvertent conflict, to make clear that they do not desire war, to lay the groundwork for discussions on how to keep their competition within safe and mutually acceptable bounds.
By contrast, continuing to employ a bottom-up approach to relations will only continue to demonstrate that we have not yet reached rock bottom. Bottom-up approaches require working-level experts in both governments to implement concrete steps to manage or resolve discrete problems, but the reality is that there is little appetite in either the United States or Russian bureaucracy for cooperation or compromise, and much desire for inflicting pain on the other side. Absent a broader agreement on a strategic framework for relations, a focus on reaching a settlement in Ukraine or negotiating a cease-fire in the cybersphere—the two areas of greatest activity and danger in the US-Russian shadow war—would not only fail but might actually set back the cause of improved ties. Conversely, without an understanding on the boundaries of our competition, a focus on bolstering US and NATO deterrent capabilities in Europe and taking the fight to Russia in the information war would only add even more fuel to our escalatory spiral of hostility.
Step two is to look beyond Russia. For systems thinkers, “the more of the context of a problem that a scientist can comprehend, the greater are his chances of finding a truly adequate solution.”5 US-Russian system dynamics operate within a larger set structural and psychological changes under way in the international system that have important implications for bilateral relations. Structurally, the distribution of power in the world is in motion, shifting from a post–Cold War period in which the United States had no peer or even near-peer competitors, toward a more multipolar arrangement. The swift rise of China as an increasingly capable rival to the United States is the biggest factor in this dynamic, supplemented by the assertiveness and deepening cooperation of a number of second-tier states—including Russia, India, and Brazil—that wield uneven mixes of military, economic, global, and regional clout but share varying degrees of concern over unconstrained US power. Japan and the European Union remain influential American partners combining first-rank economies with much more limited military capabilities that may or may not grow over time. The capabilities of third-tier regional players and non-state actors have also grown as globalization and digitalization have facilitated access to advanced technologies. But while its relative power is declining, the United States remains the preeminent player within this increasingly multipolar system, able to project unmatched military firepower across the globe, serving as the world’s unrivaled engine of economic innovation, and maintaining a unique network of partners and allies in all of the world’s regions. The United States still dominates the international financial system despite China’s growing economic heft, although there is increasing frustration with American stewardship.
Not only is the distribution of power within the international system shifting, but the nature of power itself is also changing. Military capability still plays a significant role in the digital age, but these capabilities are flowing more from the development of advanced information technology and automation and less from industrial capacity and troop strength. Mastering artificial intelligence, defending telecommunications networks on the ground and in space, and securing and exploiting data will increasingly separate the world’s leading powers from the also-rans. Advances in machine learning and artificial intelligence are not dependent on large state-funded research organizations or massive financial inputs, however. Small groups of mathematically talented individuals can make enormous strides in artificial intelligence and have disproportionate impacts on national and international security. Climate change, in turn, will have significantly varied effects on countries across the globe. All these factors make international standing more fluid than in the past. Today’s rising power can be yesterday’s news tomorrow.
Psychologically, there is a growing sense around the world that US clout is waning as China’s is rising. Few doubt that American military and economic capabilities remain robust, but many suspect that the United States has lost its dynamism, its sense of purpose, and its appetite for global leadership. Many observers view the United States as mired abroad in numerous unwinnable wars and racked at home by social and political dysfunction. At the end of the Cold War, the American idea was in clear ascent, and it was widely assumed that its model of free markets and individual liberties and popularly elected governments would inexorably spread through the world and bring increasing prosperity and order. But if the American idea were a corporate stock, investors would be shorting it today. America’s rivals have grown increasingly determined to counter its power and influence. Even friends and allies who share US values fret that Washington has been wielding its raw military and economic power profligately, inviting a backlash.
These changing circumstances argue for corresponding shifts in American objectives. Pax Americana is no longer a realistic objective, if it ever was. The goal in dealing with any system in which there is no acknowledged hegemon, there are wide gaps in values and perceptions, multiple peer and near-peer players compete to advance their preferences and assert their prerogatives, and many factors operate beyond the control of any of its participants, must be systemic equilibrium. Aiming for primacy rather than order in such circumstances will produce neither. But that balance need not be—indeed, should not be—solely a balance of power, because such a narrow focus would be blindsided by important moral and psychological factors at work in the system. An aspirational equilibrium that fails to account for both power and values will prove to be no equilibrium at all. The inspiration of high ideals is no less important than the dread of disaster in driving systemic progress.
Broadening our focus allows us to put the troubled US-Russian relationship within the larger context of US objectives in the international system. It proceeds from the premise that our bilateral relations both affect and are affected by world dynamics. How, then, might we look for areas where a step or two in a new direction might have a cascading effect that subtly but significantly improves the workings of the system, reframing perceptions in ways that increase the possibilities for progress toward a balance of power that manages China’s rise and Russia’s assertiveness while also advancing core American values?
One opportunity lies in Central Asia. Putin’s help in establishing American military bases in Central Asia in 2001 was an important indication of his desire for strategic partnership with the United States. Washington’s insistence that these allegedly “temporary” bases would remain firmly in place for an extended period of time, even after the initial American success in driving the Taliban out of power, contributed to Putin’s growing disillusionment with that partnership. This played a small but significant role in poisoning Russian perceptions of American intentions and trustworthiness. The continuing US military presence in the region also served as a unifying factor in cooperation between Russia and China, encouraging them to subsume what might otherwise become a growing bilateral competition for influence in the region to their shared concerns about Washington’s activities. US withdrawal from Afghanistan might not only encourage regional players to take greater responsibility for combatting extremism and maintaining order but also allow the forces of Russian-Chinese rivalry for Central Asian influence to come to the fore. This step might begin subtly to rebalance the triangular US-Russia-China relationship, currently tilted heavily toward cooperation between Moscow and Beijing against the United States. It might also prompt Russia to appreciate anew the role of Washington as an offshore balancer in Central Asia, as Moscow lacks the economic muscle to compete with Chinese dynamism in the region, and the legacy of Soviet-era ties with the Central Asian states is fading.
Another opportunity lies in Europe. As Chinese power waxes and Russian assertiveness grows, Europe must play a key role as a systemic counterweight to establish and maintain international equilibrium. It cannot play that role, however, if fissiparous forces continue to rend NATO and the EU, threatening to hasten European disintegration and trans-Atlantic decoupling. A situation in which Russia sees itself as locked out of European security decision-making, incentivized to exacerbate the continent’s divisions and widen its fissures, reduces the chances that a strong and healthy Europe can play that balancing role. The threat of American disengagement from Europe has a similarly damaging effect, exacerbating divisions on the continent by stoking fears in eastern and northern European states that NATO might not be willing or able to defend them against Russian aggression, while resurrecting old fears of German hegemony.
Within what appear to be discouraging European trends, however, lies potential for gain. Whereas not long ago, both NATO and the EU thought of themselves figuratively as sharks, requiring the forward motion of expansion to sustain their functions in the absence of a unifying external threat, such expansion is no longer viewed as necessary or even desirable. The illusions that Russia can be integrated into European institutions on Western terms—or somehow transformed into a variation of Sweden, a once formidable military power now focused on creating a great standard of living for its people, content to defer to American stewardship of a rules-based international order—have disappeared. Moreover, the appetite in the United States and other NATO members for using the alliance in expeditionary activity has long since dissipated. These changes open the door to new approaches that until recently were impractical.
A renewed NATO focus on its original purpose, collective defense, might produce several advantageous effects. It would reassure Poland, the Baltic states, and other NATO members fearful of Russian aggression that the alliance is committed to their security, and in so doing, reduce intra-alliance tensions. It would also provide a secure basis for sending a balanced message to the Russians about NATO’s intentions, underscoring resolve to defend member states and drawing a firm line against Russian involvement in internal alliance affairs, while at the same time signaling reluctance to stray beyond current NATO borders to add members or undertake out-of-area missions. The corollary to these signals would be that Europe and Russia share an interest in working to contain and manage instability in the unaligned states in between NATO and Russia, to minimize their incentives to seek an alliance that might threaten either side, and to reduce the chances of being drawn inadvertently into direct conflict. Such signals would facilitate bilateral and multilateral discussions of the ground rules for interaction in these in-between states, a prerequisite for any progress in settling the volatile, ongoing conflict in Ukraine and frozen conflicts in Moldova and the Caucasus.
Broadening our focus should include addressing the ongoing dispute over the principles that define legitimate international behavior. Moscow accuses the United States of illegitimate interference in the internal affairs of Russia and other states, of willfully bypassing UN charter requirements for Security Council approval for the use of force against states that have not attacked the United States, and of illegally orchestrating changes to international borders in Kosovo at the expense of Serbian territorial integrity. The West accuses Russia of using force to change borders in Georgia and Ukraine, of aggressive cybermeddling in the internal affairs of Europe and the United States, of flouting international arms control treaties, and of cynically enabling savage violations of human rights. Russia touts the Westphalian order based on respect for state sovereignty; the West highlights the “responsibility to protect” endangered citizens subjected to government abuses.
The suggestion that the West might attempt to find common ground with Russia and other non-Western states on normative issues immediately provokes charges of naïveté. These issues are not open for discussion, the critics contend, having been ably enshrined in the Helsinki Final Act and the Paris and UN charters. The challenge is to administer and enforce these principles, they say, not to debate them. But the reality is that while these principles should not be subject to renegotiation, there always have been inherent tensions between the tenets recorded in these foundational documents. Sovereignty and territorial integrity are relative rather than absolute values. They must be weighed against the importance of defending human rights and allowing for the self-determination of peoples, among other things. Cybertechnology and artificial intelligence have also added new dimensions to the problems of balancing these contending principles. Reconciling these tensions, as a result, requires ongoing discussion, give-and-take, and balance—in other words, a diplomatic process. Pretending that there is a clear and objective formula for striking this balance—or that the United States and NATO should be the sole arbiters of this balancing act—is not only disingenuous but dangerous. Henry Kissinger observed:
Whenever the international order has acknowledged that certain principles could not be compromised, even for the sake of peace, stability based on an equilibrium of forces was at least conceivable. Stability, then, has resulted not from a quest for peace but from a generally accepted legitimacy. “Legitimacy” as here used should not be confused with justice. It means no more than an international agreement about the nature of workable arrangements and about the permissible aims and methods of foreign policy. It implies the acceptance of the framework of the international order by all major powers, at least to the extent that no state is so dissatisfied that, like Germany after the Treaty of Versailles, it expresses its dissatisfaction in a revolutionary foreign policy. A legitimate order does not make conflicts impossible, but it limits their scope.6
Step three is to tend the weeds in our own garden. Ronald Reagan famously advocated dealing with adversaries from a position of strength, a position that facilitates favorable compromises where possible and victorious outcomes where not. Such strength is more than a military or economic matter; it also derives from such intangible factors as self-confidence and societal vitality. George F. Kennan, one of the Marshall Plan’s conceptual fathers, saw the post–World War II Soviet challenge as more psychological than military in nature, and his recommendations for dealing with it tended to be largely political and psychological. He wrote in 1947 that “our policy must be directed toward restoring a balance of power in Europe and Asia,” and that the best means of accomplishing this were “the strengthening of the forces of natural resistance within the respective countries which the communists are attacking.” This natural resistance, however, was threatened by a “profound exhaustion of physical plant and of spiritual vigor.” A long-term aid program in which the aid recipients themselves were responsible for planning and implementation would go far toward restoring self-confidence in Western Europe and Japan, he thought, bolstering their resistance to Soviet political and psychological pressure. “Remember,” he told a National War College audience in 1947, “it is not Russian military power which is threatening us, it is Russian political power.”
Americans have long benefited from the geographic protection of two large oceans, the blessings of abundant natural resources, and a set of inherited political habits and beliefs refined over centuries of British history. In many respects, we are the most secure great power the world has known. Over the course of the past two decades, however, America has transformed from a nation brimming with self-confidence, eager to lead the world and spread its values and system of governance, into a country vexed by societal divisions and political dysfunction, afraid that Russian social media trolling might destroy the foundations of American society. Soviet disinformation campaigns were a constant feature of the Cold War, but the United States typically regarded them as troublesome complications rather than as deadly threats to the nation’s survival, and for the most part it was able to deal with them from a position of strength and self-assurance. But America recently has become infected with an acute sense of internal vulnerability.
The country’s political establishment, for the last 120 years a model of self-assuredness and solidity, has begun to lose self-confidence. The elites’ sagging self-esteem is evident in their bewildered acceptance of the idea that the US democracy is vulnerable to outside meddling and ineradicable suspicion that the elected president and those loyal to him may have colluded with a foreign country. The establishment’s prevalent anxiety that Russian propaganda, in the form of the media outlets RT and Sputnik, little known as they are in the United States, could sway the American public’s attitudes betrays a lack of confidence in the US electorate.7
This lack of confidence is playing an important role in distorting American perceptions of the Russian threat and increasing the dangers of escalatory spirals. Projecting America’s internal problems onto its perceptions of Russia is, in fact, a long-standing Western tendency. In his classic study of US and European views of Russia over the centuries, historian Martin Malia observes that “Russia has at different times been demonized or divinized by Western opinion less because of her real role … than because of the fears and frustrations, or the hopes and aspirations, generated within European society by its own domestic problems.”8 Westerners have too often, he says, “produced our images of Russia out of ourselves.”9 To no small degree, that is as true today as it was during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
Addressing this growing self-doubt will not be an easy matter. It will require grappling with the problems of economic inequality, political partisanship, and societal fragmentation that began plaguing America long before the 2016 election. And looming in the background is a disturbing question: Can America’s deep-rooted political tradition of constrained government meet the new challenges posed by the loss of institutional authority within atomized and disaffected societies, not only in the West but increasingly across the world? The United States defended freedom against the threat of tyranny in the twentieth century. Can it maintain both liberty and order against the threat of dysfunctional governance in the twenty-first?