The German government responded with considerable scepticism to Russian President Vladimir Putin’s comments on a possible end to his war on Ukraine and potential mediation by former German chancellor Gerhard Schröder.

Government sources in Berlin said on Sunday they had taken note of the comments, calling these part of a series of token offers that are part of Russia’s well-known hybrid strategy. “But Germany and Europe will not allow themselves to be divided by this,” they added. Russia has not changed its conditions, so the option of negotiations was not credible, the sources said. “A first test of credibility would be for Russia to extend the ceasefire.”

Both sides had agreed to a ceasefire until Monday, May 11, under the mediation of US President Donald Trump.

Europe and the US have well-coordinated negotiating teams, the German government sources said. Ukraine, together with the E3 group – comprising Germany, France and the UK – is always available for talks. “Europe must be at the table. But the conditions must be right for that.”

The comments came after Putin said that while Washington had tried to mediate, he could imagine the former German leader acting as a mediator on the European side. “Of all European politicians, I would prefer talks with Schröder.”

Putin also said he thought the war was drawing to a close, as he addressed an extraordinary press conference following Victory Day celebrations in Moscow on Saturday.

The Kremlin launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 but has yet to achieve its goals.

In response to a question from dpa, Schröder’s office said there would be no comment from the former chancellor, who has been widely criticized for continuing his links with Putin.

Putin emphasized that a peaceful solution to the long-running conflict was for Ukraine and Russia to find. “But if someone would like to help, we would be grateful,” he said.

Schröder, 82, a centre-left politician who served as German chancellor between 1998 and 2005, has been a controversial figure for years because of his friendship with Putin and his role in Russian energy concerns.

In a newspaper editorial earlier this year, Schröder described the Russian invasion as contrary to international law, though he said, “I’m also against demonizing Russia as the eternal enemy.” He backed restarting imports of Russian energy.

Schröder took up a significant role in Russian energy companies directly after leaving German politics.

At the press conference, Putin said he was prepared to hold direct talks with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, but added: “Whoever wants to meet me must come to Moscow.”

A meeting at another location would have to be preceded by a long-term peace agreement. Zelensky has ruled out travelling to Moscow.

As the war launched by Vladimir Putin following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 enters its fifth year, one longstanding assumption about modern conflict appears both confirmed and confounded. Conventional wisdom suggests that the longer a war drags on, the more public enthusiasm fades. Economic strain deepens. Casualties accumulate. Fatigue sets in. And yet in Russia, public opinion appears suspended in a peculiar state of ambiguity.

Recent polling suggests that just over half of Russians expect the war to end in 2026. At the same time, a majority say that if negotiations fail, Moscow should escalate with greater use of force. This combination — cautious expectation of closure paired with rhetorical support for escalation — captures the enigma of Russian public sentiment in 2026. It is neither fervently mobilized nor openly rebellious. It is neither fully supportive nor visibly collapsing.

Sanctions and the “Social Contract”

From the earliest days of the conflict, Western governments designed their strategy around an assumption: that economic sanctions would eventually undermine domestic support for the war. The theory was straightforward. Putinism, analysts argued, rested on an implicit social contract. The Russian public would accept political passivity in exchange for stability, rising living standards and the freedom to live private lives largely untouched by state intrusion.

That contract appeared under strain even before 2022. Since Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014, sanctions and structural economic weaknesses had slowed growth. Living standards stagnated. Regional inequality widened. Demographic decline continued.

When the full-scale invasion began, many Western policymakers believed that exclusion from European markets, capital flight and technological isolation would gradually erode public tolerance. Four years later, the results are mixed.

Military spending has tripled. Defense industries hum at full capacity. War-related production has masked underlying economic fragility. Reserve funds have been drawn down to stabilize the currency and support social spending. Yet beneath this surface stability, pressure is mounting. Inflation eats into household budgets. Skilled labor shortages grow. Consumer choice narrows. The middle class feels squeezed.

Still, the predicted public backlash has not materialized in a visible or organized way.

One flaw in the “social contract” thesis is that it tends to treat Russian citizens as primarily economic actors. It assumes that support for the Kremlin hinges chiefly on material well-being. But ideology matters.

Putin’s narrative — often summarized as a pledge to restore Russia’s greatness, sovereignty and global stature — resonates with a segment of society shaped by post-Soviet dislocation and resentment toward the West. Since 2022, state messaging has framed the war not merely as a territorial dispute but as a civilizational confrontation.

Official approval ratings for Putin have remained above 80 percent throughout much of the conflict. In authoritarian contexts, such figures must be treated cautiously. Fear, conformity and social desirability bias all influence responses. Yet dismissing all support as fabricated would oversimplify reality. Some of it is genuine.

The “rally around the flag” effect — a phenomenon observed globally during wartime — appears to have occurred after both the 2014 annexation of Crimea and the 2022 invasion. The surge in approval may reflect authentic patriotism, reactive solidarity in times of crisis, or a pragmatic recognition of the risks of dissent.

In today’s Russia, disentangling these motivations is nearly impossible.

Independent polling faces formidable obstacles. Laws penalizing the “discrediting” of the armed forces and the spreading of “fake news” create an atmosphere of caution. In such an environment, refusing to answer or giving a socially acceptable response becomes a rational strategy.

The Levada Center, widely regarded as one of Russia’s more independent pollsters, continues face-to-face interviews, though response rates are low. Online surveys attempt demographic balance but cannot eliminate self-censorship. Reported support for the “special military operation” typically ranges between 60 and 70 percent.

Ethnographic research complicates the picture further. Field researchers embedded in provincial towns often report not fervent nationalism but muted acquiescence. Many citizens avoid political discussions entirely, retreating into private life — a practice sometimes described as “internal emigration.”

This phenomenon has historical precedent. During the late Soviet era, large segments of society disengaged from official ideology while maintaining outward conformity. The system endured for years despite widespread cynicism — until it did not.

There is no shortage of vocal war supporters. Pro-war military bloggers, nationalist commentators and state television personalities dominate public space. Their visibility, however, reflects state permission as much as grassroots momentum.

One way to assess genuine enthusiasm is to examine behavior rather than words.

If support were deeply passionate, recruitment centers might be overwhelmed. They are not. Instead, the state relies heavily on financial incentives. Volunteers are offered high salaries relative to regional incomes. Prison recruitment programs have supplemented manpower. Coercive mobilization and administrative pressure fill gaps.

Simultaneously, hundreds of thousands of men have avoided conscription by leaving the country, exploiting legal exemptions or staying off official registries. Emigration waves following mobilization announcements suggest limits to public willingness to sacrifice.

Symbolic participation reveals similar patterns. The “Z” symbol — shorthand for support of the war — dominates official billboards and state-sponsored events. Slogans like “Za pobedu” (“For victory”) appear in public spaces. Yet privately displayed symbols have largely vanished. Few homes or personal vehicles display overt signs of enthusiasm.

Humanitarian aid drives for soldiers are often organized through schools, workplaces and churches. Participation frequently reflects social pressure rather than spontaneous activism. Many participants frame their involvement as supporting individual soldiers — sons, brothers, neighbors — rather than endorsing the broader war.

The distinction is subtle but important.

Cultural consumption offers another lens. If society were swept by militaristic fervor, patriotic music and propaganda films might dominate charts and streaming platforms. Instead, Russian music rankings are filled with songs about romance, heartbreak and personal introspection.

Jakone’s melancholic “Eyes As Wet As Asphalt” sits alongside lighthearted tracks celebrating fashion staples like hoodies. A Bashkir folk song unexpectedly became a streaming hit. Escapism, not militarism, appears to define popular taste.

Book sales tell a similarly complex story. George Orwell’s “1984,” with its depiction of surveillance and authoritarian control, has surged in demand. Viktor Frankl’s Holocaust memoir “Man’s Search for Meaning,” an exploration of suffering and moral responsibility, also ranks high. Readers appear to be seeking frameworks to understand trauma and power — not celebrating conquest.

State-backed cultural products often struggle. The dystopian film “Tolerance,” portraying Western moral decay, failed to capture wide enthusiasm. Meanwhile, streaming audiences gravitated toward “Heated Rivalry,” a romantic drama centered on a same-sex hockey relationship — hardly aligned with official narratives about traditional values.

The Kremlin’s campaign to promote conservative family norms faces demographic headwinds. Divorce rates remain high. Birth rates continue to decline. Social realities resist ideological engineering.

One reason public opposition remains muted may be the Kremlin’s strategy of partial insulation. Unlike total wars of the 20th century, the conflict in Ukraine has not required full-scale societal mobilization. Daily life in major cities retains a semblance of normalcy. Restaurants operate. Shopping malls function. Domestic tourism thrives.

By avoiding mass conscription and hiding casualty figures, the state limits visible costs. Financial compensation for families of fallen soldiers cushions economic blowback. For many Russians, especially in urban centers, the war remains geographically and psychologically distant.

This managed distance allows rhetorical support for escalation to coexist with personal disengagement. Survey respondents can endorse tougher measures in theory while hoping privately that such measures will not disrupt their own lives.

It is a precarious equilibrium.

Observers often describe Russian society as divided into three broad groups: a small minority opposed to the war; a slightly larger minority enthusiastically supportive; and a silent majority that passively goes along.

This middle segment — pragmatic, apolitical, cautious — forms the backbone of regime stability. Its support is shallow but sufficient. It does not organize protests. It does not challenge narratives. It prioritizes stability.

Yet passive acquiescence is not the same as deep conviction. It can endure for years, sustained by habit and fear. But it may prove brittle if confronted with sudden shocks — economic collapse, mass casualties, elite fractures or visible military defeat.

The late Soviet Union offers a historical analogy. In the 1980s, official propaganda and lived reality diverged sharply. Public rituals continued. Approval ratings remained high. Yet beneath the surface, cynicism accumulated. When political openings emerged, the system unraveled with surprising speed.

Today’s Russia is not the Soviet Union. The state has learned from past collapse. It controls media tightly, suppresses opposition swiftly and calibrates repression to avoid mass backlash. Digital surveillance tools enhance oversight.

Nevertheless, the gulf between the Kremlin’s triumphant narrative and the everyday experiences of ordinary citizens persists.

The war’s fifth year finds Russia in a state of suspended tension. Casualty figures — though officially minimized — circulate through informal networks. Economic adaptation masks stagnation but does not eliminate it. Younger generations navigate a world of restricted travel and cultural isolation.

Gen Z Russians, raised in a relatively globalized era, face a narrowing horizon. Many are apolitical, focused on careers and relationships. Others quietly resent restrictions. Few openly challenge the state.

In provincial towns, military funerals have become familiar rituals. Compensation payments bring short-term relief to struggling families but cannot replace lost lives. Conversations about the war often occur in whispers, if at all.

The result is a society neither mobilized nor rebellious — a society waiting.

For Putin, ambiguity works. As long as no mass anti-war movement emerges and approval ratings remain high, he retains maneuvering space. Escalation can be framed as strength. Negotiation can be framed as pragmatism. The narrative is flexible.

But the durability of this arrangement depends on continued insulation. Should mobilization broaden, casualties spike dramatically or economic stability falter, passive consent could erode.

Western policymakers who once anticipated rapid domestic backlash must reckon with a more complex reality. Sanctions alone have not fractured public support. Ideology, repression, adaptation and apathy combine to sustain the status quo.

At the same time, the absence of visible protest should not be mistaken for enthusiastic endorsement.

As the conflict moves deeper into its fifth year, the Russian public’s attitude remains layered and contradictory. Many expect an end soon. Many say escalation is necessary. Many avoid discussing politics altogether.

The Kremlin’s version of reality — a nation united in existential struggle — coexists uneasily with everyday life marked by consumer concerns, personal aspirations and quiet coping strategies.

History suggests that such dissonance can persist for long periods. It also suggests that when change comes, it can arrive abruptly.

For now, ambiguity prevails. Putin governs a society that appears stable yet subtly strained, supportive yet weary, compliant yet inwardly detached. Whether this balance can endure another year — or another five — remains one of the central unanswered questions of the war.

What is clear is that beneath the surface of polling numbers and patriotic slogans lies a more fragile foundation than official narratives imply. And in that fragility resides both the resilience and the vulnerability of contemporary Russia.

Ukraine’s foreign intelligence service has warned that Russia is likely to stage a false flag attack either inside its own territory or in Ukrainian regions under Russian occupation, in an attempt to derail ongoing peace efforts mediated by U.S. President Donald Trump.

In a statement released on Friday, Ukraine’s Foreign Intelligence Service (SZRU) said it had observed signs of a mounting Kremlin disinformation campaign that could soon escalate into a violent provocation with mass casualties. The warning comes amid fragile diplomatic contacts aimed at exploring a potential ceasefire or broader settlement to the nearly three-year-old war.

“We predict with high probability a transition from manipulative influence to the [Russian Federation] special services’ armed provocation, resulting in significant human casualties,” the intelligence service said.

According to the statement, Ukrainian intelligence believes the Kremlin may be preparing to stage an attack on a location of high symbolic value, such as a religious site, in the days leading up to Russian Orthodox Christmas on January 7. The alleged aim would be to shock public opinion, inflame nationalist sentiment inside Russia, and accuse Kyiv of terrorism, thereby undermining peace talks.

“The location of the provocation may be a religious building or other object of high symbolic significance both in [Russia] and in the temporarily occupied territories of Ukraine,” the agency warned.

Kyiv has already accused Moscow of spreading false claims about an alleged Ukrainian drone attack targeting the residence of Russian President Vladimir Putin. Ukrainian officials say that accusation was fabricated to cast doubt on Kyiv’s intentions and disrupt diplomatic momentum encouraged by Washington.

The latest warning suggests Russia could go further by staging a high-casualty incident and attempting to blame Ukraine using physical evidence planted at the scene. The intelligence service claimed that Russian operatives may deploy Western-made drones, allegedly brought from the battlefield, to support the narrative that Ukraine — and by extension its Western allies — were responsible.

Such tactics, the agency said, align with a long-standing pattern of Russian security service operations. “Such operations are consistent with the modus operandi of Russian special services,” the statement read. “Putin’s regime has repeatedly used this tactic within the [Russian Federation], and now this same model is being exported abroad.”

Ukrainian officials have long accused Moscow of using deception, provocation, and information warfare as core elements of its military and political strategy, both domestically and internationally. The warning also reflects Kyiv’s concern that Russia may seek to exploit sensitive religious dates to maximize emotional impact and political leverage.

The intelligence service explicitly referenced the 1999 apartment bombings in Moscow, Buynaksk, and Volgodonsk as a historical precedent. Those attacks killed more than 300 people and injured over 1,000, and were officially blamed on Chechen militants. The bombings were used by the Kremlin to justify launching the second Chechen war and significantly boosted Vladimir Putin’s popularity ahead of national elections.

While Russian authorities have consistently denied any state involvement in those attacks, critics and independent investigators have long questioned the official narrative, pointing to alleged links between the bombings and Russia’s security services.

The current warning comes at a sensitive moment in the war, as battlefield dynamics remain fluid and diplomatic channels are under renewed scrutiny. President Trump has positioned himself as a potential broker of peace, urging both sides to consider negotiations, though neither Moscow nor Kyiv has publicly committed to substantive concessions.

Ukrainian officials say Russia has a strong incentive to sabotage talks that could limit its military objectives or expose internal divisions. By portraying Ukraine as a terrorist threat, they argue, the Kremlin could justify continued escalation and harden domestic support for the war.

Russia has not commented on the Ukrainian intelligence allegations. In the past, the Kremlin has dismissed similar claims as “provocations” or “information warfare” by Kyiv.

As Orthodox Christmas approaches, Ukrainian authorities say they are sharing intelligence with international partners and urging vigilance, warning that any dramatic incident should be carefully scrutinized before assigning blame.

Russian President Vladimir Putin used his annual New Year’s Eve address on Wednesday, December 31, to urge Russians to believe in victory in Ukraine, as the country marked the holiday for a fourth consecutive year under the shadow of war. The tightly scripted speech, lasting just over three minutes, focused heavily on Russia’s armed forces and avoided reference to recent diplomatic tensions or security incidents involving the Kremlin.

Delivering his address against a backdrop of flags and national symbols, Putin praised what he called the courage and resolve of Russian troops fighting in Ukraine. Addressing soldiers and commanders directly, he described them as “heroes” and told them, “We believe in you and our victory.” As in previous wartime speeches, the president framed the conflict as a historic struggle requiring unity, sacrifice and faith in the country’s armed forces.

Putin’s remarks capped a year marked by steady Russian battlefield advances in eastern and southern Ukraine, alongside mounting casualties on both sides. While Moscow has made incremental territorial gains, the fighting has come at a high human cost. Russia currently occupies around one-fifth of Ukraine, territory it has formally proclaimed as Russian despite international rejection of the claims.

Notably absent from Putin’s speech was any mention of a controversial claim made by Moscow earlier this week that Ukraine had launched a drone attack targeting one of the Russian leader’s residences. The Kremlin accused Kyiv of firing dozens of drones toward Putin’s lakeside home in the Novgorod region, located between Moscow and Saint Petersburg, on the night of December 28. Ukraine has dismissed the allegation as fabricated, accusing Russia of inventing the incident to influence ongoing diplomatic efforts.

On Wednesday, Russian authorities released nighttime footage showing what they said was a damaged Ukrainian drone lying in the snow in a forested area. The defence ministry described the alleged strike as a “targeted, carefully planned and staged” attack, characterising it as both a “terrorist act” and a “personal attack” against the president. Moscow warned the incident would harden its position in any future negotiations over Ukraine.

Independent analysts, however, questioned the Kremlin’s account. The US-based Institute for the Study of War said it had not seen evidence typically associated with Ukrainian long-range strikes to corroborate Russia’s claims that Putin’s residence had been threatened. The Kremlin has not disclosed where Putin was at the time of the alleged attack, and the Russian leader has not commented publicly on the incident. Details about Putin’s residences and private movements remain closely guarded state secrets.

The alleged drone attack came as diplomatic efforts to end the nearly three-year-old war showed renewed momentum. US special envoy Steve Witkoff said on Wednesday that he had spoken with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and European security advisers about restarting peace efforts in the new year, adding that “important work” lay ahead. Zelenskyy is expected to attend a January 6 summit in France with key allies, following talks with US President Donald Trump in Florida.

Despite these diplomatic signals, Moscow has shown no indication of retreating from its maximalist demands. Putin has repeatedly said Russia will seek to seize all Ukrainian territory it claims by force if negotiations fail. The European Union accused Russia on Wednesday of attempting to derail talks by publicising the alleged drone attack, calling the move provocative and destabilising.

Meanwhile, the war continues to take a heavy toll on Ukrainian civilians. Russia has maintained an almost daily barrage of missiles and drones across Ukraine, killing thousands and displacing millions. In Vyshgorod, a town outside Kyiv, residents told  that repeated Russian strikes had left them without power for days, turning daily life into what one resident described as “hell.”

As Russians welcomed the New Year, Putin’s brief address underscored the Kremlin’s message of resolve and endurance, even as the conflict grinds on with no clear end in sight.

Syria’s interim President, Ahmed al-Sharaa, has held his first talks with President Vladimir Putin in Moscow since ousting Russia’s ally Bashar al-Assad 10 months ago.

Putin spoke of the “special relationship” between both countries.

Sharaa suggested he would continue to allow Russia access to its military bases in Syria.

He was also expected to ask for the extradition of Assad, who was granted asylum after fleeing to Moscow.

For years they were enemies, on opposing sides of a bloody civil war.

Putin used brutal military force to prop up Bashar al-Assad. And Sharaa’s armed Islamist group led the rebel offensive that eventually forced Assad from power.

But on Wednesday, the Russian and Syrian leaders sat down together for the first time, putting pragmatism ahead of past enmity.

“Over the past decades, our countries have built a special relationship,” Putin said.

He added that there were “quite a few interesting and useful undertakings” on the agenda of their talks, and that Russia stood ready to “do everything to fulfil them”.

Sharaa said he wanted Syria to re-establish its relations with all countries, but “chiefly with Russia”.

“We are trying to restore and redefine in a new way the nature of these relations so there is independence for Syria, sovereign Syria, and also its territorial unity and integrity and its security stability.”

They were warm words from two men seeking a good working relationship.

Russia wants continued access to its Tartous naval port and Hmeimim military airbase on Syria’s Mediterranean coast.

Sharaa suggested he would allow this, saying Syria would “respect all agreements concluded throughout the great history” of their bilateral relations.

In turn, he wants help to consolidate his power in Syria, secure its borders and rescue a parlous economy with access to Russian energy and investment.

Russian ministers said they were ready to deliver foodstuffs and medication to Syria, and to help repair damaged power and transport infrastructure.

But amid the smiles, tensions remain.

Syrian sources said Sharaa would ask for Assad to be extradited so the exiled leader could face trial for war crimes. It is thought unlikely Russia would agree.

On Monday, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov told reporters that Russia had granted asylum to Assad because he and his family had “faced the risk of physical elimination”.

BBC

Ticket to eternal life?

Tailor-made organs

Bloomberg via Getty Images

Getty Images

On September 2, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un crossed the border into China aboard his armored green train, en route to attend Beijing’s grand commemoration of Japan’s surrender in World War II. The move, confirmed by Pyongyang’s state newspaper Rodong Sinmun, places Kim alongside Chinese President Xi Jinping and Russian President Vladimir Putin at a highly symbolic event that doubles as a projection of geopolitical power in 2025’s tense international climate.

The gathering—ostensibly to honor the 80th anniversary of Japan’s capitulation—has been orchestrated by Beijing as a display of historical unity, military strength, and a deliberate challenge to Western influence in Asia. But Kim’s presence carries outsized implications: it underscores North Korea’s deepening dependence on Beijing, affirms the reemergence of a Moscow-Beijing-Pyongyang axis, and sends a direct warning to Washington, Tokyo, and Seoul.

Kim Jong Un’s arrival itself was emblematic. State media images showed him inside his trademark armored train—dark green, heavily fortified, and resembling the bulletproof convoys he has used on rare trips abroad. With him was a high-level entourage, including Foreign Minister Choe Son Hui and Kim Song Nam, director of the Workers’ Party International Affairs Department. Both figures symbolize the twin pillars of North Korea’s diplomacy: nuclear weapons and China ties.

Choe Son Hui is one of the few women to rise to the top echelons of Pyongyang’s rigid hierarchy. Having shaped North Korea’s nuclear diplomacy since the early 2000s, she now occupies a pivotal role as Pyongyang attempts to cement its legitimacy through weapons development while simultaneously seeking strategic shelter under China’s wing.

Kim Song Nam, for his part, is the regime’s China whisperer. Analysts, such as Michael Madden of the Stimson Center, describe him as Kim Jong Un’s “point man” for managing relations with Beijing’s Communist Party. His presence signals that this visit is as much about strategic coordination as it is about ceremony.

For Xi Jinping, this week’s commemoration is more than historical remembrance. Beijing has advertised the parade as a “celebration of peace and victory,” but the massive military spectacle—including thousands of troops in lockstep formation, advanced drone flyovers, hypersonic missile carriers, and cyberwarfare units—will serve as a not-so-subtle message to the United States and its allies.

It also provides a rare opportunity for Xi, Putin, and Kim to appear together—a tableau that starkly contrasts with Western portrayals of China and Russia as isolated aggressors. Instead, the parade casts them as pillars of a rising “multipolar world,” standing against what they call U.S.-led “hegemony.”

“Kim’s attendance is no small gesture,” said Professor Zhao Tong, a Beijing-based security scholar. “It shows North Korea is no longer content to stay in the shadows of international diplomacy. Kim wants to be seen as part of a front with Xi and Putin, shaping the rules of the new order.”

Before stepping onto Chinese soil, Kim staged a calculated domestic move: he visited a missile laboratory in Pyongyang. State news agency KCNA reported that he inspected facilities developing carbon-fiber composite materials for solid-fuel intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs).

The lab claims its engines can generate propulsion of nearly 2,000 kilonewtons, destined for North Korea’s next-generation “Hwasong-19” and “Hwasong-20” ICBMs—missiles designed to reach the continental United States.

That Kim chose to highlight these weapons on the eve of his China trip was no coincidence. It sends a layered message: to Washington, that North Korea’s arsenal continues to grow; to Beijing, that Pyongyang brings hard power to the table in any strategic partnership; and to domestic audiences, that Kim remains the architect of national strength.

Kim’s visit also dovetails with Xi Jinping’s broader push for what Beijing calls a “new global order.” During a summit earlier this week, Xi urged nations of the Global South to band together against unfair Western-dominated systems of governance. Russia, India, and other countries joined in echoing the call.

North Korea wasted no time aligning itself with this narrative. A North Korean vice foreign minister praised Xi’s stance, declaring that Pyongyang would expand cooperation with Beijing to pursue “fairer global governance.” In Pyongyang’s lexicon, this phrase usually doubles as a euphemism for resisting U.S. sanctions and military pressure.

By presenting themselves as defenders of the Global South, Beijing, Moscow, and Pyongyang hope to attract sympathy from countries in Africa, Latin America, and Southeast Asia—regions that have long bristled at Western economic dominance.

The symbolism of Xi, Putin, and Kim appearing together cannot be overstated. For years, North Korea balanced uneasily between Moscow and Beijing, wary of overdependence on either. But Western sanctions, Russia’s war in Ukraine, and intensifying U.S.-China rivalry have accelerated alignment.

China provides North Korea with food, fuel, and trade lifelines. Russia, in need of artillery shells and laborers for its grinding war in Ukraine, has drawn closer to Pyongyang, reportedly trading food and energy for military supplies. Now, with Beijing hosting both, the three leaders are openly projecting unity.

“It’s a marriage of convenience, but it’s becoming institutionalized,” noted Jenny Town, a North Korea expert at the Stimson Center. “All three share a common enemy in the United States and its alliances. That alone is enough to drive deeper coordination.”

Unsurprisingly, the planned parade has rattled Northeast Asia. In Tokyo, Prime Minister Fumio Kishida’s office expressed concern that the event could be used to “legitimize military aggression under the guise of history.” South Korea’s foreign ministry condemned Kim’s missile factory visit as “provocative and destabilizing,” warning that closer military cooperation among Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow “will not be ignored.”

The United States, while officially downplaying the parade, has quietly stepped up consultations with Seoul and Tokyo. Pentagon officials privately worry that North Korea’s new solid-fuel ICBMs, if successfully deployed, could reduce warning times for U.S. missile defenses, thereby increasing the risk of miscalculation.

China’s choice to spotlight the WWII surrender of Japan carries its own symbolic weight. For Beijing, the commemoration reinforces its narrative of having endured Japanese aggression and emerged victorious alongside global allies. Yet, critics note that the event has been repurposed into a display of contemporary power rather than historical memory.

Japan, for its part, views the spectacle warily. The Japanese government has urged restraint, warning that “militarized commemorations of history only serve to reopen old wounds.” Yet, with its own military undergoing rapid modernization and constitutional reinterpretation, Tokyo knows it cannot afford to ignore the symbolism of three nuclear-armed neighbors standing together.

For Kim Jong Un, the visit to China is as much about optics as substance. Domestically, he can broadcast images of himself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Xi and Putin—proof to North Koreans that their leader is respected and relevant on the world stage. Internationally, his attendance sends a defiant message: North Korea is not isolated, but embedded in the heart of a rising anti-Western bloc.

Still, risks abound. Overreliance on Beijing could reduce Pyongyang’s bargaining power, while overt military cooperation with Russia could provoke harsher sanctions from the West. Yet, Kim appears confident that the benefits outweigh the costs—especially with Washington distracted by crises in Europe and the Middle East.

The real significance of Kim’s trip may lie not in the parade itself, but in the sidelines. Behind closed doors, Xi, Putin, and Kim are likely to discuss arms deals, economic aid, and coordination at the United Nations. Already, there are whispers of a new trilateral framework that could formalize cooperation across military, economic, and political fronts.

For Washington, Tokyo, and Seoul, this represents a strategic challenge. Containing North Korea becomes far more complex when Pyongyang enjoys the backing of two permanent UN Security Council members. Deterring China’s assertiveness in the Pacific also becomes trickier when Beijing can count on both Moscow and Pyongyang to flank U.S. alliances.

Kim Jong Un’s armored train journey into China on September 2 is more than a diplomatic footnote. It marks a moment when three authoritarian powers—China, Russia, and North Korea—are consciously binding themselves together against a common adversary. The optics of Xi, Putin, and Kim sharing the same stage will reverberate far beyond Beijing’s Tiananmen Square.

The UN is stressing that any peace effort or deal must be consistent with the principles of the UN Charter, including respect for Ukraine’s sovereignty and territorial integrity.

Speaking to reporters on Thursday, UN Spokesperson Stéphane Dujarric welcomed “dialogue at the highest level” between the two permanent members of the Security Council.

The meeting is scheduled to take place in Alaska at 11 AM local time (3 PM in New York). The northern US state is separated from the mainland by Canada, while Russia lies just to the west across the Bering Strait and the International Date Line.

Mr. Dujarric reaffirmed that the “[UN’s] position regarding the war in Ukraine remains the same.”

“We want an immediate, full and unconditional ceasefire as a first step towards finding a just and sustainable and comprehensive peace, one that upholds Ukraine’s sovereignty, its territorial integrity and independence within internationally recognized border and in line with UN Charter, international law and all relevant UN resolutions,” he said.

Asked about reports that the United States and Russia would meet without Ukraine at the table, Mr. Dujarric recalled the UN’s principled view that, to reach a durable settlement, “it’s helpful to have all the parties of the conflict at the table, the same table.”

“We’ll obviously be watching what happens, and we’re watching what comes out of it.”

The summit takes place against a backdrop of worsening humanitarian conditions. According to the UN relief coordination office, OCHA, hostilities continue to exact a heavy civilian toll, destroying homes and infrastructure, forcing thousands more to flee.

Between Monday and Wednesday alone, over 6,000 people evacuated their high-risk communities near frontlines in the Donetsk region, either through organized evacuations or of their own volition.

The UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission in Ukraine reported this week that July saw the highest monthly civilian casualty toll since May 2022, with 286 people killed and 1,388 injured.

Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the rights mission has documented the deaths of at least 13,883 civilians, including 726 children, and 35,548 injured, including 2,234 children.

Russian President Vladimir Putin announced on Monday that he has agreed to the possibility of Russia and the United States significantly reducing their military budgets. According to Putin, talks are underway between the two nations to cut defense spending by up to 50 percent.

Putin stated, “We can reach an agreement with the US to reduce military expenditure. We are not against it. This is a suggestion that I also agree with. The US will cut its military budget by 50 percent, and we will do the same. China can also join it if it wants.”

This unexpected declaration has sparked widespread debate in global political and defense circles, particularly as tensions between Russia and the West remain high amid the ongoing Ukraine conflict. However, China was quick to distance itself from the proposal.

China’s reluctance to participate in this initiative became clear when Foreign Ministry spokesman Lin Jian responded to a question posed by news agency AFP regarding whether Beijing would consider joining the military budget reduction plan.

Lin Jian said, “The readout of the phone conversation between President Putin and Xi Jinping has been released. You talked about defense expenditure. Global defense expenditure has increased significantly in recent years.”

He further elaborated, “According to the data, global defense expenditure in 2024 was $2.43 trillion, which is a record so far. The huge increase in global defense expenditure is due to increasing global insecurity. All countries are facing global security challenges. The international community, and especially the big countries, should take the initiative for world peace.”

Despite advocating for global stability, Lin Jian made it clear that China’s national security strategy was independent of any proposed defense budget limitations. He emphasized that “China is committed to peaceful progress. It is not appropriate to link the protection of national sovereignty, development-related interests, and maintaining world peace with limiting defense expenditure.”

China’s rejection of Putin’s suggestion is in line with its broader defense strategy. Beijing has long maintained a policy of “self-defense,” aiming to balance national security with economic development while refraining from direct military competition with any single nation.

China also pointed out that the U.S. and Russia possess nearly 90 percent of the world’s nuclear weapons, arguing that these two nations should first take the lead in nuclear disarmament before expecting other countries to follow suit.

According to Dr. Rajan Kumar, an Associate Professor at the Center for Russian and Central Asian Studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University, Putin’s willingness to cut military spending is not surprising. He stated, “Agreements have been made between America and Russia to stop the arms race. Even the Soviet Union and America had many agreements. Russia’s economy is not strong enough to compete with the U.S. in arms. Russia will only benefit from this.”

Dr. Kumar added, “Now the real competition is between China and America, but China will not support any such proposal. China feels that it is still behind America in terms of military power and will not be ready to cut the defense budget until it equals America. Russia also does not want China to become a superpower in military strength, given their complex history as neighboring powers.”

Russia and China have shared a complicated history, marked by both cooperation and conflict. In 1969, the two countries clashed in a border war along the Amur and Ussuri Rivers. At one point, Russia even threatened China with nuclear retaliation, leading Beijing to adopt a cautious approach toward Moscow.

Despite agreements in 2004 that resolved some territorial disputes, underlying geopolitical tensions still persist. While China officially remains neutral in Russia’s war against Ukraine, it has significantly increased its oil and gas imports from Russia, providing an economic lifeline to Moscow amid Western sanctions.

Western analysts argue that China’s financial and strategic backing has indirectly supported Russia’s military efforts in Ukraine. European nations believe that Putin has received substantial assistance from China, even though Beijing has not directly supplied Moscow with weapons.

The London-based think tank International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS) released a report on February 12 stating that global military expenditure reached $2.46 trillion in 2024, marking an all-time high.

China’s official defense budget for 2024 was $236 billion, a 7.2% increase from the previous year. However, some experts believe China’s actual military spending is far higher than the figures reported. The American Enterprise Institute estimates China’s real military expenditure to be around $711 billion, bringing it close to the U.S. defense budget of $850 billion.

China has been aggressively modernizing its People’s Liberation Army (PLA) over the past few decades. President Xi Jinping’s vision is to transform China’s military into a world-class force by 2049, marking the centenary of Communist Party rule in China.

The United States views China’s rapid military expansion as a major geopolitical challenge. This concern is shared by key American allies, including India, Japan, and Taiwan, all of whom perceive China’s growing military power as a direct threat.

With military spending surging across Asia, neighboring countries have been compelled to increase their defense budgets in response to China’s growing military presence. Japan, in particular, has significantly increased its defense expenditure to counter potential threats from both China and North Korea’s nuclear advancements.

The Institute for Strategic Studies stated, “In 2024, the defense budget of Asian countries has seen a moderate growth. The neighboring countries are seeing China’s increasing military expenditure and the modernization of North Korea’s nuclear weapons as a threat. In such a situation, these countries have increased their defense budgets—especially Japan.”

Another major factor influencing global military spending is the evolving relationship between the United States and Russia. Since the start of the Ukraine war in February 2022, Russia and China have grown closer due to Western sanctions. However, a shift in U.S. foreign policy under President Donald Trump could alter this dynamic.

Trump has indicated a willingness to redefine US-Russia relations, advocating for negotiations to end the Ukraine conflict and initiate talks on reducing military and nuclear expenditures. However, European allies and Ukraine are not part of these discussions, leading to concerns about how such an agreement would affect global security.

Trump has expressed a strong desire to engage directly with Putin, stating that once the Ukraine crisis is resolved, discussions on reducing global defense spending can begin. However, European leaders remain skeptical about Trump’s motivations, fearing that any concessions to Putin might come at the cost of Ukraine’s territorial integrity.

If Trump proceeds with a major U.S.-Russia military budget reduction deal, it could significantly impact NATO, China, and the global military balance. However, China’s reluctance to join such an initiative suggests that a three-way military budget reduction agreement remains unlikely.

While Putin’s proposal to cut military budgets by 50% with the U.S. is a bold and unexpected move, it has revealed deep divisions in global military strategies.

• Russia sees economic benefits in reducing military spending, given its struggling economy and prolonged war in Ukraine.
• The U.S. under Trump may be open to negotiations, though European allies remain wary of any compromises.
• China, however, remains focused on its long-term military modernization plan and has distanced itself from budget-reduction proposals.

As global tensions continue to shape military strategies, the world watches closely to see whether Putin and Trump can turn their discussions into a lasting agreement—or whether China’s reluctance will ensure that the global arms race continues.