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Common security lessons for the US and Russia in a world without arms control.
The following article was initially written at the request of Oleg Bodrov, a Russian physicist with commitments to peace and environmental sustainability and safety. I met Oleg about a decade ago during the World Conference against A- & H- Bombs in Hiroshima, and today we both serve on the board of the International Peace Bureau, a Nobel Peace Prize recipient organization. In addition to serving on IPB’s board, Oleg is chairman of the Public Council of the South Coast of the Gulf of Finland. He lives outside of St. Petersburg and does what he can given the limits of the possible in Putin’s Russia. When he and I last spoke, Ukrainian drones had devastated a massive Russian oil refinery, spewing toxins into the Baltic Sea and across many Russian communities. With Ukrainian drones flying overhead he hadn’t slept the previous night, making Oleg one more innocent caught in that mutually disastrous war.
In our exchanges, Oleg came up with a proposal to take a small step toward bridging the divisions of the new US-Russian Cold War and building for the time when the missiles, drones, and guns of the Ukraine War have been silenced. His idea: I should write an article that shared US peace movement thinking and named actions that can reduce the increasingly perilous military tensions and serve as foundations for a future era of US-NATO-Russian Common security. Oleg would translate the article and arrange for its publication in a Russian scientific journal. As we corresponded about the article’s publication, it occurred to us that it might also prove helpful for US readers, hence its publication here in Common Dreams. Where this will lead, only time will tell. But the truth is that both the US and Russia are going to be around for a long time, and a just and peaceful Common Security order will be essential for this and future generations.
The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists’ Doomsday Clock report warns us that we face Cuban Missile Crisis level danger. Back then, in 1962, senior officials in the Kennedy administration thought the odds of the missile crisis leading to a nuclear war were 50-50. In the aftermath of the eyeball-to-eyeball nuclear confrontation, Daniel Ellsberg, a senior Kennedy nuclear adviser, became so pessimistic about humanity’s future that, not expecting to live to an old age, he ceased paying into his pension fund.
But both President John F. Kennedy and Chairman Nikita Khrushchev, along with their ruling circles, were sufficiently sobered by the specter of nuclear annihilation. They moved quickly to negotiate the Limited Test Ban Treaty. Their successors built on this foundation, constructing the six-decade-old arms control regime. They negotiated treaties from the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty to the SALT and START agreements. They limited, but failed to erase, the dangers of nuclear annihilation.
That arms control regime is now history. First came the loss of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty almost 25 years ago. Then came the expiration of the New START Treaty. Now, President Donald Trump is obsessed with resuming nuclear-weapons testing, and both the US and Russia are moving to deploy new nuclear-capable missile systems.
Predictably, more and more nations are learning a lesson from North Korea: Great powers will not attack you if you have a nuclear arsenal.
Adding to nuclear dangers, Beijing is increasing its nuclear arsenal in pursuit of parity with Moscow and Washington. We are becoming three nuclear-armed scorpions in a bottle. This, together with Russian concerns about the French and British nuclear arsenals, complicates any possible future arms reduction diplomacy. The inability of the US, Russia, and China to find common ground—or even to agree on a least common denominator consensus document—was a major factor that dictated the third consecutive failure of the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty (NPT) Review Conference this past May.
The geopolitical landscape is further complicated by the US-Israeli-Iran war. During that conflict, President Trump speculated about possible low-yield nuclear attacks against Iran’s nuclear infrastructure.
Predictably, more and more nations are learning a lesson from North Korea: Great powers will not attack you if you have a nuclear arsenal. Political pressures for nuclear-weapons proliferation are therefore building in threshold nations from Seoul to Stockholm, including Iran, Poland, and Japan, among others.
Political realism and the survival of our species point in two complementary directions. As the Japanese A-bomb survivors and their organization Nihon Hidankyo (awarded the 2024 Nobel Peace Prize) warn, it should be obvious: “Human beings and nuclear weapons cannot coexist.”
We have already had too many close calls with extinction: false nuclear alerts, mistaken launch orders, accidents, and geopolitical miscalculations. And as Nobel Peace Laureate Joseph Rotblat, the founder of the Pugwash Conferences and the only senior Manhattan Project scientist to quit for reasons of conscience, explained, humanity faces a stark choice. We can either completely eliminate the world’s nuclear arsenals, or we will see their proliferation and eventual use. Why? Because no nation will long tolerate what it perceives as an unjust and threatening imbalance of power—in this case, the imbalance of nuclear terror.
Even in the best of circumstances, it will take valuable time—possibly more time than we have—to build the trust and to conduct the negotiations needed for a nuclear-weapon-free world. This, in turn, forces us to learn another lesson from US-Russian history: the possibility of Common Security. In crisis, as our Chinese friends remind us, there is opportunity as well as danger.
In the 1980s humanity faced a similar situation. The two great powers flirted with triggering a catastrophic war that could have caused a nuclear winter. The US and the Soviet Union brought the world to the nuclear brink with the planned deployments of SS-20, cruise, and Pershing II missiles.
The combination of popular movements calling for a halt to the nuclear arms race, and President Mikhail Gorbachev’s understanding that military spending had to be reduced if the Soviet economy were to be salvaged, led Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme to convene the Independent Commission on Disarmament and Security Issues.
With the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rise of the Bush regime, great power relations reverted to the rules of the game among Mafia families.
Georgi Arbatov, the most senior military adviser to Gorbachev, later wrote about the commission’s work and its world-changing recommendations. In meetings with former US Secretary of State Cyrus Vance and leaders from Austria, Germany, Norway, India, and elsewhere, “a new approach to nuclear arms emerged.” Its essence, in Arbatov’s words, was that “we cannot guarantee our own security at the expense or detriment of someone else’s, but only on the basis of mutual interests.”
To reverse the spiraling arms race, each side needed to name the other’s actions that were most threatening to it and then negotiate agreements that would remove those threats without weakening anyone’s security. Those difficult negotiations led in 1987 to the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, which prohibited the SS-20, cruise, and Pershing II deployments, and functionally ended the Cold War two years before the Berlin Wall fell.
Context is almost everything. Reflecting on the failure of the 2026 NPT Review Conference, Vietnamese Ambassador Do Hung Viet, the conference president, commented that it is a “fair judgment” to conclude that the US-Iran impasse, which “hung over our heads from the beginning,” together with the Ukraine War and North Korea’s nuclear arsenal, made consensus impossible. “Political concerns,” he said—including the race for artificial intelligence supremacy—“were overwhelming.”
As generations succeed one another, knowledge and wisdom are inevitably lost as well as gained. After two calamitous world wars that claimed between 75 and 97 million lives, the surviving great powers sought “to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war.” They attempted to do so while simultaneously securing their imperial powers and privileges. Thus Article 1 of the United Nations Charter committed governments “to maintain international peace and security, and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace…”
For the most part, this first commitment was honored—with significant exceptions in Indochina, Afghanistan, and interventions in Eastern Europe and the Caribbean. However, with the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rise of the Bush regime, great power relations reverted to the rules of the game among Mafia families. Drunk with arrogance, the US Bush government boasted: “We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you’re studying that reality, we’ll act again, creating other new realities… We’re history’s actors.”
Washington’s arrogance of power continued into the 1990s with the Bill Clinton Administration. Rather than respect Russian history, political culture, sensitivities, and ordinary Russians’ need for economic security, Clinton and his mandarins imposed another cataclysmic revolutionary change: neoliberal economic shock therapy. The result was massive dislocation, impoverishment, a rising death rate, and the restoration of an authoritarian government in Moscow.
Russia’s political and economic systems imploded during Boris Yeltsin’s rule. Despite George Kennan’s warning—Kennan was the architect of Cold War containment—that NATO expansion would lead to disastrous conflict; President Clinton did exactly that in 1999. He initiated NATO enlargement, bringing Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic into the alliance. As “history’s actors,” Bush II added seven Central and Eastern European nations to NATO in 2004. Then, in 2008, against the advice of his senior adviser Fiona Hill and over the opposition of Germany and France, Bush the Lesser forced an invitation to Ukraine and Georgia through NATO’s summit.
Given Russia’s memories of invasions from the west—Napoleon, the Kaiser, and Hitler—the Kremlin responded as Kennan and Hill had predicted. In an obvious breach of the UN Charter, the ostensibly defensive Russian invasion of Georgia followed. Meanwhile, even without Kiev becoming a formal NATO member, and in response to the alliance’s expanding military presence in Ukraine, President Putin reportedly began planning what became the disastrous “special military operation” as early as 2007. Even before, among the earliest and most egregious Bush-Cheney acts was the withdrawal from the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, then a cornerstone of arms control.
The little remaining mutual trust between the West and Russia was among the first casualties of the war. The war also spurred further NATO expansion, with Finland and Sweden joining the alliance and thus doubling the line of contact between NATO and Russia. In addition to the hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian and Russian casualties, US-Russian arms control agreements, including New START and Open Skies, became collateral damage. The new Cold War became even more dangerous as the US military-industrial complex and the Kremlin pressed to “modernize” their nuclear forces, and as European nations—fearing what Russian territorial ambitions might become—laid the foundations for a new European military superpower.
There is a mistaken but widespread belief that nuclear weapons have not been used since the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. This is wrong. As Daniel Ellsberg later wrote, during international crises and wars, US presidents have prepared to initiate nuclear war and have threatened to do so. They have done so in the same way that an armed robber points his gun at his victim’s head: Whether or not the trigger is pulled, the gun has been used. Not only during the Cuban Missile Crisis, but repeatedly during wars and interventions in the Middle East, the Vietnam War, the Taiwan Strait, and other crises, the United States has resorted to nuclear extortion. As former US Defense Secretary Harold Brown put it, with the US first-strike capacity and doctrine in place, our conventional forces become “meaningful instruments of military and political power.”
Noam Chomsky put it differently: “That means that under this umbrella of strategic nuclear weapons… we have succeeded in sufficiently intimidating anyone who might help protect people we are determined to attack.”
Although current geopolitical and technological landscapes are very different from those at the height of the first Cold War, we are not without diplomatic structures and models that can serve as foundations for trust-building dialogue and negotiations.
The United States is not the only nuclear power that has practiced nuclear blackmail. Every other nuclear-weapons state has done so at least once. As early as 1956, Prime Minister Nikolai Bulganin threatened London and Paris, hoping that the threat would force their withdrawal from Egypt during the Suez War. More recently, and to considerable effect, President Putin and former President and current Deputy Chairman of the Russian Security Council Dmitry Medvedev have engaged in nuclear saber-rattling.
Nuclear powers seek to legitimize their arsenals and “modernization” on the basis of deterrence theory—the idea that each new development is necessitated by the need to prevent a nuclear attack by a rival. In reality, the George H.W. Bush administration’s initial “Doctrine for Joint Nuclear Operations” gave the game away. As that document stated, “The focus of US deterrence efforts is… to influence potential adversaries to withhold actions intended to harm US national interests” The same applies to all other nuclear-weapons states. And as the history of false alerts, mistaken launch orders, accidents, and ill-conceived aggressions demonstrates, deterrence only works—until it doesn’t.
Even before the New START Treaty’s limit of 1,550 deployed strategic missiles expired, Washington and Moscow were arms racing. The US is spending $1.7 trillion to “modernize” and replace its entire nuclear triad—including its “use-them-or-lose-them” first-strike land-based intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs)—and is racing to renew warhead pit production.
Seeking to maintain parity, Russia is also developing and moving to deploy a range of new strategic-range weapons. These include a hypersonic boost-glide vehicle carried by the Sarmat “super-heavy” ICBM; an air-launched hypersonic ballistic missile capable of evasive maneuvers; a nuclear-powered cruise missile of “unlimited range”; a nuclear-powered unmanned underwater vehicle of “unlimited range”; and a sea-launched hypersonic missile.
President Trump, committed to regaining nuclear and high-tech superiority and to prevailing in the artificial intelligence competition with China, also seeks to spend trillions of dollars on his “Golden Dome” missile defense system. It will never work, but it will be profoundly destabilizing and will bankrupt the United States.
Making matters still more dangerous, US-Russian military-to-military communications are at their nadir. Moscow has made clear that it is disinterested in renewed risk reduction and arms control diplomacy until it is satisfied with the outcome of the Ukraine War.
Rebuilding trust is essential for any risk and arms reductions, but it will require patience and steadfast commitments on all sides. It seems clear that negotiating a new European security system will only become possible when the post-Ukraine War dust settles over the European strategic landscape. Similarly, greater clarity about Washington’s commitment to NATO, and about the credibility of massive European rearmament, will be critically important factors in approaching any new risk-reduction and strategic-stability negotiations.
In approaching the urgent need to restore stability to US-Russian-European relations, we should reflect on the differences between Western and Chinese approaches to arms control diplomacy. We can learn from the Chinese.
The Western approach has been an exclusive focus on negotiations about particular nuclear-weapons systems and doctrines. Chinese diplomats and leaders, on the other hand, wisely think it necessary to identify and address the underlying causes that drive nuclear arms races and potential conflict.
Given that there is no military solution to the Ukraine War, it is past time for a ceasefire, for compromises, and for multidimensional peace negotiations—Ukraine-Russia, EU-Russia, US-Russia. Only then can we begin to address the existential US-Russian nuclear risks with Common Security diplomacy.
Although current geopolitical and technological landscapes are very different from those at the height of the first Cold War, we are not without diplomatic structures and models that can serve as foundations for trust-building dialogue and negotiations.
Among these resources is the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). A post-Ukraine War 21st-century version of that conference could be a constructive way to begin building a new Common Security order. Although its 57 European, North American, and Asian member states have reduced their financial and other commitments to the OSCE—which is mandated to work for stability, peace, and democracy in Europe—it can still serve as a neutral forum for diplomatic engagement and negotiations for a new Eurasian and Euro-Atlantic order.
The OSCE grew out of the 1973 Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE), “a multilateral forum for dialogue and negotiation between East and West.” Among its initiatives was the Helsinki Process, involving 35 nations that agreed to the inviolability of post-World War II frontiers, reinforced commitments to human rights, and facilitated the institutionalization of the OSCE.
Track II and other discussions among Europeans, Russians, and Americans have continued despite the war, and they have identified numerous traditional paths to nuclear risk reduction and arms control possibilities. A laundry list of sometimes competing proposals has been developed and can be drawn on when the time is ripe.
We can create visions and policies that reduce the growing nuclear danger and lead to arms control, common security, and nuclear disarmament.
Alexey Arbatov, of the Center for International Security at the Primakov Institute in Moscow, identified two conditions essential for arms control diplomacy during the Cold War: “a state of mutual nuclear deterrence” and “the emergence of approximate equality (parity) of strategic forces” of the dominant nuclear powers. A new conceptual approach, he argues, requires acknowledging the realities of multilateral deterrence, incorporating the security interests of all nuclear-armed states, and rebuilding strategic stability through inclusive frameworks rather than bilateral bargains. Chinese, French, and British nuclear arsenals, plus the nuclear four outside the NPT regime, must be factored into any negotiations. We are thus challenged by at least a four-dimensional diplomatic puzzle, and finding a solution is an urgent necessity.
There is a third requirement without which there can be no exit from a bellicose and mutually debilitating future: trust. It can only be developed over time, through patient confidence-building measures. These could include continuing to honor New START deployment limits and refraining from uploading additional warheads onto existing missiles. Wolfgang Richter, a former German colonel now associated with the Geneva Centre for Security Policy, writes that overcoming the current vicious circle of distrust requires “renewed and credible mutual commitment confirming that the independence and territorial integrity of states will be respected.” This could be achieved by a settlement of the Russia-Ukraine War and by trust-building initiatives between Russia and its European neighbors.
Even before the Ukraine War ends and opens the way for risk reduction and arms control negotiations, many on both sides of the US-Russia divide agree that the first priority must be preventing a resumption of nuclear-weapons testing, which President Trump has threatened. Related, and possibly of equal importance, is to honor and sustain the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty in the wake of the recent failed review conference.
Another limited but encouraging proposal is to convene a US-Russia-China leadership summit, at which a version of the Reagan-Gorbachev warning—that nuclear war can never be won and must not be fought—is reiterated. This would open the way for officials and experts to explore jointly how to reduce nuclear risk.
Unhinged and dangerous as he is, we need to acknowledge that despite his recent nuclear threat to Iran, over the years Trump has been willing to talk with Russia, and he has repeatedly stated that he wants movement toward denuclearization. Not that he has done much to make that happen.
Given the political environment in most European countries, and with Germany and France now competing for European military leadership as confidence in NATO wanes, initiatives for risk reduction and greater strategic stability inevitably lie with Washington and Moscow. If progress can be made by the US and Russia, Europeans could then be brought in.
Military-to-military communication needs to be revitalized, perhaps beginning with crisis communications, especially as drone warfare and wayward Ukrainian and Russian drones increase the danger of miscalculation. Building on the tradition of the Vienna Document, communication could then be expanded regarding troop movements, military exercises, and more. Addressing the growing military competition for control of the Arctic could be one place to begin.
Even though Russia and the United States have functionally withdrawn from the Open Skies verification treaty, 32 member states continue to honor it. A return to Russian and US participation would be a comparatively easy means to signal intentions to improve relations, and an important step toward trust building.
Like cultural exchanges in the past, trust can be built in many ways by renewing cooperative commitments. Low-hanging fruit could include building on the decades-long International Space Station collaboration; renewed scientific cooperation across the Arctic, where thawing permafrost poses increasing climate and health dangers; and, always, people-to-people exchanges.
Magic wands are in short supply. As the biblical proverb advises, “Where there is no vision, the people perish.” Across the lines and structures that divide us, like the Hibakusha and the men and women who preserved human survival through the worst of the Cold War, we can create visions and policies that reduce the growing nuclear danger and lead to arms control, common security, and nuclear disarmament. Naming, dialogue, and debate are essential building blocks to get there.
Trump’s defenders argue that his contradictory actions are strategic. It’s more likely that panic has him flailing. His gut instinct led him to make a colossal mistake, and he has no idea what to do next.
President Donald Trump launched the Iran war based on his “gut instinct.” Global financial markets—the North Star that guides Trump—are telling him what his advisers and congressional Republicans won’t: His “gut” blew it badly, and his efforts to appease the markets are making the debacle worse.
He has proceeded in three phases. We’re now at the Trump panic phase.
Trump ignored the facts and relied on gut instinct to launch the war without making the case to America’s allies or the public:
We were having negotiations with these lunatics, and it was my opinion that they were going to attack first.
Trump’s baseless opinion contradicted the justification for war that Secretary of State Marco Rubio had provided to Congress a day earlier. Rubio said that Israel was going to attack and that Iran would retaliate by attacking US interests in the region.
Even worse, Trump ignored long-predicted consequences:
Trump’s initial assurance that the war would be over in “four to six weeks” offered the markets only sporadic and temporary relief. So he started down the slippery slope of eliminating longstanding sanctions on Russian oil.
Oil and natural gas are Russia’s most important sources of revenue, accounting for 30% to 50% of the federal budget. Sanctions had forced Russia to charge India $22 per barrel in January, putting Russian President Vladimir Putin’s economy on an unsustainable path. But on March 5, Trump issued a 30-day waiver allowing India’s purchases from Russia.
Trump’s waiver was a boon to Putin, but the global price of oil kept rising and the markets kept falling.
On March 11, Trump released 172 million barrels from the nation’s Strategic Petroleum Reserve—the world’s largest supply source of emergency crude oil. But the oil would not make a dent in the global market, would take 120 days to deliver, and would leave the Strategic Reserve at its lowest level since 1982.
The price of oil kept rising, and the markets kept falling.
On March 13, over the objections of the European Union, Trump removed sanctions on Russian oil that was already at sea. It was another gift to Putin, but the price of oil kept rising and the markets kept falling.
On March 20, Trump lifted sanctions on 140 million barrels of Iranian oil “currently stranded at sea.” In addition to providing Iran with $14 billion windfall, his action contradicted Trump’s contemporaneous claims that he had “won” the war and was considering “winding it down.”
As Brett Erickson, managing principal at a firm that specializes in financial crime and regulatory issues, observed: “You don’t unsanction Iranian oil if you’re winding down. This is the action of an administration that has no exit ramp and knows it. The word for that is desperation.”
Meanwhile, the price of oil kept rising, and the markets kept falling.
Trump’s panic became clear on Saturday, March 21, when he threatened to commit a war crime:
If Iran doesn’t FULLY OPEN, WITHOUT THREAT, the Strait of Hormuz, within 48 HOURS from this exact point in time, the United States of America will hit and obliterate their various POWER PLANTS, STARTING WITH THE BIGGEST ONE FIRST!
By Monday morning, the price of oil was skyrocketing and Asian and European markets were sinking. Shortly before the US stock market opened, Trump panicked again. He withdrew his threat and said that because the US and Iran had held “productive” talks, he was postponing the attack on Iranian’s energy infrastructure for five days.
The price of oil dropped more than 10%, and global markets soared. Meanwhile, it appeared that insiders with knowledge of Trump’s planned announcement made hundreds of millions of dollars in pre-announcement bets that crude oil prices would decline.
But then Iran’s foreign ministry denied Trump’s assertion about settlement talks, although through intermediaries the US and Iran had exchanged messages that “appeared to be short of negotiations.”
Within a day, the price of oil resumed its upward climb and the financial markets fell.
Panic begets panic. On March 26, Trump announced a 10-day extension to April 6 of his prior threat to commit a war crime by attacking Iran’s energy facilities. He asserted that settlement negotiations were proceeding while at the same time issuing contradictory statements about his war plans:
The Iranians “were begging for a deal,” but “they better get serious” and “talks were going very well.”
He wanted US allies to help secure the Strait of Hormuz, but didn’t care if they refused.
“We already won the war,” but Trump was massing more than 50,000 US troops in the region and threatened a ground assault on Iran’s main oil production facility.
He “may or may not” use the military to secure Iran’s uranium.
Trump’s defenders argue that his contradictory actions are strategic. It’s more likely that panic has him flailing. His gut instinct led him to make a colossal mistake, and he has no idea what to do next.
Worst of all for Trump: The financial markets are finally on to him.
We have to keep talking about, writing about, and organizing against nuclear weapons to prevent the Doomsday Clock from reaching midnight.
“I’m not scared, you’re scared!” is the repeated line in a children’s story we recently read to the kids at the Unitarian Universalist version of Sunday school I attend with my children. In that story, a scared bear and a brave rabbit, who (naturally!) are best friends, go on a hike together. Rabbit has to cajole and encourage Bear through every imaginable obstacle, but in the end (of course!) it’s Rabbit who gets stuck at the crucial moment and has to call on Bear for help. Bear (no surprise) sets aside his fears to rescue his friend and (tada!) finds new depths of bravery and adventurousness in the process.
After we read the story, the kids worked together to build paths from blocks and Legos through the imagined obstacles in the story—a bridge over a rushing river, a path through a dark forest, a staircase up a steep mountain. It was one of our most engaging classes in recent memory, while the kids kept saying, “I’m not scared, you’re scared!” and laughing while they played. As we stacked blocks and fit Legos together, we adults were supposed to help the kids identify things they were afraid of and how they could confront those fears. For me, it was just one thing too many. I blanked on that part of the assignment.
In fact, I was a little relieved to have done so. Of course, I have fears myself, but I’m not afraid of spiders or heights or small spaces like so many people. I am afraid of nuclear war—not something I would want to confess to a bunch of kids sitting on carpet squares.
What should I have said? “Okay, kids, I know some of you are afraid of monsters or werewolves or the Wither Storm in Minecraft, but I’ll tell you something truly terrifying: the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists just moved its Doomsday Clock to 85 seconds to ‘nuclear midnight,’ four seconds closer than ever before.” I would have gotten blank stares and quick subject changes and yet, once I had started, I would undoubtedly have kept on sharing the telltale heart of my own bogeyman. “When I was a kid in the 1980s,” I would have said, “we were at three minutes to metaphorical midnight and my dad, who was an activist, wouldn’t even let me go to the movies. Now, they have pushed it even closer—closer than ever before. With nine countries armed with nuclear weapons, we’ve tick-tocked ourselves to 85 seconds to midnight. Yep, 85 seconds, by the way, is probably less time than it takes you to spell your full name or tie your shoes.”
Trump’s famous wrecking ball that blasted the East Wing and the Kennedy Center is now aimed at the nuclear treaty architecture built up over the decades.
Of course, I kept those long-winded, fact-filled fears to myself at that Sunday school. But I’ll tell you all that, in truth, it’s far worse than even what I thought that day. The Bulletin‘s scientists who made the announcement about those 85 seconds to midnight were contending with more than nuclear dangers (which have, by the way, never been more imminent). Those scientists were also responding to the speeding up of catastrophic climate change and the threats posed by artificial intelligence (AI). In the words of Daniel Holz on the Bulletin‘s Science and Security Board, “The dangerous trends in nuclear risk, climate change, disruptive technologies like AI, and biosecurity are accompanied by another frightening development: the rise of nationalistic autocracies in countries around the world. Our greatest challenges require international trust and cooperation, and a world splintering into ‘us versus them’ will leave all of humanity more vulnerable.”
Yes, all of humanity is vulnerable indeed—like my young friends building Lego bridges across felt rivers for a Bear and a Rabbit birthed in late night comedian Seth Meyers’s imagination.
And as if all of that weren’t terrifying enough, Thursday, February 5 marked the end of arms control as we’ve known it. The last treaty controlling nuclear weapons between my country and Russia expired without a replacement on that day, leaving us all vulnerable to the whims of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. There are reports of a handshake deal between the two countries to extend the principles of the treaty, but haphazard and informal agreements are simply not “arms control” (at least as we once knew it).
The Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty, known as New START, was signed by US President Barack Obama and Russian President Dmitry Medvedev in 2010 and set out a schedule for verifiable and commensurate nuclear arsenal reductions. It was renewed under Republican and Democratic administrations, but it is very “on brand” for strongmen Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin to deride international treaties of any sort.
Unfortunately, the sort of muscular bombast they’re known for isn’t what’s kept the world reasonably safe from nuclear war for the last eight decades, since the atomic bombings of the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945. Rather, it was a tight web of treaties—the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty, START I and II, New START, the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, and the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty—that kept the whole world safe (or as safe as we could be with ever more nuclear-armed powers proliferating across the planet). That alphabet soup of promises, schedules, and commensurate acts of disarmament, as fragile and incremental as it was, resulted in the dismantlement of 80% of the US and Russian arsenals over the decades.
Now, we are all being dragged in the other direction.
Trump’s famous wrecking ball that blasted the East Wing and the Kennedy Center is now aimed at the nuclear treaty architecture built up over the decades. In its place, he proposes to construct a Golden Dome missile defense system to protect the United States from incoming nuclear weapons. And that fool’s errand could not only lead us toward nuclear war, but have a price tag in the trillions of dollars.
With his administration’s gold-plated, AI-enhanced sense of aggression, President Trump is now taking aim at NATO, an alliance the United States helped to build after World War II. His administration is abrogating agreements, leveling tariffs, and threatening to annex Greenland. Europe is getting the message that the United States is no longer a reliable ally, stoking concerns that yet more countries will move to create nuclear arsenals. Meanwhile, Vladimir Putin’s Russia is investing more money in nuclear weapons and the Russian strongman has actually threatened to use such weapons, while already at war in a part of Europe.
Of course, Russia and the United States are anything but the only nuclear states these days. China, France, the United Kingdom, Israel, India, Pakistan, and North Korea round out the rogue’s gallery of—to come up with a word of my own—Obliterables.
In 2024 alone, those nine nuclear-armed states spent more than $100 billion on such weaponry, an 11% increase over the year before, according to the Nobel Peace Prize-winning International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN). For example, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists‘ Nuclear Notebook finds that China is rapidly and aggressively increasing its nuclear arsenal. Beijing, it points out, has “significantly expanded its ongoing nuclear modernization program by fielding more types and greater numbers of nuclear weapons than ever before.”
Throughout Asia and Europe, the leaders of all too many countries are openly discussing regional pacts and the need to develop their own nuclear weapons programs. They are reviving the moribund logic of proliferators—that only more nuclear weapons can protect us against nuclear weapons. And that is exactly the wrong conclusion to draw in this already endangered world of ours.
Instead of all this unilateralism and nuclear proliferation, nuclear and nuclear-adjacent nations should be signing on to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. It’s clear and smart, and its goals are achievable. In essence, it prohibits countries from developing, testing, producing, stockpiling, transferring, or threatening to use (no less actually using) nuclear weapons. And if that seems remarkably comprehensive, it actually goes further, prohibiting nations from allowing nuclear weapons to be stationed on their territory. It also prohibits assisting, encouraging, or forcing any other country to engage in any of these activities.
Thursday, January 22 marked five years since that treaty entered into force as international law and was adopted by a significant majority of the countries on this planet. On that day, I joined a handful of people gathered at the General Dynamics complex in New London, Connecticut (where I live). We celebrated the 74 nations that have ratified the treaty and the 25 more that have signed it and are in the process of ratifying it. My country, the United States, of course, stands outside of the global consensus on nuclear disarmament.
That same week after the Doomsday Clock moved four seconds closer to midnight, I wrote an essay for my local paper in New London. In less than 800 words, I tried to describe the massive nexus of decisions and dangers that went along with that four-second nudge closer to a metaphorical midnight for us all.
I shared my essay with my 11-year-old daughter Madeline while we sat in the bleachers at a local pool, watching her older brother swim with his swim team. She’s a wise little sixth grader who regularly pays attention when I least expect it. “Look what I did, Madeline,” I said, and showed her a screenshot of my article on my phone. The title was “Closing in on Nuclear Midnight; There’s Still Time to Disarm.” And then I explained to her that it was focused on how the Doomsday Clock had just moved closer to midnight.
“Oh,” she said, “I had a full-blown anxiety attack last week because Joanna told me that the flu shot wasn’t going to work.” Joanna is a seventh-grade friend of hers whose words carry a lot of weight.
I can all too easily spin out into an anxiety attack if I don’t continue to anchor myself to that little speech I made to Madeline, reminding myself of the real work people are doing to make this world a more bearable place.
I struggled to make the connection between that and what I had just shown her. Madeline added flatly, “A whole day of actual anxiety because of that news.”
“You’re going to be fine,” I said, far too quickly. “You’re healthy and, even if you get the flu, you’ll survive just fine.”
Then I slowed down. Of course, she was anxious. There was plenty to be anxious about in this Trumpian world of ours. Masked men in the streets, pulling some people out of cars through broken windows and shooting others in broad daylight. Tear gas, blockades, and crying kids on the nightly news (which we still watch sometimes).
But her fear of a flu shot and the flu she might still get was the right-sized fear for a sixth grader. Flagrant fascism, paramilitary violence, naked racism: those are massive fears for the preteen mind, as large as her mother’s fixation on nuclear war.
I need to tread carefully here, I thought, since panic and fear are contagious and erode rationality. Panic and fear cause isolation and paranoia. And while no one should panic about nuclear weapons, I thought, there’s certainly plenty to be afraid of. So, I pulled her a little closer to me, while remembering a professor at Rutgers who estimated that even a regional nuclear war would have a staggering global impact.
As a group of authors wrote in Nature Food in 2022, “In a nuclear war, bombs targeted on cities and industrial areas would start firestorms, injecting large amounts of soot into the upper atmosphere, which would spread globally and rapidly cool the planet.”
Such an upside-down atomic version of climate change would have a widespread impact on agriculture globally, leading to massive famines. They estimated that more than 2 billion people might die from a “limited” nuclear war between long-time nuclear rivals India and Pakistan.
Brutal, right? I chose to keep that information to myself in the bleachers at that swimming pool. The flu shot, not global famine, I thought to myself. Stay right-sized in this conversation with her.
But my little girl moves fast and she makes connections—and she’s fascinated by time. She’s worn a watch forever and always wants to know how long something will take. (“When?” is her favorite question.) So, it was no surprise to me that the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists clock fascinated her.
“85 seconds is not a long time, Mom. I mean, look,” and she made a quick little circle with her hand. “That’s like 85 seconds, so what does it mean that we’re 85 seconds to midnight?”
“Well,” I began, my voice suddenly breaking as I imagined the hellscapes of Hiroshima, those grim graphs in the Nature Food paper, and my daughter’s future.
“No, Mom,” she said. (She didn’t want my big emotions.) “Just tell me what happens when we get to midnight.”
“Well,” I began again, “if we hit midnight on their clock, that is the end of the world as we know it.”
“But that isn’t going to happen, right, Mom?” She replied with her usual firm confidence that I always admire and am invariably curious about, wondering where it comes from.
“It hasn’t happened yet, love,” was the best I could muster. “And the reason it hasn’t happened is that so many people all over the world all the time are resisting, pushing back, passing legislation, holding up signs, making documentaries, urging divestment from nuclear-related corporations, being creative and brave, calling for disarmament in every language we human beings speak.”
I’m stirred by my own rhetoric! “Nice!” I think to myself, but I can see her attention has slipped away.
I had, however, said the thing she needed to hear—that people are working to keep nuclear midnight from happening. She sees me working to do so, too. She sees me suiting up for another frigid session of sign holding at General Dynamics, the fourth largest weapons maker in this country with a huge complex in our neighborhood in Connecticut. She sees me coming home from a long organizing meeting. She knows I have some of the answers to the questions that her tidy brain can’t quite yet put into words. She thinks I’ve got things under control, so she snuggles closer to me and goes back to worrying about her friend’s flu shot warning, or where she left her library card and what she’s going to wear to school tomorrow that will be warm, cute, and not too matchy.
Of course, I don’t have it under control. I can all too easily spin out into an anxiety attack if I don’t continue to anchor myself to that little speech I made to Madeline, reminding myself of the real work people are doing to make this world a more bearable place.
The International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons is engaged in the steady work of adding nations to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, while continuing to build a global consensus for disarmament. Ira Helfand and the Back from the Brink network are working on public education, movement building, and the excruciating but important task of trying to get congressional legislation passed to prevent nuclear war. Leona Morgan and many other Indigenous activists are working to protect the environment, halt uranium mining, and win compensation for “downwinders” from what were once nuclear testing sites. Makoma Lekalakala and other international activists are mobilizing to oppose nuclear proliferation, resist the mining of uranium, and deal with other affronts to our world and health. Don’t Bank on the Bomb is leading the effort of individuals, organizations, and financial groups to divest from nuclear industries. And all of that work is indeed yielding dividends!
So, I refuse to let myself be scared. And so should you.
We have to keep talking about, writing about, and organizing against nuclear weapons—not at the expense of all the other work that so desperately needs to be done right now in this dread-inducing world of ours, but to preserve at least those 85 seconds for our children and grandchildren.
“The United States and Russia already have enough deployed nuclear weapons to kill tens of millions of people in an hour and devastate the world," said one expert, warning a lapse will "only make the world less safe."
If New START expires on Thursday, it will be the first time in decades that the United States and Russia don't have a nuclear arms control treaty, and experts have been sounding the alarm about the arms race that likely lies ahead.
“The expiration of New START would be massively destabilizing and potentially very costly both in terms of economics and security," said Jennifer Knox, a research and policy analyst at the Union of Concerned Scientists' (UCS) Global Security Program, in a Tuesday statement.
"The United States and Russia already have enough deployed nuclear weapons to kill tens of millions of people in an hour and devastate the world," Knox pointed out. "Letting New START lapse would erase decades of hard-won progress and only make the world less safe."
New START was signed in April 2010, under the Obama administration, and entered into force the following February. A decade later, just days into the Biden administration, it was renewed for five years. In 2022, Russia invaded neighboring Ukraine—an ongoing conflict—and the next year, Russian President Vladimir Putin suspended his country's participation in the treaty, though he has not withdrawn.
"The global security environment facing the United States is very different from when New START was first negotiated, but it remains true that bounding an open-ended, costly arms race will still require some form of agreement between Washington and Moscow," said Ankit Panda, the Stanton senior fellow in the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace's Nuclear Policy Program, in a statement.
"The public and lawmakers alike must recognize that we are on the cusp of a fundamentally new nuclear age—one that is more unpredictable, complex, and dangerous than anything we've witnessed post-Cold War," warned Panda, one of the experts participating in a Wednesday briefing about the treaty. "A big risk is that without any quantitative limits or hands-on verification, we'll end up with compounding worst-case-scenario thinking in both capitals, as during the Cold War."
While Putin has halted US inspections of Russian nuclear facilities, he has still proposed extending the treaty for a year. Tara Drozdenko, director of the UCS Global Security Program, said that "abiding by New START for another year would be a win-win-win for the United States, Russia, and the rest of the world... The Trump administration should take swift action to publicly acknowledge that the United States will continue to abide by New START in the interim."
However, US President Donald Trump—who fancies himself as a deal-maker—hasn't expressed an interest in fighting for the pact, telling the New York Times last month that "if it expires, it expires," and "I'd rather do a new agreement that's much better."
Trump has called for China—which has the most nuclear weapons after Russia and the United States, and is building up its arsenal—to be part of a new deal, but Beijing hasn't signaled it will do so. Putin has proposed participation from France and the United Kingdom. The other nuclear-armed nations are India, Israel, North Korea, and Pakistan.
Noting Trump's comments to the Times and aspiration for the Chinese government to join, Jennifer Kavanagh, director of military analysis at the think tank Defense Priorities, declared that "this is wishful thinking–if the administration thinks getting a new 'better' treaty after this one lapses will be easy, they are mistaken."
"New START's end brings few benefits and lots of risks to the United States, especially as Washington tries to stabilize relations with rivals like Russia and China," she said, suggesting that Trump "would be better off hanging on to the agreement he has a little longer before trying to get a better one."
Dmitry Medvedev, a Putin ally who signed the treaty while serving as president and is now deputy chairman of the Russian Security Council, said in a Monday interview with Reuters, TASS, and the WarGonzo project that "our proposal remains on the table, the treaty has not yet expired, and if the Americans want to extend it, that can be done."
"For almost 60 years, we haven't had a situation where strategic nuclear potentials weren't limited in some way. Now such a situation is possible," he noted. "I spent almost my entire life, starting from 1972, under the umbrella of the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty."
"In some ways, even with all the costs, it is still an element of trust," Medvedev said. "When such a treaty exists, there is trust. When it doesn't, that trust is exhausted. The fact that we are now in this situation is clear evidence of a crisis in international relations. This is absolutely obvious."
Considering New START's potential expiration this week, the Russian leader said that "I don't want to say that this immediately means a catastrophe and a nuclear war, but it should still alert everyone. The clock that is ticking will, in this case, undoubtedly accelerate again."
According to Reuters, he was referencing the Doomsday Clock. Last week, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists' Science and Security Board set the symbolic clock at 85 seconds to midnight, the closest it has ever been to global catastrophe, citing various developments, including a failure to extend the treaty, Russian weapons tests, and China's growing arsenal.
"In 2025, it was almost impossible to identify a nuclear issue that got better," Jon B. Wolfsthal, a board member and director of global risk at the Federation of American Scientists (FAS), said last week. "More states are relying more intently on nuclear weapons, multiple states are openly talking about using nuclear weapons for not only deterrence but for coercion. Hundreds of billions are being spent to modernize and expand nuclear arsenals all over the world, and more and more non-nuclear states are considering whether they should acquire their own nuclear weapons or are hedging their nuclear bets."
"Instead of stoking the fires of the nuclear arms competition, nuclear states are reducing their own security and putting the entire planet at risk. Leaders of all states must relearn the lessons of the Cold War—no one wins a nuclear arms race, and the only way to reduce nuclear dangers is through binding agreement to limit the size and shape of their nuclear arsenals," he argued. "Nuclear states and their partners need to invest now in proven crisis communication and risk reduction tools, recommit to preventing the spread of nuclear weapons, refrain from nuclear threats, and pursue a more predictable and stable global security system."
Regarding New START specifically, FAS Nuclear Information Project associate director Matt Korda stressed this week that "we are about to enter an era of unconstrained nuclear competition without any guardrails. Not only will there no longer be anything stopping the nuclear superpowers from nearly doubling their deployed nuclear arsenals, but they would now be doing so in an environment of mutual distrust, opacity, and worst-case thinking."
"While New START was a bilateral agreement between Russia and the United States, its expiration will have far-reaching consequences for the world," he said. "There are no benefits from a costly arms buildup that brings us right back to where we started, but there would be real advantages in pursuing transparency and predictability in an otherwise unpredictable world."
We only have one planet on which to live and time is of the essence.
Among the critical issues facing our country today, nuclear arms control is seldom top of mind for most people, understandably, given our myriad political, social and economic crises. Recent books and films such as Annie Jacobsen’s 2004 non-fiction tome Nuclear War: A Scenario and last fall’s A House of Dynamite, directed by Kathryn Bigelow, garnered needed attention for the still-existential threat of nuclear weapons, yet the problem remains mostly absent from our political discourse.
Part of the fault for that lies with President Donald Trump, who while constantly touting his ability to “make deals,” is missing in action on a simple agreement that would make the US and the world safer. New START, the arms control treaty negotiated by President Barack Obama and extended by President Joe Biden, will expire on February 5. However, Russia offered last September a one year, or longer, extension of the treaty’s key limits of 1550 deployed, strategic nuclear warheads and 700 launch systems each.
Trump simply needs to say “Da” (yes) to the Russian proposal, which would cost very little politically at this time. While both countries, along with the seven other nuclear weapons states, are in the midst of dangerous and exorbitant nuclear weapons “modernization” programs, neither are in a position to rapidly exceed the current New START limits, nor should they, for global security and financial reasons. While both countries tout their in-development bombs and missiles that could end most if not all life on Earth, at the cost of more life-affirming investments in human needs and protecting our planet, the reality is these systems, such as the new Sentinel Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM), are boondoggles that mostly benefit the financial interests of the large weapons contractors rather than the Common Good.
Should Trump blow this chance, his global approval, already dismal, will doubtless decline further.
Then there is Trump’s fantasy of building a “Golden Dome” missile defense shield. Such a chimera is more properly seen as part of a potential offensive nuclear war fighting scheme rather than mere defense; that is if it works, which it is extremely unlikely to do. So it could be a lose-lose-lose scenario, whereby it spurs other countries to deploy more missiles and counter-measures to overcome such a missile “defense;” and it likely would not work to shoot down all incoming missiles (and would be useless against other forms of attack); and it could be used to argue arms control and disarmament treaties are unnecessary, because the shield will protect us, providing a dangerously false sense of security.
One does not need to engage in all the arguments against Golden Dome, or for investing in other, more economically productive pursuits, or think a nuclear weapons-free world is achievable any time soon, to agree that ditching the benefits of New START is a stunningly bad idea at this time.
The US and Russia (formerly the Soviet Union) have had a series of treaties limiting and reducing nuclear weapons since 1972. If New START limits go away, we will enter a very dangerous brave new world.
Trump’s famously insatiable ego could be slaked by not only agreeing to the Russian proposal, but by challenging Moscow to initiate new talks to go lower. At the end of the Obama Administration and in its aftermath, there were conflicting claims by the US and Russia on which side whiffed at a chance to go lower, to 1,000 deployed strategic warheads each. So Trump could propose something his nemesis Obama failed to do. Such an agreement might take a sustained period of negotiation, or Trump could do as President George H. W. Bush did in 1991 in announcing a unilateral nuclear weapons cut, which was coordinated with and matched by Russia, with mutually agreed verification procedures.
Trust between Moscow and Washington is low for various reasons, but neither country can afford, politically or economically, to engage in a futile, costly new arms race, and global public reprobation would be deservedly harsh for both countries. And it would further erode any credibility for the US to insist China engage in arms reduction talks regarding its arsenal, which is still much smaller than those of Russia and the US. Even at the height of the Cold War, with the Soviet Union and United States competing for global dominance and engaging in deadly “proxy wars” and armed interventions around the globe, the two sides saw the wisdom of not blowing up the planet, and collaborated on a series of treaties that dramatically reduced their nuclear arsenals, which made the world safer.
Should Trump blow this chance, his global approval, already dismal, will doubtless decline further. Upcoming international review conferences of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) this spring and the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) this fall, both at the United Nations in New York, will likely lay the blame for a renewed arms race at his feet.
It is not (yet) too late. A coalition of US peace and disarmament organizations is mobilizing public action to press Congress and the White House to accept the Kremlin’s offer, if not by Thursday’s deadline, then as soon as possible. For more information on how to raise your voice on this critical issue, concerned individuals can consult Peace Action’s FaceBook page.
Time is of the essence. We only have one planet.
"This is a board of colonial administration, run by war criminals and kleptocrats," said one critic. "It has zero legitimacy."
Criticism of President Donald Trump's so-called "Board of Peace" mounted Monday after the White House invited controversial figures—including two leaders wanted by the International Criminal Court for alleged war crimes—to join the body tasked with supporting the management and reconstruction of Gaza.
Among Trump's latest invitees to the board are Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko, Russian President Vladimir Putin, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Lukashenko has repressively ruled Belarus for over 30 years and supports Putin's ongoing invasion and occupation of Ukraine, for which the Russian president is wanted by the International Criminal Court for alleged war crimes. Netanyahu is also wanted by the ICC for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity in Gaza.
Trump—who has bombed 10 countries over his two terms in office—will chair the organization, whose executive board will also include former British leader and alleged war criminal Tony Blair, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, US Mideast Envoy Steve Witkoff, World Bank President Ajay Banga, billionaire businessman Marc Rowan, real estate investor and Trump son-in-law Jared Kushner—who has publicly called for the ethnic cleansing of Gaza—and others.
"As if the people of Gaza have not suffered enough," Global Justice Now director Nick Dearden said on Bluesky. "But Blair’s inclusion confirms the obvious—this is a board of colonial administration, run by war criminals and kleptocrats. It has zero legitimacy."
Leaders of countries including Argentina, Canada, Egypt, France, Hungary, India, Italy, Jordan, Kazakhstan, Thailand, and Turkey were also invited to join the board. So was the European Union, with whom US relations are strained over issues including Trump's tariffs and threats to invade Greenland, an autonomous Danish territory and NATO member.
Countries seeking permanent Board of Peace membership will be required to pay a $1 billion fee. A US official told the Associated Press that the fee would go toward reconstructing the obliterated Palestinian strip following more than two years of Israel's genocidal assault and siege.
There are no Palestinians on the board.
A separate National Committee for the Administration of Gaza—a 12-member technocratic body led by Palestinian official Ali Shaath and tasked with managing day-to-day affairs in the strip—held its inaugural meeting last week in Cairo as Witkoff said that Phase 2 of Trump’s 20-point peace plan for Gaza had begun.
While Trump's invitation letters to prospective Board of Peace members said the body will “embark on a bold new approach to resolving global conflict," critics panned the panel as a vanity project for Trump, who fancies himself a grand peacemaker despite having bombed seven countries in the first year of his second term.
"I hope he can find time to attend Board of Peace meetings between meetings about invasions of Venezuela, Iran, Greenland, Canada, and Minneapolis," University of Denver political scientist Seth Masket said of Trump in a Bluesky post.
Former US State Department diplomat Aaron David Miller told the Washington Post Monday, “The Board of Peace is a concept tethered to a galaxy far, far away, not tethered to the realities back here on planet Earth."
"The Board of Peace is not going to be able to solve the conflict in Sudan. It is not going to do what American mediators and Europeans couldn’t do with respect to getting a ceasefire in Ukraine," he continued.
"We need on-the-ground diplomacy, not the performative creation of committees and bringing large numbers of countries and individuals into a process in which most of them will have no role," Miller added. "You need Trump. You need Netanyahu. You need Hamas’s internal and external leadership, and you need the Qataris and the Turks.”
On Monday, far-right Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich condemned the Board of Peace.
“It is time to explain to the president that his plan is bad for the state of Israel and to cancel it,” Smotrich said during a ceremony to inaugurate the new Yatziv apartheid settlement in the illegally occupied West Bank. “Gaza is ours, its future will affect our future more than anyone else’s. We will take responsibility for what happens there, impose military administration, and complete the mission.”
This, after Netanyahu said earlier in a rare public rebuke of Trump that the board “was not coordinated with Israel and runs contrary to its policy.”
Nearly a year ago, Trump also said that the US would "own" Gaza, ethnically cleanse it of Palestinians, and transform the coastal strip into the "Riviera of the Middle East." He later clarified that he meant the "voluntary" transfer of Palestinians, which critics said amounted to a euphemism for ethnic cleansing.
The White House also reportedly circulated a plan to transform a substantially depopulated Gaza into a high-tech hub replete with a "Gaza Trump Riviera and Islands" development and an "Elon Musk Smart Manufacturing Zone."
Palestinians have largely been highly skeptical of the Board of Peace.
"When I read the names of the peace council members, I felt this was not a plan that prioritizes the interests of Gaza's residents," Sameh Abu Marsa, a forcibly displaced Palestinian living in a refugee camp in Gaza City, told Xinhua Monday. "It looks more like a new form of international mandate, with decisions made externally and without participation from people on the ground."
"These names suggest political deals rather than genuine peace," he added.
Khaled Elgindy, a Palestinian scholar at Georgetown University's Center for Contemporary Arab Studies, said on X Saturday that "tellingly, there is not a single reference to Palestinians, their rights, interests, or even a future [Palestinian] state—none of which are a priority for Blair, Trump, or the so-called Board of Peace."
Others noted the continuing dire humanitarian crisis in Gaza as Israel restricts the entry of aid, as well as Israel's more than 1,200 violations of the three-month ceasefire with Hamas. According to the Gaza Health Ministry, at least 465 Palestinians have been killed and 1,287 wounded since the tenuous truce took effect on October 10.
"How can we talk about a peace council while Israel's violations continue here?" asked Khan Younis resident Abdul Raouf Awad.
The attacks came as Trump and Zelenskyy are expected to discuss critical questions in a Ukraine-Russia peace deal, including its territorial sovereignty, NATO protections, and control over its natural resources.
As Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy made his way to Florida for a pivotal set of talks this weekend with US President Donald Trump, Russia launched a barrage of drone and missile attacks on Kyiv early Saturday morning.
At least two people were killed in the Ukrainian capital during the 10-hour attack, with 44 more—including two children—injured. Hundreds of thousands of residents are left to brave near-freezing temperatures without heat following the attack, which cut off power supplies.
The attack came as Zelenskyy prepared to stop in Canada before meeting with Trump on Sunday to discuss a 20-point plan to end the nearly four-year war with Russia that has been the subject of weeks of negotiation between US and Ukrainian emissaries.
Zelenskyy is seeking to maintain Ukraine's territorial sovereignty without having to surrender territory—namely, the eastern Donbass region that is largely occupied by Russian forces. He also hopes that any agreement to end the war will come with a long-term security guarantee reminiscent of NATO.
On Friday, Zelenskyy told reporters that the peace deal was 90% complete. But Trump retorted that Zelenskyy "doesn't have anything until I approve it."
Trump has expressed hostility toward Zelenskyy throughout his presidency. In February, before berating him in a now-infamous Oval Office meeting, Trump insisted falsely that Ukraine, not Russia, was responsible for starting the war in 2022.
Zelenskyy's latest peace proposal was issued in response to Trump's proposal last month, which was heavily weighted in Russia's favor.
It called for Ukraine to recognize Russia's illegal annexation of Crimea and cede the entirety of the Donbass, about 2,500 square miles of territory, to Russia, including territory not yet captured. Trump's plan puts a cap of 600,000 personnel on Ukraine's military and calls for Ukraine to add a measure in its constitution banning it from ever joining NATO.
Earlier this year, Trump demanded that Ukraine give up $500 billion worth of its mineral wealth in what he said was "repayment" for US military support during the war (even though that support has only totalled about $175 billion).
In his latest proposal, Trump has pared down his demands to the creation of a "Ukraine Development Fund" that would include the "extraction of minerals and natural resources" as part of a joint US-Ukraine reconstruction effort.
While those terms appear less exploitative, the reconstruction program is expected to be financed by US loans from firms like BlackRock, which have been heavily involved in the diplomatic process.
"The infrastructure rebuilt with these loans—ports, rail lines, power grid—won’t be Ukrainian in any meaningful sense. It’ll be owned by international consortiums, operated for profit, with revenues flowing out to service the debt," wrote the Irish geopolitical commentator Deaglan O'Mulrooney on Tuesday. "In other words, Ukraine will be gutted."
Despite the criticism, Zelenskyy has signaled support in principle for the US reconstruction proposal as an alternative to direct expropriation.
The "red lines" for Zelenskyy heading into his talk with Trump are related to Ukraine's territorial integrity. He has said he will not recognize Russian control of the Donbass, or the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant, the largest nuclear facility in Europe, which Russia currently controls. He has also demanded that all terms of a peace agreement come up for a referendum among the Ukrainian people, which is strongly against territorial concessions.
At the same time, however, he insisted Saturday that "Ukraine is willing to do whatever it takes to stop this war."
The one thing we still do have that Russia doesn’t is mass demonstrations and a (relatively) free press, which is not to be taken for granted or let go easily.
It’s strange so many years later, in the United States of America, to feel as if I’m living in a country threatening to become like the Russia of Vladimir Putin that I spent years experiencing earlier in this century. To start, let me tell you a little something about that.
For decades as a young adult, I lived and traveled in Russia. I was an anthropology doctoral student and human rights worker, studying the effects of President Vladimir Putin’s centralizing policies and that country’s Christian nationalist media on the everyday lives of Russians. In one of my last projects, I investigated the government’s practice of separating kids with disabilities (and poorer kids generally) from their parents and detaining them in closed institutions. My report detailed how much changes in society when the government excludes swaths of the population from basic services like healthcare, education, and even just access to city streets. The answer? Everything.
That marginalization was part of a governing process aimed at further enriching the wealthiest few and those in power. It reflected the leadership of figures lacking a basic understanding of what all people need and deserve. I consider that a hallmark of a fascist regime.
One of my last evenings in Russia was a chilly November night in 2014 in the northern city of St. Petersburg. Mothers and children, grandparents and teenagers alike stepped with care to avoid slipping on black ice and bumping into (and possibly falling thanks to) large plastic advertisements for fast food, clothing, cosmetic dentistry, plastic surgery, and even IVF treatments sticking up like weeds on the cobblestoned sidewalks of the city’s center.
I look around at what’s happening in our country and worry that we may already be on a superhighway to the sort of class- and race-stratified autocracy that it took Russia so many years to become after the Soviet Union collapsed.
Those glowing placards seemed to replace what had once been a slew of different kinds of people when I first traveled to Russia as a college student in the late 1990s. In the same central train stations of that city, old women then sold carrots and beets from cardboard boxes they had lugged from their country homes. Young women could sometimes be seen in bikinis and stiletto heels (even in that weather!) with beer advertisements scrawled across their chests. Uzbek and Tajik men scrambled to finish construction on new stores, restaurants, and apartment buildings before winter set in. Roma mothers, their babies strapped to their backs in jewel-toned scarves, begged for money for food and housing.
Sometimes, when traffic grew too congested for their liking, Russia’s newly rich—aptly dubbed “New Russians” in the country’s popular press—drove their luxury Mercedes and BMWs onto the sidewalks, forcing pedestrians like me, along with mothers pushing strollers and a few wind-worn men and women hurrying to work, to scatter in panic. Despite the chaos and a significant amount of deprivation (more on that later), for many I met then, much seemed possible, including working for ever larger companies, migration, and new luxuries. Electronic remixes of Western songs like “If I Were a Rich Girl” and Cher’s “Believe” blasted from vendors’ tinny sounding boom boxes on repeat.
By the time of my last trip to Russia in 2014, however, shiny buildings had been built, older ones renovated, and developers with close ties to Russia’s political elite were even richer, thanks to the country’s growing oil wealth. Roma (or gypsy) families were no longer anywhere to be seen, as St. Petersburg’s government had conducted “purges” of the city’s informal Roma settlements. Nor were old women selling their wares on the streets, while Central Asian migrants from poorer countries to Russia’s south seemed ever fewer and less visible during the busiest times. Indeed, local authorities were rounding them up and detaining them without warrants, based on appearance and language alone. (Sound familiar?)
Having spent years interviewing families who could no longer access this new cityscape with their kids who used wheelchairs or were blind or deaf, all I could think was: I’m lucky to be able to go home to the United States.
That last night in 2014, I was also nearing the end of the first trimester of my first pregnancy. I rubbed my still barely visible baby bump as I spotted an old friend from St. Petersburg who was waiting to meet me for dinner at a nearby cafe. As I sat down with her, a waitress approached our table. She noted my American accent and told me with gentle, motherly scorn that I shouldn’t be traveling while pregnant. As if on cue, stomach cramps made me double up. After a trip to the restroom revealed that I was bleeding, I started to wonder if the waitress had been right. Was it possible that my relentless travel had caused me to miscarry—and in a country where I knew women sometimes faced withering criticism and blame for poor pregnancy outcomes? Just stay with me until I go home, I implored the baby I carried.
At least, my friend understood. Before she gave birth to her healthy son in the 1990s, when Russia’s newly privatized healthcare system included few viable options for working-class women, it took exhausted, overworked doctors weeks after she started feeling sick during her first pregnancy to determine that the baby inside her had actually died. She had an abortion without anesthesia and returned to her teaching job right away to make ends meet. And stories like hers were anything but unique then.
By 2014, urgent-care clinics and hospitals were plentiful enough in large cities like St. Petersburg and Moscow, but many were exorbitantly expensive even for young Americans like me. Worse yet, the attitudes of medical workers toward women who couldn’t or wouldn’t have babies had not exactly softened under a president—Vladimir Putin, of course—known for describing women as “guardians of the hearth and linchpins of large families with many children.”
Fearing the worst, my friend snapped into action, calling around to several acquaintances until one located an obstetrician she trusted who traveled from her home on the outskirts of the city to a clinic downtown.
In the 1990s, following the collapse of the Soviet empire, the International Monetary Fund and other international lenders pushed Russia to slash public spending and rapidly privatize state functions as part of the deal for their crucial loans to a society then in trouble. In the end, such changes dismantled the Soviet Union’s social safety net, including universal healthcare.
Well-connected elites carved up many of the remaining state assets and used them for their own private gain. Included in Russia’s newly privatized healthcare system were private clinics for the ultra-wealthy offering hotel-like amenities, including private rooms, hot tea, and soft background music. Ordinary Russians who couldn’t afford such ritzy private services used the remaining state clinics, though they were often overcrowded, undersupplied, and understaffed in the austere new world so many Russians had no choice but to navigate, especially outside the big cities. What’s more, as anthropologist Michele Rivkin-Fish has pointed out, private healthcare facilities didn’t mean better quality care, as medical workers and all kinds of public figures tended to encourage married, racially white (Slavic) Russian women to have more children, no matter the dignity and long-term health of women in Russia more broadly.
It would be an understatement to say that, by the time I left there in 2014, politics infused every aspect of Russian life. I’ll never forget, for instance, that a colleague of mine, who researched military abuses against ethnic minorities in Russia’s southernmost republics, had to leave the country to give birth after she received threatening anonymous text messages claiming that she and her unborn child were linked to Islamic insurgents in that part of the country.
While I had some reason to be afraid myself in that context, I wasn’t nearly high profile enough to truly worry and I was lucky as well. After all, my friend had a friend who indeed had a doctor she trusted. So, in the end, I was able to get an ultrasound, which showed that I still had a healthy pregnancy.
I traveled back to the US and gave birth to my son the very same day that Donald Trump descended that golden escalator to announce his candidacy for president of the United States (claiming that thousands of people were awaiting him below when only a few score were there) and launched his bid on the claim that Mexico was sending “rapists” to the United States.
Nah, I thought, as I watched the cooing baby in my arms. Probably won’t happen. I took my boy home and, being a military spouse, struggled with the military health insurance system, Tricare (aka Try-For-Care), to get coverage for basic costs like a breast pump. (No such luck, because, as an insurance rep told me, I was supposed to stay home and breastfeed him directly.) As for medicine for a common mouth infection in newborns, I got it but only after multiple appeals. I was then in an America plagued by privatization, ongoing foreign wars, and a lack of corporate accountability, but at least, my family would be okay—for now.
And here we all are.
I wish I could say that my family—and yours—live in a reality that’s different from the one I left in Russia when I took my pregnant self home in 2014. I look around at what’s happening in our country and worry that we may already be on a superhighway to the sort of class- and race-stratified autocracy that it took Russia so many years to become after the Soviet Union collapsed.
In particular, in the years since the Supreme Court overturned the right of American women to have abortions in 2022, 41 states have put abortion restrictions into effect, including 14 with outright bans. Some 40% of women now live in states with such bans or significant restrictions. In a handful of states like Idaho and Texas, women and expectant parents have had to cross state lines to get routine miscarriage- or pregnancy-related healthcare because doctors can face criminal or civil liabilities for providing it. (It may not be coincidental that in states with severe abortion restrictions, infant mortality has gone up significantly, particularly among people of color.) I could go on about the ways this administration and its allies on the Supreme Court and elsewhere are denying poor and middle-class women basic healthcare, but I’m sure you already get the picture.
Maybe since most Americans haven’t lived under an actual dictatorship the way many Russians have, state capture here is faster and easier, especially in a country with a resurgent Evangelical right (After all, didn’t Jesus say, “Suffer little children…”?)
These days, many people in my community and in my day job as a psychotherapist have lost hope that Donald Trump’s government could change things for the better. Many now tell me that they might not even vote in an upcoming election because government can’t be trusted to tell the truth and act on behalf of ordinary people. I’ve heard folks say that they can rely only on themselves (and maybe loved ones) to help them in crises like driving across state lines for healthcare. Among some of the highly educated parents I know in my DOGE-stricken DC suburb, I see not mass outrage or the urge to mobilize as much as a desire to homestead and foster a post-apocalyptic self-reliance, much in the style of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.
Well, good luck, and thanks for helping Trump consolidate power.
That’s why what we all do next matters so much. Remember that, in a democracy, we the people are the government.
But for now, the one thing I think we still do have that Russia doesn’t is mass demonstrations like the recent No Kings Day ones where a record 7 million Americans turned out nationally and a (relatively) free press, which is not to be taken for granted or let go easily. To show up in public as fully human and speak out for others is itself a sign of hope and possibility. Rage-filled political leaders and their minions would not invest so much time in intimidating those who speak out if free speech didn’t matter so much. (Think of that Trump-ordered military flyover while Epstein abuse survivors held a press conference in Washington recently.)
In days marked by so much uncompromising confrontation, I’m reminded of anthropology’s insight that, during a period of upheaval and movement, the people going through it can change significantly, though usually with some risk and pain. Migrations, mass demonstrations, even pregnancy—all of them hold the potential for self-transformation, particularly when people accompany one another on their journeys. The reason we should show up at demonstrations, write op-eds, and protest in any way we can imagine is to stand in solidarity with one another, even if we don’t change the minds of the people watching us. (We might, though!) In other words, collective action is its own form of social transformation. It is a way to forge, if not a new America, then new Americans who will not let democracy die without a struggle. Without it, I fear we’re likely to end up with Donald Trump’s version of Vladimir Putin’s Russia—at least, the one I left in 2014.
That’s why what we all do next matters so much. Remember that, in a democracy, we the people are the government. Whether we’re finding a service for someone who needs it, offering a friend in need a ride, warning of federal police or National Guard in the neighborhood, speaking out against abuse, or just meeting friends for dinner, the exercise of our civil rights is a thread from which our democracy hangs. Such actions also alter the landscapes we hold in our imaginations, whether we like it or not. Simply put, as long as there are more people than military in the streets, the message to those who are scared is simple: This might feel like a foreign land, but you’re not alone.
“To limit new weapons development in China or Russia, one of the best things the US can do is maintain the taboo on testing and ratify the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty," said one expert.
More than a dozen US senators on Wednesday urged President Donald Trump to abort plans for a resumption of nuclear weapons testing, a call that came as Russian President Vladimir Putin directed his senior officials to draft proposals for possible new nuke tests in response.
“We write to you today to express grave reservation about any action to resume nuclear weapons testing," 14 Democratic senators led by Sens. Jacky Rosen (D-Nev.) and Martin Heinrich (D-NM), ranking member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, said in a letter to Trump.
"We request that you personally provide clarification," the lawmakers added. "The decision to resume nuclear weapons testing would be geopolitically dangerous, fiscally irresponsible, and simply unnecessary to ensure the ability of the United States to defend itself."
Sen. Ed Markey (D-Mass.)—who signed the letter—also introduced emergency legislation last week aimed at preventing Trump from resuming nuclear weapons tests.
Although no country is known to have tested a nuclear weapon since North Korea last did so in 2017, Trump last month ordered the Pentagon to prepare for a resumption of reciprocal testing.
“The United States has more Nuclear Weapons than any other country,” Trump falsely wrote on social media. “Because of other countries testing programs, I have instructed the Department of War to start testing our Nuclear Weapons on an equal basis.”
TASS reported Wednesday that Putin instructed the Russian Foreign Ministry, Defense Ministry, intelligence agencies, and civilian bureaus to submit proposals "on the possibility of preparing for nuclear weapons tests" in the event that other countries resume testing.
Russia has not tested a nuclear weapon in its modern history. The former Soviet Union's final nuclear test took place in 1990 and the successor Russian state has adhered to a moratorium ever since.
Last week, Congresswoman Dina Titus (D-Nev.) introduced a bill to prohibit new US nuclear weapons testing. Titus accused Trump of putting "his own ego and authoritarian ambitions above the health and safety of Nevadans."
Supporting Titus' bill, Tara Drozdenko, director of the Global Security Program at the Union of Concerned Scientists, said in a statement Wednesday that “there is no good reason for the United States to resume explosive nuclear testing and it would actually make everyone in this country less safe."
"We have so much to lose and so little to gain from resuming testing," she continued. "New explosive testing by the United States would be to make a political statement, with major consequences: It would shatter the global freeze on nuclear testing observed by all but North Korea and give Russia, China, and other nuclear powers the green light to restart their own nuclear testing programs."
“The United States has not conducted a nuclear detonation test since 1992," Drozdenko noted. "Even those advocating for testing acknowledge there is no scientific need to test to maintain the US nuclear arsenal. In fact, Energy Secretary Chris Wright recently said that the updated systems can be tested without conducting full nuclear detonations."
“To limit new weapons development in China or Russia, one of the best things the US can do is maintain the taboo on testing and ratify the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty," she added. "This treaty with on-site verification measures would be the best way to ensure that countries are not clandestinely testing nuclear weapons.”
The United States and Soviet Union came dangerously close to nuclear war on multiple occasions during the Cold War, most notably amid the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis and, later, during then-President Ronald Reagan's first administration in the early 1980s.
Weeks after becoming the first country to develop nuclear weapons in 1945, the United States waged the world's only nuclear war, dropping atomic bombs on the defenseless Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and killing hundreds of thousands of people, mostly civilians.
According to the International Campaign for the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons, Russia leads the world with 5,449 nuclear warheads in its arsenal, followed by the US with 5,277 warheads, China with around 600, France with 290, and the United Kingdom with 225. Four other nations—India, Pakistan, Israel, and North Korea—also have nuclear arsenals of between 50-180 warheads each.
When leaders veer toward authoritarian rhetoric, the satirist goes to work to make sure our public language does not get swallowed by the party line.
When Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny hosted the season premiere of “Saturday Night Live,” he used the opportunity to tweak critics who are upset about his upcoming Super Bowl Halftime performance—delivering remarks in Spanish and then telling listeners they have four months to learn what he just said.
Martin Luther King Jr. once described violence as the language of the unheard. Bad Bunny took the opportunity to respond to his detractors in another powerful language of the unheard: satirical humor.
Although humor can seem trivial to some, we should not underestimate its power to shift cultural agendas. Contempt toward elites in the form of satirical mockery can be cathartic and a demonstration of solidarity for those of lower status. Humorists can have a deep impact on the public imagination.
Shifting public imagination is one reason repressive leaders fear comedic critique.
Satirical humor is one of the remaining glimmers of hope we have left in the fight against authoritarian rhetoric.
“Satire is the sharpest instrument of free speech," Russian comedian Viktor Shenderovich said in a recent interview with Politico magazine. “And the first thing all dictators do is crack down on freedom of speech.”
Shenderovich, now living in exile in Poland, was the force behind the satirical puppet show Kukly, which Russian President Vladimir Putin successfully pressured networks to cancel once he became president. The show poked fun at political leaders, like Putin, using unflattering puppets.
President Donald Trump is also known to oppose negative coverage, often trying to suppress it through lawsuits. We witnessed the suspension of Jimmy Kimmel and the cancellation of Stephen Colbert. Trump has also publicly pressured networks to fire Jimmy Fallon and Seth Myers.
The satirist plays an important role in political society. When leaders veer toward authoritarian rhetoric, the satirist must go to work to make sure our public language does not get swallowed by the party line. In short, satire helps preserve the language of critique itself.
The sharpness of satire that Shenderovich alludes to can be effective for cutting through the fog of fear and confusion that accompanies authoritarian rhetoric.
As a humor scholar, it does not surprise me that Trump’s thin-skinned reactions to critique would target comedians. Satirical humor, in particular, has historically functioned like a disinfecting light.
Executive orders and irresponsible speech, such as baseless claims about Haitians eating neighborhood pets, may remain relatively unaffected in the public imagination despite pushback on CNN, "Meet the Press," or "Face the Nation." But the sting of satirical laughter is difficult to ignore. This is probably why people like Kimmel, Fallon, and Colbert get under his skin.
Perhaps even more frustrating to authoritarian figures is the way humor can undermine attempts to break their political enemies’ spirit by providing hope. Consider an example from a particularly dark point in history. Viktor Frankl described humor as a weapon in the fight for self-preservation in his powerful memoir, Man’s Search for Meaning.
He writes, “It is well known that humor, more than anything else in the human make-up, can afford an aloofness and an ability to rise above any situation, even if only for a few seconds.”
The context for Frankl’s statement is the concentration camp. For him, humor was a lifeline that helped people hang onto their humanity in the midst of inhumane treatment by their Nazi captors.
Trump’s rhetoric is, without question, intended to strike fear into the hearts of his political enemies. The vagueness of his language is also a way of widening the scope to include anyone who disagrees with him. Think of his threat to have Attorney General Pam Bondi go after a journalist for hate speech.
Satirical humor at its best is a powerful force for disrupting authoritarian rhetoric. Satire shows no reverence for the kind of linguistic authoritarianism on display in attempts to expunge the nation’s parks and museums of racial memory or define anti-fascism as domestic terrorism. Rather, it disregards the social niceties we associate with social interaction and explores the logic behind our meaning choices.
Admittedly, satire’s irreverence can sometimes be uncomfortable, even offensive. Ignoring social niceties can mean pulling back the veil on hidden embarrassments. However, this may be the only route to a clarifying vision. I echo the words of writer and literary critic Ralph Ellison: “For by allowing us to laugh at that which is normally unlaughable, comedy provides an otherwise unavailable clarification of vision that calms the clammy trembling which ensues whenever we pierce the veil of conventions that guard us from the basic absurdity of the human condition.”
Satirical humor is one of the remaining glimmers of hope we have left in the fight against authoritarian rhetoric. Long live its sting.