First, America and Europe no longer face an existential threat, let alone a common one. Which makes united action by such a diverse membership so difficult. Russia is no Soviet Union. Vladimir Putin is no Joseph Stalin. The Russian Federation is an unpleasant actor but has reverted to a pre-1914 great power, insisting on border security and international respect. There is no prospect of a Russian attack on the U.S. and little more chance of one on Europe, Old or New. Although plausible, even a successful grab of the Baltic States would yield little benefit for much cost.
Russia’s, Europe’s, and America’s interests often clash—they understandably have different perspectives on economic predominance in Ukraine and political predominance in Syria, for instance—but most such issues are of only limited importance. Even the disputes over Georgia and Ukraine are peripheral matters for Europe and America. However, the latter is existential (in the case of the latter) security concerns for Russia.
NATO expansion moved the transatlantic alliance a thousand miles eastward; Western-backed “color revolutions” placed unfriendly governments in neighboring states; Ukraine was heartland territory for the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union; and Crimea, transferred in 1954 to Ukraine as part of an internal Soviet political deal, contains the important Black Sea military base at Sebastopol. Moscow views its “near abroad” rather like Washington views Latin America. The U.S. officially does not believe in spheres of interest, but the Trump administration reacted badly to Russian involvement in Venezuela. The president said: “Russia has to get out.” Then-National Security adviser John Bolton announced: “We strongly caution actors external to the western hemisphere against deploying military assets to Venezuela, or elsewhere in the hemisphere, with the intent of establishing or expanding military operations.”
Thus, Moscow’s behavior, though unjustified, is essentially defensive toward the West.
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