OPEC+ agreed Monday to a small cut in oil production. The cartel, which is led by Russia and Saudi Arabia, justified the decision as a necessary move to slow a recent drop in global oil prices. These cuts could deepen in coming weeks as the bloc “stands ready to meet again at short notice to reduce output further if needed,” according to Bloomberg columnist Javier Blas.
The production drop — which comes just two months after President Joe Biden personally asked Saudi leaders to increase oil output — highlights the difficulties that the United States has faced in rallying Middle East partners to support Western efforts to isolate Russia.
The move could hardly come at a worse time for Biden. U.S. gas prices have finally started to return to their pre-Ukraine war levels, and Europe is expected to lean on oil to produce electricity this winter as Russia reduces the continent’s access to natural gas. In other words, an increase in oil prices could damage Biden's efforts to help Democrats hold onto Congress this fall while testing the strength of the West's united front against Russia.
More broadly, the news raises questions about how much Washington really gains from cozying up to autocratic leaders like Saudi Crown Prince Muhammad Bin Salman.
“Clearly, appeasement didn't work,” tweeted Trita Parsi of the Quincy Institute. “Doubling down on a bad relationship is a bad idea. It's time to overhaul America's Mideast policy.”
Notably, OPEC’s decision also coincides with reports that the U.S. and Iran may manage to revive the Iran nuclear deal. If these efforts succeed, Tehran will be able to vastly increase its oil exports, which would likely help drive down prices in global markets. This latest move signals that Riyadh is still not ready to support Washington’s efforts with Iran, according to oil market analyst Tamas Varga.
“The political angle, it seems, is a Saudi message to the U.S. about the revival of the Iranian nuclear agreement,” Varga told Reuters. “It is hard to interpret the decision as anything but price supportive.”
Connor Echols is a reporter for Responsible Statecraft. He was previously an associate editor at the Nonzero Foundation, where he co-wrote a weekly foreign policy newsletter. Echols received his bachelor’s degree from Northwestern University, where he studied journalism and Middle East and North African Studies.
The past year has witnessed a growing chorus of alarm in Washington regarding the military utility of space. From the proliferation of space debris to the hastened tempo of anti-satellite (ASAT) weapons development by China and Russia, there is a fear that U.S. space assets are held in peril by the threat of direct attack and the destruction of orbital usability. In November of last year, Chief of Space Operations General Chance Saltzman went as far as to designate China’s adoption of ASATs in 2007 as a key moment of inflection in the militarization of space.
These worries have a legitimate basis — scientists have posited that space debris has the potential to render certain orbital clouds such as low earth orbit (LEO) unusable through cascading collisions. ASATs only compound this risk, as even individual tests can generate thousands of pieces of debris. Further, LEO and other orbits are a vital terrain for U.S. military satellites, whose uses range from communication to positioning systems and intelligence collection. This led the Biden administration to adopt a unilateral moratorium on ASAT testing in 2022.
While limiting testing is necessary and prudent, it has done little dissuade testing or proliferation of ASATs. For one thing, in the short termism of contemporary armed conflict, the ability to eliminate space-based command and control architecture and other systems, particularly those of an adversary operating far from their shores, confers a powerful rationale in favor of ASAT use in war. Because of this, there is little to motivate Chinese and Russian action towards disuse absent a wider, multi-national negotiation.
This contention is well documented and understood in Washington, as well as in Beijing and Moscow. What American national security planners seem to understand less well is that the current trajectory of ASAT proliferation does not start abroad but at home.
In the hubris of the unipolar moment, when much of the multilateralism that undergirded the official if imperfect and uneasy peace between the U.S. and USSR was traded in favor of muscular interventionism, the root cause reemerged. Indeed, insofar as the current ASAT problem can be understood as an arms race, it is a second iteration of the old Cold War problem of competing logics of deterrence and anti-ballistic missile (ABM) technology.
As soon as the missile age dawned with the launch of Sputnik aboard a Soviet R-7 rocket, methods for countering ballistic missiles entered development. While many of these early programs like Nike Zeus were fraught with technical limitations, a fear emerged that successful ABMs would undermine classical nuclear deterrence and promote preemptive nuclear use should one power or the other gain a protective ABM curtain. These fears eventually lead to the U.S. and USSR ratifying the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty in 1972, under which each country was limited to one ABM site per country.
To understand why this is the case it is first necessary to understand where the overlap between ABM and ASAT weapons systems exists. Not all ABMs can be used in an ASAT role. This is particularly true of point-defense ABM systems intended to intercept missiles in their terminal phase or those used to intercept shorter range missiles where less of the flight takes the missile outside the atmosphere. However, some other ABMs are capable of striking missiles in their midcourse phase in space. For these weapons, minor adjustments can be made to be used in an ASAT role and vice versa. Consider the U.S. Standard Missile 3 (SM-3), which has successfully engaged both missiles and satellites in kinetic testing.
Because of this overlap, the development of direct-ascent ASATs that overlap with ABMs have been governed by the same regulations as ABMs. Direct ascent ASAT development largely fell by the wayside following the ABM Treaty’s ratification, and other systems like directed energy weapons were technically infeasible.
Despite this, a coalition of hawkish anti-communists working in defense policy and academia mounted concerted opposition to the ABM treaty. Much of the opposition coalesced in think tanks like the Hudson Institute and Heritage Foundation, whose members helped serve as the intellectual primogenitors of the Reagan administration’s Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). While technologically fantastical at its time, the enduring legacy of SDI proved more ideological than material, as the rejection of deterrence in favor of active defense gained ground as a cornerstone of neoconservative national security policy in the 1980s and 1990s.
These voices would go on to exploit U.S. preeminence following the end of the Cold War to land a fatal blow to the ABM Treaty. Following concerted efforts from these same think tanks and others, including the Project for a New American Century and the Center for Security Policy, in 2002 the Bush administration finally withdrew from the ABM treaty, which coincided with a dramatic expansion of ballistic missile defense (BMD) architecture in the U.S. military and amongst foreign powers.
It is no mistake that the contemporary problem of ASAT proliferation followed in the years immediately following the end of the ABM treaty. Much like ABMs, development of ASATs stalled during the Cold War due to technical limitations. However, with the dubious legal basis of ASATs as ABM-adjacent weapons eroded, U.S. development of ASAT capabilities quickly escalated, culminating in the Burnt Frost test in 2008.
That other countries would follow this trajectory is hardly escalatory on their part, but U.S. concern stems from the fact that ASATs necessarily privilege belligerents for whom space based command and control is less essential. Considering that most of the global hot points for renewed great power competition are far flung from American shores, U.S. defense planners are now left to reckon with a hell of their own making, or perhaps more accurately a hell of their predecessors’ making. In a quest for preeminence, the U.S. unwittingly created a threat environment that advantages those it considers current or potential near peer adversaries. The shadow of the ABM Treaty withdrawal, as with much of U.S. policy misadventure, is an unforced error that now holds in peril significant military and civilian space-based infrastructure.
Laudable as U.S. efforts to minimize the impact of its own ASAT testing is, the heightened tensions between the world’s major powers invalidate unilateralism as a solution. Instead, to minimize the risk of ASATs, both to U.S. security and to the globalized world that relies on the peaceful employment of space, diplomacy remains the only path to success.
Mutual risk mitigation necessitates compromise; Russia and China are unlikely to cede the wartime advantage of ASATs absent a framework that preserves stasis for all involved. Perhaps here there is a silver lining to the demise of the ABM Treaty: the hope that in the void it leaves, a more permanent, global settlement can be reached before the threat reaches the levels of nuclear proliferation. As more powers push to acquire ASATs, the strategic imperative for their adoption grows, and with it the risk. The only hope to curb this state of affairs before it crosses a threshold of unacceptable destabilization is a lasting framework for disuse, one that can only come from negotiation, compromise, and cooperation.
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Victoria Nuland in interview with Mikhail Zygar (You Tube)
Victoria Nuland, former Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs and one of the principal architects of the Biden administration’s Russia policy, has now opined on what is perhaps the foggiest episode in a war distinguished by a nearly impenetrable kind of diplomatic opacity: the April 2022 Istanbul peace talks between Russia and Ukraine.
Furthermore she acknowledges that there was a deal on the table and that Western powers didn’t like conditions that would have limited Ukraine's military arsenal, lending credence to the theory that Ukraine’s supporters had a hand in ultimately scuttling it.
To be sure, neither the topic nor the content of Nuland’s comments is new. She is but the latest in a cavalcade of high-profile insiders, including former Israeli Prime Minister Nafatli Bennett and Ukrainian politician Davyd Arakhamia, whose testimony has shed light on the external pressures possibly informing the Zelenskyy government’s fateful decision to pull the plug on Turkish-brokered talks surrounding a draft treaty that would have ended the Ukraine war.
But, if we are to arrive at something approximating a full and unprejudiced post-mortem, it remains a necessary even if ungrateful task to carefully catalog all of these accounts — especially one from as influential a Russia policy figure as Nuland.
“Relatively late in the game the Ukrainians began asking for advice on where this thing was going and it became clear to us, clear to the Brits, clear to others that (Russian President Vladimir) Putin's main condition was buried in an annex to this document that they were working on,” she said, referencing Russia’s stipulation for hard caps and other limits on military personnel and types of weaponry that Ukraine can possess.
Such concessions, she argued, should be rejected by Kyiv because they would leave Ukraine “basically neutered as a military force.” She intimated, unsurprisingly without indulging specifics, that these anxieties were expressed by Western officials: “People inside Ukraine and people outside Ukraine started asking questions about whether this was a good deal and it was at that point that it fell apart,” Nuland said.
Just who “outside Ukraine” posed these questions and precisely what effect did these pointed queries exercise on Ukrainian officials? The full story of that short-lived diplomatic interlude is unlikely to be unraveled until after the war, in no small part due to the obvious political sensitivities at play. But there is now what appears to be, even in the most conservative estimation, a large body of circumstantial evidence that Western actors, quite possibly hailing from the UK and other countries which were designated as “guarantors” of Ukraine’s security under the Istanbul draft treaty, expressed reservations about the Istanbul format.
The extent to which these Western reservations were decisive insofar as they constituted a hard veto over the peace talks is a trickier question. One can reasonably surmise that Ukraine would have found it difficult to ink a deal that did not command at least tacit support from the Western countries on which it overwhelmingly relies, but it is no less true that the talks were fraught and, though there were positive signs of a slow convergence between the Moscow and Kyiv on key issues, the two sides were a considerable ways off from fully harmonizing their positions when the deal was terminated.
Victoria Nuland's comments lend further credence to the proposition that a settlement between Russia and Ukraine was on the table in Istanbul, that the West played a role in shaping Ukrainian thinking on the desirability of pursuing negotiations, and that Western leaders apparently conveyed the view that it was a bad deal.
Relitigating these details two years later cannot be dismissed as an exercise in political archeology; the facts of what transpired in Istanbul are as relevant as ever in informing our thinking about endgame scenarios as the war roils into its third year.
The Biden administration entered office in 2021 with a clear mandate on Iran: Joe Biden had run in opposition to the Trump administration’s scuttling of the 2015 nuclear deal struck under Barack Obama, and vowed to restore the agreement.
While President Biden made good on other campaign pledges to reverse harmful Trump policies, including to repeal the Muslim ban and rejoin the Paris Climate Accord, on Iran, Biden’s pledge fell flat. By failing to move decisively to rejoin the deal, the political space for a restoration of the accord evaporated, all while Iran’s nuclear program advanced, Iran’s government grew even more repressive and regional tensions accelerated.
This failure to break from Trump’s Iran policy and instead act as its steward has allowed Trump to attack Biden, and now Kamala Harris, as too soft on Iran. Under Trump’s false portrayal of events, his exit from the nuclear deal and the snapback of sanctions made Iran go “broke,” depriving it of funds that it could have instead used for terrorism. He suggests Biden then eased the sanctions, allowing groups like Hamas to plan and then execute the October 7 attacks and risking a broader war. It might be a compelling tale, but it is total fiction.
Harris shouldn't try to out-hawk Trump on Iran. Unfortunately, there have been some worrying signs that this could be the plan. Recently, a Harris campaign social media account criticized Trump for suggesting hemight lift sanctions on Iran, even though Harris — along with Biden, Walz and a majority of Democrats — rightly opposed his decision to exit the nuclear deal and impose maximum pressure sanctions on Iran in 2018.
Moreover, while theplatform of the Democratic National Committee in 2020 declared “Democrats will call off the Trump Administration's race to war with Iran and prioritize nuclear diplomacy, de-escalation, and regional dialogue,” including a return to the nuclear deal, the 2024 platform strikes a far more militaristic tone. It emphasizes military action against “Iranian-linked targets” under Biden and warns that Trump had supposedly engaged in “fecklessness and weakness in the face of Iranian aggression.”
Shifting from an accurate portrayal of Trump’s Iran policies to instead attacking him for not being hawkish enough risks further alienating the anti-war wing of the Democratic Party and independents who want to vote for a pro-peace candidate. Instead, Harris should go after Trump’s terrible approach toward Iran which sowed the seeds of the conflict the Biden-Harris administration is still dealing with today. There are plenty of indisputable facts that she can utilize to point out Trump’s failure on Iran.
Critically, Trump ended restraints on Iran’s nuclear program that would still be in place today, and for years to come. Instead of a small stockpile of uranium enriched to the lowest levels, Iran has a growing stockpile of uranium enriched just below weapons grade that could be enough for multiple nuclear weapons with further enrichment. Instead of intrusive inspections, the IAEA has seen its access diminished.
Moreover, the authoritarians in Iran’s government never went broke — but plenty of ordinary Iranians did. While millions of families fell out of the ranks of the middle class and into poverty and had to give up critical staples including meat amid hyperinflation, the rulers of Iran never felt the squeeze. During Trump’s final year in office, the World Bank notes that Iran managed 3.3% economic growth, even under the supposedly crushing sanctions.
Moreover, Iranian oil began its rebound, as Iran found workarounds to the sanctions and began to find buyers for its exports even under the direct threats of Trump officials.
Critically, contrary to Trump’s narrative, Hamas and the Iranian government even managed to reconcile under his administration. In prior years, Iran had largely halted its funding to Hamas over the group siding with rebels in the Syrian civil war against the Assad government. Far from being cut off, Iran doubled down on its axis of resistance amid the maximum pressure sanctions.
Iran also greatly accelerated its missile capabilities under the Trump administration and demonstrated their growing efficacy. This includes the daring cruise missile strike on Saudi Arabian oil facilities at Abqaiq, which the Trump administration largely ignored, and the serious overnight missile onslaught targeted at U.S. bases in Iraq following the reckless decision to assassinate Iranian general Qassem Soleimani.
Iran proxies had halted attacks on U.S. service members during Obama's engagement — but that all changed under Trump. As the State Department noted, there were no significant attacks on U.S. troops from Iran or its proxies from 2012 to 2018 during the negotiations that produced the Iran nuclear agreement and while the agreement was being implemented. However, attacks resumed after Trump abrogated the nuclear deal, including a rise of 400% between 2019 and 2020 when Trump designated the IRGC as a Foreign Terrorist Organization and assassinated Soleimani.
On point after point, Trump delivered a legacy of failure via maximum pressure, which needs to be called out. But Harris can’t fall back on a legacy of success given the Biden administration’s failure to chart a new course and restore the 2015 nuclear deal. So what should a new administration do?
First, greater efforts to end the war in Gaza and prevent a broader regional war are urgently needed. A ceasefire is just and necessary in its own right, but doubly necessary when considering how close the U.S. and Iran have come to entering a broader war over the past year. And, as long as the Gaza war continues, it is highly unlikely that there would be political space in Washington or Tehran for negotiations on the many serious issues that need to be negotiated.
Second, a serious presidential candidate should reiterate that challenges with Iran need to be resolved through serious negotiations, not endless sanctions and saber rattling that have brought us to the brink of disaster. Harris should embrace the success of Obama’s diplomatic approach and contrast that with the failure of Trump’s reckless diplomatic sabotage.
There is a real opportunity for new engagement, given the surprise election of Masoud Pezeshkian in Iran and the return of many of the key figures involved in the striking of the 2015 nuclear deal from the political wilderness to positions of authority. But so long as Democrats frame their Iran approach as “Trump light” and make it a question of who can be more belligerent rather than who can actually be most effective, they will be fighting a losing rhetorical battle.
The vast majority of Americans do not want to go to war with Iran, and want their president to be smart about using leverage to address security threats. For all of Trump’s failings, his political instincts suggest that he understands this and hence frequently talks about how he does not want war and will secure a deal — despite his track record to the contrary.
Rather than going on defense to appear tough and focusing only on the “lethality” of military options, Harris must articulate how her administration would be different from both Trump and Biden, and more effective at actually resolving the challenges rather than exacerbating them further like her would-be predecessors.
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