Welcome back to the Diplomacy and Discourse channel.
This is episode 13, part 5, the final chapter
in our series on power politics. In this episode
we turn our attention to the global pressure
points where the echoes of empire, ideology,
and rivalry collide. The war in Ukraine may dominate
headlines, but it's only one part of a much larger
struggle for influence in a rapidly fragmenting
world. Today, we examine how the United States,
Russia, and China are shaping and reshaping strategic
environments from Eastern Europe to the Indo
-Pacific. We look at how Taiwan, the South China
Sea, and the Middle East are becoming battlegrounds
not just for land or resources, but for the future
of the international order itself. In these theaters,
great powers are making bold moves and miscalculations.
Their decisions aren't just reactive, they are
part of an unfolding strategy where dominance,
deterrence, and narrative control are becoming
the currencies of power. A great power doesn't
need to physically occupy territory to reshape
global outcomes. Influence today is exerted through
economic coercion, proxy warfare, strategic ambiguity,
and military signaling. A show of force can freeze
diplomatic progress or trigger it. Threats alone,
when made credibly, can alter the course of international
negotiations. This logic is now visible in conflicts
far beyond Ukraine. From Taiwan to the South
China Sea, countries are recalibrating their
positions not just in response to their neighbors,
but based on how great powers behave. The use
or threat of force is once again setting the
tempo of international relations. The echoes
of this return to power -based diplomacy are
clear. States are becoming more assertive, more
nationalistic, and more reactive. The very idea
of great power carries historical weight, and
for many, suspicion. From Neville Chamberlain's
failed appeasement of Hitler in 1938, to the
division of Eastern Europe at the 1945 Yalta
Conference, the term evokes memories of elite
deals made over the heads of smaller nations.
These were moments when great powers exercised
their dominance not just to prevent war, but
to maintain order on their own terms, often at
the expense of others. This is where the concept
of spheres of influence draws its most intense
criticism. For many, it feels inherently colonial,
a framework where might makes right, and sovereignty
becomes conditional. But understanding great
power dynamics requires more than moral judgment.
It requires historical perspective. Not every
act of influence is an act of exploitation, and
not every balance of power arrangement is inherently
unjust. Power is not evenly distributed in international
affairs, and geography often locks certain countries
into unavoidable strategic calculations. In many
cases, great powers act with restraint not out
of benevolence, but out of pragmatism. Influence
is asserted where it is low cost and avoided
where the risks outweigh the gains. In 1907,
Russia made precisely this kind of calculation.
Rather than challenge Britain's dominance in
Afghanistan, it negotiated the Anglo -Russian
Entente, a deal that allowed both empires to
pursue their interests without stumbling into
open conflict. This wasn't an act of weakness,
it was a recognition of geopolitical reality.
It showed how great powers, even in rivalry,
can chew strategic patience over confrontation
when the stakes are too high. The legacy of arrangements,
like the Anglo -Russian Entente, helps clarify
what's happening in today's multipolar world.
For much of the post -Cold War period, the idea
of spheres of influence was pushed aside, irrelevant
in a world where US hegemony felt unshakable.
During the Unipolar Era, the notion that regional
powers might carve out their own zones of control
was treated as outdated or illegitimate. But
now, with the rise of China, the resurgence of
Russia, and the return of competitive regional
actors, that assumption is breaking down. The
world is shifting toward multipolarity, and with
it, the old frameworks of great power behavior
are returning. Not identically, not as carbon
copies of the past, but as modern adaptations
of a very old playbook. This doesn't mean endorsing
spheres of influence, but it does mean acknowledging
them as a structural feature of international
relations when power is contested and no single
actor can enforce universal rules. In that context,
what's happening in Ukraine isn't just a tragedy,
it's a case study. It reveals what happens when
rival powers test the boundaries of influence,
when diplomacy fails to restrain force, and when
historical patterns reassert themselves in modern
forms. The future of power politics will depend
on how the world interprets this moment, as a
warning, a precedent, or a template for what
comes next. Great powers don't operate in a vacuum.
Their decisions about spheres of influence are
shaped by a dense mix of perceived risks, strategic
ambitions, historical baggage, and regional power
dynamics. These factors don't just determine
how they interact with rivals. They shape the
contours of global order itself. When a powerful
nation chooses to assert dominance in a neighboring
region, it's not always about territorial conquest.
It's often about controlling the rules of engagement,
access to markets, strategic depth, and influence
over diplomatic outcomes. The echoes of these
decisions can last for decades, defining relationships
long after borders stopped shifting. The United
States, for its part, has long voiced opposition
to the idea of spheres of influence. It insists
on a rules -based international order, grounded
in sovereignty and legal equality among states.
But this opposition is as much about preserving
global reach as it is about principle. Since
World War II, the U .S. had seen itself as a
global superpower, responsible not just for defending
its own territory, but for shaping the conditions
under which other countries operate. Spheres
of influence especially when claimed by adversaries
like Russia or China are perceived as challenges
to this expansive notion of global stewardship.
For Washington, opposing such claims is about
maintaining an international architecture that
allows the U .S. to project influence freely
everywhere. This resistance is also framed as
a moral imperative. U .S. officials often argue
that when one nation imposes dominance over another,
it undermines sovereignty, violates international
norms, and destabilizes the global system. The
claim is not just that spheres of influence are
dangerous, but that they are inherently unjust.
Yet this position, while rooted in principle,
has never been free from contradiction. The United
States has intervened, covertly and overtly,
in the affairs of dozens of countries to secure
its strategic interests, often by bypassing international
norms in the process. These actions, whether
justified through democracy promotion, counter
-terrorism, or humanitarian intervention, have
at times mirrored the very behaviors the US claims
to oppose. The 2003 invasion of Iraq is perhaps
the most glaring example of this contradiction.
The war was publicly justified by claims that
Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction and
posed a global threat. No such weapons were found.
The secondary justification, liberating Iraq
from Saddam Hussein and spreading democracy,
was undermined by America's track record of supporting
authoritarian regimes when it suited broader
strategic goals. The result was a perception
of hypocrisy, one that still colors how the US
is viewed globally. The war removed a dictator,
but it also unleashed a wave of instability.
The power vacuum that followed fractured Iraq
into sectarian fault lines, eroded trust in Western
institutions, and opened the door for extremist
groups like ISIS to gain a foothold. The consequences
didn't end there. The US withdrawal in 2011 left
Iraq politically fragile and ripe for external
influence, particularly from Iran. The promise
of a stable democratic Iraq never fully materialized.
Instead, the country became a cautionary tale
of what happens when the rhetoric of liberation
clashes with the realities of long -term occupation
and limited strategic planning. Iraq today still
grapples with deep -rooted problems. Corruption,
weak governance, economic hardship, and simmering
public frustration. These conditions are not
just internal failures. They are the echoes of
a war that was never clearly defined in terms
of endgame or aftermath. As the global order
transitions from unipolarity to multipolar rivalry,
these lessons are not academic. They are urgent.
Russia and China have begun to assert themselves
more aggressively in near -abroads. In doing
so, they are reviving the very logic of spheres
of influence the US claims to reject. Russia's
actions in Ukraine and Georgia, and China's posture
toward Taiwan in the South China Sea, are not
anomalies. They are strategic signals. Each power
is drawing a line around what it considers its
rightful sphere, using a blend of coercion, diplomacy,
and historical narrative to justify its actions.
The U .S. in response has dusted off the doctrine
of containment, a Cold War -era strategy built
around limiting a rival's expansion without triggering
direct conflict. Containment today doesn't just
mean military deployments or arms sales. It also
involves coordinating sanctions, intelligence
partnerships, regional alliance building, and
economic decoupling. It's the US asserting that
while it may reject formal spheres of influence,
it will not allow hostile ones to emerge unchecked.
But this strategy comes with its own risks. It
raises the stakes of every regional flashpoint.
It tests the resilience of alliances that were
built for different kinds of threats. And it
demands a clarity of purpose and unity of vision
that the current international system often struggles
to deliver. The legacy of Iraq, the contradictions
of US rhetoric, and the real politic calculations
of today's great powers all converge in this
moment. The world is once again being reshaped
by powers vying for control, not always through
conquest, but through influence. The endgame's
pursuit today will echo in the alliances, rivalries,
and fault lines of tomorrow. And the lesson,
perhaps, is this. The narrative of defending
sovereignty and democracy must be matched by
the practice of consistency, foresight and genuine
international cooperation. Otherwise, power politics
will keep repeating itself, only with new players
and higher stakes. China and Russia's increasingly
assertive behavior Territorial expansion, strategic
aggression, and open defiance of international
norms has not only rattled the global order,
but has also drawn a sharp response from the
United States. In Washington, these moves are
read not as isolated actions, but as part of
a deliberate, coordinated challenge to U .S.
influence and the rules -based system it has
championed since World War II. The re -emergence
of great power rivalry is no longer theoretical.
It's played out in real time across Eastern Europe,
the Indo -Pacific, and cyberspace. And for the
United States, that has meant returning to one
of the most enduring doctrines of its 20th century
playbook, containment. Yet even as the U .S.
reactivates containment strategies, through economic
sanctions, military aid, alliance strengthening,
and deterrent deployments, it has remained cautious
about how it publicly frames its commitments
in Eastern Europe. Prior to Russia's full -scale
invasion of Ukraine, the United States avoided
open -door discussions about NATO's future in
the region. The concern wasn't just strategic
ambiguity. It was the optics. Engaging in behind
-closed -doors negotiations about Eastern Europe's
alignment risked sending the message that the
fate of the countries like Ukraine or Georgia
was being decided without them. In a world where
sovereignty is a key pillar of the liberal international
order, that would have undermined the very autonomy
the West claims to defend. Instead, U .S. officials
stuck closely to broad principles. In the weeks
leading up to the conflict, Secretary of State
Anthony Blinken, who served from January 2021
through September 2023, reiterated America's
core commitments to NATO's integrity and to the
security architecture that undergrids the alliance.
This reaffirmation was designed to reassure allies
across Eastern Europe, not just about American
presence, but about the credibility of its deterrent.
The message was clear, the United States would
stand by its allies even if it would not draw
red lines for non -member partners like Ukraine.
But the problem wasn't what was said. It was
what wasn't addressed. Russia's objections to
NATO's eastward drift were met with firm denials,
but not meaningful engagement. U .S. officials
refused to consider limitations on alliance expansion,
seeing it as legitimizing Russian veto power
over sovereign decisions. But to Moscow, that
refusal confirmed what it already suspected,
that the West was not interested in compromise.
And for Vladimir Putin, who was long made clear
that Ukraine's turn toward Western institutions
represented an existential threat to Russia's
buffer zone, this reinforced the view that confrontation
was not just inevitable, it was necessary. Ukraine's
desire to integrate into the European Union,
and eventually NATO, was more than symbolic.
It was strategic. It represented a pivot away
from Moscow's sphere of influence and toward
a Western model of governance, economics, and
security. For Russia, this wasn't just a diplomatic
loss. It was a collapse of the post -Soviet identity.
Putin's decision to invade Ukraine must be seen
in this context, as an attempt to prevent what
he viewed as the erosion of Russia's historic
and cultural claim to its near abroad. This wasn't
just about territory. It was about influence
prestige and the future shape of Eurasia Putin's
pattern of behavior reinforces this logic in
moments of crisis He has consistently acted quickly
assertively and often without regard for long
-term strategic fallout the 2008 war in Georgia
the annexation of Crimea in 2014 the intervention
in Syria and the crackdown on dissent at home
all follow a clear pattern. Assert control now,
justify later, if at all. In Ukraine, this has
meant full -scale mobilization, missile strikes
on cities, and a disregard for civilian casualties.
Putin's strategic mindset is built on the idea
that hesitation signals weakness. And in this
worldview, morality, legality, and diplomacy
are subordinate to power. and perception. The
result is a geopolitical environment where rules
are fluid and where the enforcement of norms
depends less on shared values than on leverage.
The US, for its part, has tried to maintain the
language of universal rights and international
law, but it now finds itself operating in a world
where those concepts are being openly challenged
by authoritarian powers with regional ambitions.
The failure to address Russia's security concerns,
real or perceived, didn't just fuel the current
crisis. It exposed a broader deficiency in diplomatic
strategy. One where principles were upheld at
the cost of pragmatism and where the risks of
escalation were underestimated until they arrived.
The echoes of this moment will be long -lasting.
Just as the Cold War was shaped by early miscalculations
about Soviet behavior, and Western responses.
Today's power politics is being molded by how
the US, Russia, and China choose to interpret
and respond to one another's moves. Whether the
world settles into a new, cold peace or stumbles
into a fragmented, unstable order may depend
not on who has the strongest army, but on who
best understands the cost of ignoring the past.
Russia's invasion of Ukraine has delivered a
major blow not only to its international standing,
but to its military reputation and long -term
strategic stability. What began as a swift operation
aimed at toppling the Ukrainian government and
reasserting Russian dominance has dragged into
a protracted, costly war marked by failure and
miscalculation. The campaign has exposed the
shortcomings of Vladimir Putin's centralized
and autocratic leadership style, a system where
major decisions are made unilaterally without
input from advisors or institutions that might
otherwise offer strategic restraint. The results
have been catastrophic for Russia, staggering
military losses, global isolation, a weakened
economy, and growing unrest among its own citizens.
And while Ukraine bears the brunt of the conflict,
the instability radiates outward, threatening
the geopolitical equilibrium of Europe and the
global economy. The consequences for Europe and
the United States are already taking shape. Fear,
uncertainty, and economic disruptions have set
in, not only within Russia, but across its borders.
Europe faces increased energy insecurity, potential
trade disruptions, and a renewed risk of military
conflict near its eastern frontier. For the United
States, the cost comes in the terms of sustained
financial and military aid, strained transatlantic
alliances, and heightened geopolitical pressure
to uphold international norms. If the Biden administration
were to frame the situation in Ukraine as a success,
it would be a success paid for at a great cost.
The economic fallout, reduced investment, higher
energy prices and a looming recession could weigh
heavily on the region for years to come. It's
also important to recognize the deeper echoes
here. In 2008, then Secretary of State Condoleezza
Rice stated that global power would no longer
be defined by spheres of influence or imperial
control. That vision of a world governed by shared
values rather than territorial dominance was
aspirational. But today, The very dynamics she
sought to move beyond have returned with force.
Ukraine has made clear that when great powers
diverge, when their visions for the international
order collide, the results is not just diplomatic
deadlock, it's war. This war has further exposed
the limits of American power in modern era. The
US could not deter Russia from acting, and it
has drawn a firm line against direct military
involvement. Former President Biden made it clear
that the United States would not risk a third
world war over Ukraine, signaling that while
support for allies remains strong, there are
boundaries to American intervention. This posture
reflects a shift in strategy, one that prioritizes
diplomacy, multilateral coordination, and long
-term containment over rapid escalation. It also
reflects domestic reality. The American public
has little appetite for another open -ended military
commitment, especially one involving nuclear
powers. But even with this cautious approach,
there's still a reluctance in Washington to acknowledge
that U .S. dominance is no longer absolute. There
is little consensus on how to manage great power
conflicts in a world where hard power still matters,
but where public support for intervention is
scarce. This uncertainty now extends to Taiwan.
As tensions rise in the Taiwan Strait, the US
has begun shifting from tactic support to explicit
military coordination with Taiwanese forces.
The goal is to strengthen Taiwan's self -defense
capabilities, but it comes with a risk. Just
as Russia saw NATO expansion as a provocation,
China may interpret US actions as an invitation
to act preemptively. What began as deterrence
could quickly spiral into escalation, particularly
in a region already crowded with rival interests
and militarized posturing. This pattern of signaling
strength while tiptoeing around direct confrontation
is rooted in a belief that influence must be
balanced with restraint. But critics argue that
acknowledging a rival's fear of influence is
not the same as conceding defeat. Rather, it
can serve as a stabilizing measure that prevents
miscalculation. The experience in Ukraine suggests
that indirect support, coordinated aid, and defense
partnerships can help preserve independence without
triggering full -scale war. Ukraine has survived,
despite not being in NATO, precisely because
its allies backed it with aid, training, and
weaponry, not with boots on the ground. These
lessons can be applied more broadly. Small nations
can increase their resilience by building credible
self -defense strategies and diversifying their
alliances. For Taiwan, this could mean adopting
a more distributed defense -in -depth model that
makes it less vulnerable to a first strike and
more difficult to subdue through conventional
force. The US, for its part, should focus less
on symbolic gestures, and more on building quiet,
sustainable networks of regional support. Escalation
should never be the first resort. There's also
a deeper lesson here for American policymakers.
Victory narratives should be approached with
caution. Strategic success isn't always measured
in headlines or immediate outcomes. It requires
acknowledging the limits of power, delegating
responsibility to regional partners, and understanding
that multipolarity demands flexibility. It also
means getting comfortable with complexity, recognizing
that influence is rarely uncontested and that
diplomacy will often mean operating in gray zones
where alliances overlap and interests clash.
The Ukraine conflict has underscored that wars
today are not just about tanks and missiles.
They're about leverage, narrative, and endurance.
And while military might still plays a role,
the more decisive tools in the years ahead may
be coalition building, economic statecraft, and
the ability to negotiate durable, if imperfect,
compromises. The future of power politics will
depend on whether the United States and its allies
can adapt to this reality, or whether they continue
to cling to old frameworks in a rapidly changing
world. Despite widespread assumptions that Russia's
invasion of Ukraine has backfired, there are
growing signs that the Kremlin may be shifting
the balances in its favor. The war has not unfolded
according to Russia's initial expectations, its
blitz -style push to seize Kiev failed, and its
military suffered early setbacks. But over time,
Moscow has adjusted its strategy, and the narrative
of failure is now far more complicated. Several
developments point to why, under the current
trajectory, Russia may actually be gaining the
upper hand. One major factor is manpower. While
Ukraine has relied heavily on foreign aid and
civilian mobilization, Russia's sheer population
advantage and conscription mechanisms have helped
sustain a large fighting force. Despite criticism
about morale and poor coordination in the early
stages of the war, the Russian military has steadily
gained battlefield experience. Its troops are
now more seasoned, its logistics are better adapted
to the front lines, and its command structure,
though rigid, is functioning more effectively
than during the chaotic first months of the invasion.
Economically, Russia has shown a level of resilience
that many Western observers didn't expect. While
the sanctions imposed by the US and its allies
have undoubtedly caused damage, the Kremlin has
managed to stabilize key sectors. Moscow has
tightened capital control, reoriented trade towards
Asia, and expanded domestic production of critical
goods. Inflation has cooled and energy revenues,
while down from pre -war highs, are still flowing.
Importantly, the Russian leadership has accepted
that this will be a long war, and its economic
policy reflects that mindset. They aren't just
weathering the sanctions, they're building structures
to adapt to them long -term. Militarily, Russia
has pivoted to a strategy that exploits Ukraine's
current vulnerabilities. Instead of seeking rapid
territorial gains, Russian forces have leaned
on sustained attrition, using cheap drones, precision
-guided munitions, and relentless missile barrages
to wear down Ukrainian defenses. Ukraine's forces,
in contrast, are suffering from exhaustion and
dwindling supplies. Delays in Western aid, debates
in US Congress, and the challenges of replenishing
sophisticated systems like air defense have made
it harder for Kiev to hold the line. The Russian
military is advancing in small increments, but
with consistency, and in a war of attrition,
that matters. Then there's the nuclear factor.
Russia's repeated references to its nuclear doctrine
alongside changes that lower the threshold for
tactical use have injected a constant sense of
danger into Western strategic calculations. The
implicit message has been clear. Any large -scale
NATO intervention could escalate into a nuclear
confrontation. Whether bluster or not, that deterrent
posture has helped Putin limit the scope of Western
involvement. It's a powerful reminder of how
nuclear power, even if unused, can shape outcomes
on the ground through fear alone. Together, these
dynamics have created a situation where Russia,
though battered, may be positioned to grind out
a kind of victory, or at least force a stalemate
on its terms. This doesn't mean it will achieve
its original war aims, but it does suggest that
underestimating Russia's capacity to adapt, endure,
and recalibrate was a mistake. The war is far
from over and the situation remains fluid. Still,
the echoes of great power competition are unmistakable
here. It's not always about who wins quickly.
Sometimes, it's about who lasts longer. As we
conclude this five part series, one reality stands
out above all. Power politics is not simply a
recurring pattern of history. It is the defining
language of international relations today. Whether
we're looking at proxy wars in Ukraine, missile
drills near Taiwan, or diplomatic rifts over
climate and trade, the central logic remains.
Power is pursued, contested, negotiated, and
occasionally restrained. But never irrelevance.
The episodes of this series have shown us that
history doesn't just repeat itself. It reinvents
itself with new tools, new technologies, and
new stakes. Great powers may talk about peace
and order, but their actions are shaped by fear,
ambition, and the need to project strength. As
the global balance continues to shift, we must
ask not only what power means, but how it is
used, and misused. Thank you for joining us on
this journey. Stay tuned for more episodes of
the Diplomacy in Discourse, as we explore the
conflicts, strategies, and decisions shaping
our world.