The U.S., guilty by association in the launch of the war in 2015, has failed to fully engage its diplomacy in the service of peace, continuing instead to fuel the fighting with huge arms sales.
The internal war and outside intervention in Yemen appear to go on unabated under the neglectful eye of the Arab world and the international community. The recent armed struggle for Socotra has left the Southern Transitional Council (STC), supported by the United Arab Emirates, in charge of the island. A UNESCO-declared world heritage site, Socotra has been trampled by troops, armored trucks, and tanks, much to the detriment of its fragile ecosystem and historically peaceful population. Battles continue to rage just east of Aden, where STC fighters remain in a stand-off with troops loyal to President Abdrabbuh Mansour Hadi’s government for control of neighboring Abyan province—as part of the overall struggle for the entire south of Yemen. Farther north of Abyan, Houthi/Ansarullah troops are pursuing a months-long attempt to enter the capital of Marib and secure all oil and gas facilities there. To the west of Marib, a tense front still exists around the city of Hodeida, a strategic port for the importation of humanitarian assistance and potential export of oil via the Red Sea.
Of course, all this is aside from the main war between Saudi Arabia and the Houthis, which is being conducted by air, land forces, and rocketry over the capital Sanaa, the Houthis’ capital Saadah, and Saudi Arabia’s southern border at al-Jawf governorate. Added to that complex geopolitical picture is a pandemic that is sweeping over all without distinction as to party or regional affiliation. Indeed, there is a clear and full tragedy unfolding in Yemen.
Enter COVID-19
The devastating impact of war, disease, and poverty on the people of Yemen has been compounded by a now widespread epidemic for which the country was ill-prepared. At first, COVID-19 looked like it had somehow spared the country as one Middle Eastern country after another fell prey to the virus in early March. Although lacking reliable information from Yemen itself, international agencies now report that virus-related deaths have very likely exceeded the death toll from the war raging in the country since 2015.
Although lacking reliable information from Yemen itself, international agencies now report that virus-related deaths have very likely exceeded the death toll from the war raging in the country since 2015.
The alarming spread of COVID-19 in Yemen is cause to seriously doubt the sincerity—and even the sanity—of those who pursue victory through war instead of negotiations. This critique includes all sides to the conflict as they continue to give priority to improving their strategic positions on the ground. Numbers vary widely depending on the source of information, but a million infections is not an unreasonable estimate at this point. One thing is certain however: the spread of diseases has overwhelmed the country’s inadequate public health institutions. Instead of dramatically building up Yemen’s capacity and encouraging a coordinated regional and international effort to mitigate the spread of the deadly virus, the Arab coalition fighting the Houthis continues to prosecute the war directly from the air and via proxy forces on the ground. The vast sums being spent on the war primarily by the Arab coalition, if diverted to public health, could save millions of lives currently at risk. The fault, however, belongs to all those trying to fill the void at the center caused by the 2011 revolt, which led to the departure and ultimate demise of the late president, Ali Abdallah Saleh, and his replacement by a weak-to-nonexistent legitimate authority.
Yemeni, Saudi, and Emirati sins
Yemen has fallen into chaos because of the mistakes of an otherwise strong president, the late Ali Abdullah Saleh, who could not find it in himself or his advisors to listen to the protesters and invite them to help transition the country from authoritarianism and corruption into a more democratic and less corrupt system of government. War and chaos also resulted from the Houthi takeover of Sanaa in 2014, reflecting the clumsy efforts of the United Nations and the Gulf Cooperation Council to patch together a new social contract among the various Yemeni factions and regions. None of this was helped with the Saudi-led Arab coalition’s intervention in the country in 2015, ostensibly to repel the Houthi takeover, derail what the Saudis perceived as a growing Iranian menace on their southern border, and restore the internationally recognized government of President Hadi to power. Five years of this war have achieved quite the opposite: the entrenchment of the Houthis in Sanaa, a growing Iranian influence bucking up the Houthis, an increasingly divided country, and a marginalized Hadi government.
Five years of this war have achieved quite the opposite: the entrenchment of the Houthis in Sanaa, a growing Iranian influence bucking up the Houthis, an increasingly divided country, and a marginalized Hadi government.
Whatever the agenda of the Saudi and Emirati leadership, it could not have been pursued without the willing participation of Yemeni militias and armies on the ground. To start with, the Hadi government, living in the lap of luxury courtesy of the Saudi government, has been fighting for a secure foothold inside Yemen and has sought to keep control of Yemen’s central bank holdings. However, it has been unable to do that in either Sanaa (which was taken over by the Houthis) or Aden (where the STC challenges it). Hadi loyalists have been fighting in Marib, trying to fend off Houthi attacks to remain in control of oil and gas facilities in the area. The Hadi forces have also complained of inadequate support from Riyadh, especially because they have to fight on at least two fronts: north with the Houthis and south with the STC and other UAE-supported forces trying to form a separate state there. There are reports of the Saudis’ unhappiness with Hadi’s leadership, that they may be searching for alternatives. Indeed, everyone now questions the Hadi government’s legitimacy as well as the efficacy of continuing to vest this honor upon him when he, like every other major player in Yemen, is struggling to hold on to land and resources.
In fact, the Riyadh Agreement, purportedly a plan to merge the STC with the Hadi government and put an end to bloodshed and chaos in the south, has been suspect in the eyes of Hadi as well as analysts who see it as an abandonment of Hadi in favor of the STC. The hostile takeover of Socotra Island is the most recent example of the STC trying to assert southern independence with clear support from the UAE and suspected connivance from Saudi Arabia. There is no military value to the island for the STC, save that of adding territory to what it already controls in the south, in addition to how the island might help the UAE’s maritime ambitions in the Arabian Sea. It represents, however, a significant defeat for the Hadi government and a further squeezing out of their forces from the south. What is noteworthy here is the withdrawal of the small Saudi force that had gone to the island in 2018 after the UAE sent an expeditionary force, ostensibly to mediate between UAE forces and the island’s population. STC leader Aidarous al-Zubaidi had recently returned from a visit to Riyadh to confer with the Saudi leadership, leading to speculation at the time that the Saudis were lending legitimacy to his desire for an independent southern state.
If the reported Saudi offer of a Riyadh Agreement part II is true, it would shed even more doubt on Saudi intentions and add credibility to reports of their discontinuing support to President Hadi. This offer evidently suggested the STC withdraw its troops from Aden and into Abyan, with no mention of where Hadi’s forces would be deployed. If implemented—and there is no chance of that happening, in any case—it would mean an expansion of STC influence into Abyan, a contested governorate not currently under their control.
Under the best of circumstances and assuming good intentions, Saudi and Emirati leaders are under intensifying pressure to cut their losses in Yemen, given the increasing cost of the war, lower revenue due to the depressed prices of oil, and the vulnerability of their own countries to rocket attacks and land incursions in southern Saudi Arabia. The management of Yemen, as administered territory, also seems too much of a challenge for the Arab coalition, unless one wants to assume the worst and conclude that the prevalent chaos is exactly what they wanted to achieve.
The management of Yemen, as administered territory, also seems too much of a challenge for the Arab coalition, unless one wants to assume the worst and conclude that the prevalent chaos is exactly what they wanted to achieve.
The Houthis, whose motives in capturing Sanaa in 2014 were never transparent, stopped short of taking over Aden due to local resistance and the military intervention by the Arab coalition. They have alternated between trying to hold on to northern territory they control and pushing to expand their area. This lack of transparency has become a hallmark of Houthi rule; most recently, the Houthis were legitimately accused of hoarding information about the spread of COVID-19, brazenly declaring that revealing accurate information on the spread of the disease only causes panic among the population. Information has also been withheld on how they collect and spend their revenue. Specifically, concern has been voiced about widespread corruption within the disbursement of international aid, both by the authorities in Sanaa and by the UN agencies directing and monitoring the process.
The sins of the international community
Since 2011, three successive UN special envoys have failed to stitch together an agreement to reconcile the various parties in conflict and to get the permanent members of the UN Security Council to put their weight behind an effort to end the war. The latest of the envoys, Martin Griffiths, wasted two years trying to secure the neutrality of the vital Hodeida port while the real war raged elsewhere in Yemen and Yemeni and regional parties continued to fundamentally disagree on what a final agreement would look like.
The United States, guilty by association in the launch of the war in 2015, has failed to fully engage its diplomacy in the service of peace, continuing instead to fuel the fighting with huge arms sales, training of fighter-pilots, and putting in place a missile defense system in an extensive but futile effort to guard against rocket attacks against sensitive targets inside Saudi Arabia. Democrats in Congress have repeatedly urged the Trump Administration to suspend arms sales to the region, arguing that peace and stability in Yemen are in the best national security interests of the United States. The latest legislative effort, by Senator Chris Murphy (D-Connecticut), does not seem any more promising than previous attempts—at least while the Republican majority continues to block such moves.
Yemen needs Yemenis
Young men and women from Yemen are now spread far and wide across Europe, the United States, and Asia. Through their various engagements and contributions, they have demonstrated the ability of a new Yemeni generation to launch a rebuilding of their country and lead it into the future. Oil and gas potential is very promising and could well support such efforts once the war ends. If the international community seems incapable or unwilling to stop the bloodletting, it remains incumbent on Yemeni leaders themselves to use the good counsel of their youth to patch up their differences and enable a positive and constructive transition into the future.
Nabeel A. Khoury is a nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Rafik Hariri Center for the Middle East. A retired foreign service officer, he most recently served as director of the Near East South Asia office of the Bureau of Intelligence and Research.
Advocates of ever-higher Pentagon spending frequently argue that we must throw more money at the department to “support the troops.” But recent budget proposals and a new research paper issued by the Quincy Institute and the Costs of War Project at Brown University suggest otherwise.
The paper, which I co-authored with Stephen Semler, found that 54% of the Pentagon’s $4.4 trillion in discretionary spending from 2020 to 2024 went to military contractors. The top five alone — Lockheed Martin ($313 billion), RTX (formerly Raytheon, $145 billion), Boeing ($115 billion), General Dynamics ($116 billion), and Northrop Grumman ($81 billion) – received $771 billion in Pentagon contracts over that five year period.
This huge infusion of funds to arms makers comes at the expense of benefits for active duty personnel and veterans of America’s post-9/11 wars. Despite pay increases in recent years, there are still hundreds of thousands of military families who rely on food stamps, live in subpar housing, or suffer from other financial hardships.
Meanwhile, there are plans to cut tens of thousands of personnel at the Veterans Administration, close Veterans health centers, and even to reduce staffing at veteran suicide hotlines. And many of the programs veterans and their families depend on — from food stamps to Medicaid and more — are slated for sharp cuts in the budget bill signed by President Trump earlier this month.
It would be one thing if all of the hundreds of billions of dollars lavished on weapons contractors were being well spent in service of a better defense. But they are not. Overpriced and underperforming weapons systems like the F-35 combat aircraft and the Sentinel intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) have shown themselves to be quite effective at consuming taxpayer dollars, even as the run huge cost overruns, suffer lengthy schedule delays, and, in the case of the F-35, are unavailable for use much of the time due to serious maintenance problems.
The problems with the Sentinel and the F-35 are likely to pale in comparison with the sums that may be wasted in pursuit of President Trump’s proposal for a leak-proof “Golden Dome” missile defense system, a costly pipe dream that many experts feel is both physically impossible and strategically unwise. In the more than four decades and hundreds of billions of dollars spent since Ronald Reagan’s pledge to build an impenetrable shield against incoming ICBMs, the Pentagon has yet to succeed in a test conducted under realistic conditions, and has even failed in a large number of the carefully scripted efforts.
And Golden Dome is more ambitious than Star Wars — it is supposed to intercept not just ICBMs, but hypersonic missiles, low-flying drones, and anything else that might be launched at the United States.
The good news is that if you are a weapons contractor, whether from the Big Five or the emerging military tech sector in Silicon Valley, Golden Dome will be a gold mine, regardless of whether it ever produces a useful defense system.
The Silicon Valley crowd fully acknowledges the problems current industry leaders have had in producing effective weapons at an affordable price, and they have an answer — give the money to them instead, and they will produce nimble, affordable, easily replaceable, software driven weapons that will restore America to a position of global primacy.
But the new guard is interested in much more than just building new products that they can sell to the Pentagon. The leaders of these emerging tech firms — led by Elon Musk at SpaceX, Peter Thiel at Palantir, and Palmer Luckey at Anduril — describe themselves as “founders” who will drag America from the doldrums to a position of unparalleled military dominance.
And unlike the CEOs of the big contractors, these new-age militarists are vocally hawkish. Some, like Palmer Luckey, have publicly gloated about how we can beat China in a war that he sees coming in the next few years, while others, like Palantir CEO Alex Karp, have cheered on Israel’s campaign of mass slaughter in Gaza, even going so far as to hold the company’s board meeting in Israel at the height of the war as a gesture of solidarity.
Even after Elon Musk’s messy public breakup with Donald Trump, the tech sector still has a leg up over the old guard in influence over his administration. Vice President J.D. Vance was employed, mentored, and financed by Palantir’s Peter Thiel, and former employees of Anduril, Palantir, and other military tech firms have been appointed to influential positions in the national security bureaucracy.
Meanwhile, Lockheed Martin and its cohort have a strong hand to play in Congress, where campaign contributions, hundreds of lobbyists, and suppliers located in a majority of states and districts give them immense power to keep their programs up and running, even in cases where the Pentagon and the military are trying to cancel or retire them.
Even at a proposed budget of $1 trillion a year, there may need to be some tradeoffs between legacy firms and new tech companies as the Pentagon chooses the next generation of weapons. The missing ingredient in all of this is the voice of the public, or strong input from members of Congress who care more about forging an effective defense strategy than they do about bringing Pentagon dollars to their areas.
When it comes to creating a defense system appropriate to the world we live in, it shouldn’t be about Lockheed Martin versus Palantir, it should be about common sense versus special interest pleading. Technology alone will not save us, as we have seen from the repeated failures of “miracle weapons” like the electronic battlefield in Vietnam, or President Reagan’s Star Wars initiative, or the advent of precision-guided munitions to actually win wars or achieve favorable outcomes from Vietnam to Iraq to Afghanistan.
Coming up with a defense plan that actually makes sense – and has any prospect of succeeding – will mean confronting the power and influence of the weapons contractors of all stripes, who now consume the bulk of the expenditures intended to promote the safety and security of America and its allies.
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Top photo credit: Pearly Tan and Thinaah Muralitharan of Malaysia compete in the Women's Doubles Round Robin match against Nami Matsuyama and Chiharu Shida of Japan on day five of the BWF Sudirman Cup Finals 2025 at Fenghuang Gymnasium on May 1, 2025 in Xiamen, Fujian Province of China. (Photo by Zheng Hongliang/VCG )
In June 2025, while U.S. and Philippine forces conducted joint military drills in the Sulu Sea and Defense Secretary Pete Hegsethreaffirmed America’s commitment to the Indo-Pacific at Singapore’s Shangri-La Dialogue, another story deserving of attention played out less visibly.
A Chinese-financed rail project broke ground in Malaysia with diplomatic fanfare and local celebration. As Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim noted, the ceremony “marks an important milestone” in bilateral cooperation. The contrast was sharp: Washington sent ships and speeches; Beijing sent people and money.
Although the U.S. has increased its military presence in the region, from reinforcing defense pacts with the Philippines to expanding freedom of navigation patrols, it continues to lag where influence is most enduring: civilian visibility and public imagination. A survey taken during the first six weeks of this year by the ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute warned that U.S. tariffs, short-term aid, and inconsistent engagement threaten to undermine trust.
As detailed in the paper “Charm Offensive amid the Tariff War,” the unpredictability of a second Trump administration has allowed China to demonstrate something the U.S. no longer consistently projects — reliability. China’s influence in Southeast Asia has grown because it consistently shows up. Its diplomats speak local languages, its media shapes youth discourse, and its projects, though self-interested, touch people’s daily lives.
Meanwhile, American values are often spoken from afar or filtered through the language of security. America didn’t lose soft power because China out-argued democracy. It lost because it stopped doing the hard work of showing up early, often, and empathetically.
Southeast Asia is not a peripheral theater, but a central pillar of 21st-century geopolitics. Located at the heart of the Indo-Pacific, the region is home to over 650 million people and constitutes the world’s fifth-largest economy, projected to become the fourth by 2030. Strategically, it encompasses critical maritime chokepoints. The South China Sea alone facilitates an estimated $3.5 trillion in annual trade, while 40% of global maritime commerce passes through the narrow channel of the Strait of Malacca.
In both military and economic terms, what happens in Southeast Asia significantly impacts global trajectories.
More than any other region, Southeast Asia embodies the global balancing instinct. Governments there do not want to choose between the United States and China. Instead, they seek diversified engagement: U.S. leadership without constraint, and Chinese investment without control.
The United States has long professed support for “ASEAN centrality,” but its engagement has too often been episodic, reactive, or filtered through a narrow security lens. If Washington intends to remain a long-term presence in the Indo-Pacific, it must begin treating Southeast Asia not as a chessboard but as a chorus of sovereign voices.
While the U.S. positions itself as the torchbearer of universal norms, China promises to never impose. America frequently invokes freedom, democracy, and human rights across speeches and communities. But in much of Southeast Asia, those values are no longer experienced as trustworthy exports. They are seen as patchy in application, moralistic in tone, and increasingly divorced from the everyday experiences of those listening.
In contrast, China does not attempt to export a values system. China’s approach is pragmatic: it delivers infrastructure, educational exchanges, and economic tools, often wrapped in language that stresses sovereignty, partnership, and mutual respect.
While the U.S. lectures and reiterates its commitment to maritime security and freedom of navigation, China listens and builds dormitories, lays undersea cables, and hosts youth forums. Chinese cultural centers are present in nearly every ASEAN capital. TikTok and WeChat are among the most used apps in the region. Even pro-U.S. elites now find themselves surrounded by Chinese-funded networks and Chinese-inspired alternative narratives. Beijing’s blend of non-interference rhetoric and strategic investment is winning regional favor, leaving the U.S. struggling to keep pace.
Of course, China’s soft power model is not without contradictions. Its Belt and Road financing has been criticized for opaque terms and unsustainable debt; its infrastructure projects have sometimes triggered labor abuses, poor community consultation, and environmental degradation, from Laos’s rail corridor to dam-induced displacements in Cambodia. In Indonesia, projects like Mandalika and Rempang have sparked protests over forced evictions and inadequate compensation. China’s non-interference rhetoric often masks accountability gaps.
Its soft power works, but it doesn’t escape scrutiny — it simply operates with a more convenient value proposition that prioritizes state-to-state relationships over societal alignment.
The issue here is not that U.S. values are less worthy — it’s that they are no longer visible, culturally translated, or institutionally embedded in the region. This is not a call for abandoning American principles. Rather, it is a wake-up call that principles unaccompanied by presence quickly become noise.
The good news is that Southeast Asia hasn’t closed the door. The United States doesn’t need to replicate China’s model, but it must re-enter the competition for public imagination before the next generation decides America is no longer part of their future. Soft power isn’t built on slogans, but earned through people, programs, and sustained storytelling.
If the United States hopes to reclaim influence in Southeast Asia, it must stop leaning solely on security alliances and start increasing its efforts to connect on a deeper, more human level. Despite DOGE’s push to reduce State Department staff and departments, there remains bipartisan and strategic momentum in Washington to reassess and potentially reverse course on soft-power investment.
Analysts warn that cuts to U.S. development aid have created a vacuum that rival powers — particularly China — are keen to fill. Even modest increases in funding or targeted initiatives could yield outsized returns by strengthening people-to-people ties, reinforcing democratic norms, and enhancing America’s long-term standing in the region.
To do this, Washington needs to significantly scale up its soft-power efforts. This includes reversing cuts to the Fulbright Program, investing more in the Young Southeast Asian Leaders Initiative, and the Peace Corps, which have long fostered educational and cultural exchange in the region (though the administration's recent crackdown on foreign students coming to study here certainly hasn't helped).
Establishing a Southeast Asia Public Engagement Office — staffed with regional experts and youth communicators — would allow for more targeted outreach. Reviving American cultural centers, expanding book donation programs, and launching tech initiatives in everyday public spaces beyond the embassy will help the U.S. connect more deeply across the region.
While the U.S. has strong security ties in Southeast Asia, military presence alone doesn’t build lasting influence. Real credibility comes from soft power. Deterrence can prevent conflict, but it doesn’t inspire loyalty or a shared sense of purpose. If Washington hopes to remain a credible Pacific power, it must show up and become a trusted neighbor before the crisis comes.
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Top photo credit: President of Azerbaijan Ilham Aliyev and President of Russia Vladimir Putin appear on screen. (shutterstock/miss.cabul)
The escalating tensions between Russia and Azerbaijan — marked by tit-for-tat arrests, accusations of ethnic violence, and economic sparring — have tempted some Western observers to view the conflict as an opportunity to further isolate Moscow.
However, this is not a simple narrative of Azerbaijan resisting Russian dominance. It is a complex struggle over energy routes, regional influence, and the future of the South Caucasus, where Western alignment with Baku risks undermining critical priorities, including potential U.S.-Russia engagement on Ukraine and arms control.
The immediate spark came in June, when Russian security forces raided alleged Azerbaijani-linked criminal networks in Yekaterinburg, resulting in the deaths of two Russian nationals of Azerbaijani origin and arrests of more suspected mobsters. Baku condemned the raids as ethnically motivated, while Moscow claimed the deaths were due to natural causes.
The fallout was swift: Azerbaijan arrested Russian nationals, including Kremlin-linked media employees accused of espionage and seemingly random expatriates, while state-backed media in Baku launched a fierce anti-Russian propaganda campaign.
This clash built on deeper tensions. Since Azerbaijan’s 2023 reconquest of Nagorno-Karabakh, which sidelined Russian peacekeepers and exposed Moscow’s waning regional influence, President Ilham Aliyev has pursued an assertive foreign policy. Aliyev’s sharp public criticisms of Russia over the Azerbaijan Airlines plane crash in Russian airspace in December 2024 — in which he demanded accountability, compensation, and justice—signaled a newfound combativeness toward Moscow, marking a departure from Baku’s traditionally cautious diplomacy with its powerful neighbor.
Backed by Turkey and courted by the West for its energy exports, Azerbaijan aims to dominate the South Caucasus and serve as a critical energy hub for Central Asian exports to Europe that bypasses Russia.
Baku’s ambitions center on the proposed Zangezur Corridor, a transit route through Armenia connecting Azerbaijan to its Nakhchivan exclave and Turkey. This corridor, under prospective Ankara-Baku control, aligns with Western efforts to reduce reliance on Russian hydrocarbon export but is strongly opposed by both Russia and Iran, who fear it would bolster Turkish influence at their expense.
Armenia, caught in the middle, faces intense pressure, with Aliyev threatening military action if Yerevan resists.
Armenia’s own pivot complicates the situation. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s pro-Western government has distanced itself from Moscow, freezing its participation in the Moscow-led Collective Security Treaty Organization and signaling openness to NATO membership. Yet, this leaves Armenia isolated, as Western support remains largely rhetorical while Azerbaijan’s threats are tangible. Domestically, Pashinyan’s crackdown on opponents, labeled as “pro-Russian forces,” further destabilizes the country.
Encouraged by the growing geopolitical convergence between Armenia and Azerbaijan, some Western diplomats have rushed to back Baku, seeing an opportunity to push Russia out of the South Caucasus. The EU ambassador to Azerbaijan condemned alleged “violence, torture, and inhuman treatment” against ethnic Azerbaijanis in Russia, while the British ambassador expressed solidarity with the “Azerbaijani people.”
This framing is telling — both diplomats portrayed the Yekaterinburg incident as an unprovoked ethnic attack rather than a police operation targeting alleged criminals. While skepticism of Russian law enforcement is warranted, uncritically accepting Baku’s narrative — from a regime no less authoritarian than Moscow’s — is a deliberate political choice.
Although high-ranking EU officials like Commission President Ursula von der Leyen and High Representative for Foreign Affairs Kaja Kallas didn’t comment specifically on the latest clash, both have called Azerbaijan a “trusted partner” for energy security. Meanwhile, NATO has deepened its ties with Baku through programs like the Defense Education Enhancement Program.
Meanwhile, lobbying firms, sometimes skirting transparency rules, have secured congressional endorsements, with lawmakers praising Azerbaijan’s geopolitical role. Now, with the Russia-Azerbaijan rift widening, these long-cultivated networks are poised to push for even deeper Western alignment.
Some in Washington, London, and Brussels may see Azerbaijan as a useful counter to Russia, but embracing Baku uncritically would be a strategic miscalculation for four key reasons.
First, Moscow maintains decisive military superiority over Azerbaijan, including nuclear capabilities and the ability to swiftly cripple Baku's critical oil infrastructure with precision strikes. The only country that could potentially come to Azerbaijan’s aid, Turkey, is unlikely to commit itself as it has its own complex relationship with Russia, of which the Caucasus is but one piece of a much bigger puzzle.
While Moscow’s focus on Ukraine limits immediate escalation, once Russia achieves its objectives there, it could shift attention to the Caucasus. Any Western-backed confrontation would be largely futile at best and, at worst, could provoke disproportionate retaliation against Azerbaijan while further destabilizing the region.
Second, overt Western support for Azerbaijan would reinforce the Kremlin’s narrative that the U.S. seeks to encircle and weaken Russia at every turn. This would make future dialogue — whether on ending the war in Ukraine or reviving arms control talks — far more difficult. Given the existential risks of a U.S.-Russia confrontation, prioritizing a minor regional rivalry over strategic stability would be shortsighted.
Third, Aliyev’s regime is no democratic ally. His government has jailed critics, stifled dissent, and weaponized nationalism — largely mirroring Putin’s own playbook. In June, it sentenced a young researcher, Bahruz Samadov, to 15 years in jail on spurious treason charges solely for advocating peace with Armenia. Backing Baku for short-term geopolitical gains would further erode Western credibility on human rights and the “rules-based international order.”
Fourth, encouraging Azerbaijani aggression — whether against Armenia or through proxy confrontations with Russia — could trigger a wider regional conflict. The U.S. has no vital national interest in the Zangezur Corridor, but it does have an interest in preventing another war that could draw in Turkey, Iran, Israel, and Russia. Such a scenario would increase pressure from the usual interventionist quarters in Washington for the U.S. to join the fray against Russia and Iran.
Rather than taking sides, the U.S. should use its renewed dialogue with Russia to quietly push for de-escalation, making clear that Washington does not seek to exploit the conflict to further isolate Moscow. Simultaneously, the U.S. should use its influence over Azerbaijan to discourage further provocations, including threats against Armenia and Russian citizens in Azerbaijan.
The U.S. does not need another proxy conflict with Russia. Washington should resist the temptation to view Azerbaijan’s defiance of Russia as an opportunity to "win" the South Caucasus. Instead, the priority must be preventing further escalation — both to avoid another humanitarian crisis and to preserve the possibility of broader U.S.-Russia dialogue on far more pressing issues, from Ukraine to nuclear arms control.
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