Subscribe now

Refer a friend

I have a distinct memory of sitting in a personnel security briefing as a 21-year-old State Department intern. At one point, the presenter cast a humorless glare at the men in the room. He reminded us that upon joining the State Department and receiving a security clearance , we had not suddenly become God’s gift to woman, and any sudden romantic advances should be viewed with appropriate suspicion. At the time, I found it all kind of funny. I figured that college students would not be prime targets for honeypotting, so I filed away the warning as an amusing anecdote.

Fast forward to 2023, a little over a year after Russia’s full-scale invasion began. As CEO of the Renew Democracy Initiative, I was organizing our aid for frontline communities in Ukraine, advocating with lawmakers for more military assistance to Kyiv, and speaking at rallies and appearing regularly on Ukrainian television. My work also took me to Europe, where I attended conferences with allied leaders to try to line up more support for Ukraine.

At one European conference, I met a Ukrainian woman. She was in her 20s, probably a few years my junior. We hit it off. She loved my travel stories. She was eager to hear about my work at RDI. And she wanted to know all about our chairman, Garry Kasparov.

We hung out, and then we hung out again, and again. I was single and enjoying my time with my new Ukrainian friend. Who knows where our meet-cute might lead?

There were a few yellow flags about our interactions. Initially, I reasoned my way around them. We spoke in Russian—but then, many Ukrainians still speak Russian behind closed doors (including President Zelenskyy). She was very curious about RDI’s work. However—without being too self-aggrandizing—I’m lucky enough to have an interesting job! Then there were her questions about Garry. They were a little specific—she wanted to know where he’d be at upcoming events, for example. In fairness, I thought, Garry is an international celebrity, and he’s especially famous in the former Soviet Union. Plenty of people want to meet him without harboring any ulterior motives. She wouldn’t be the first superfan who wanted an introduction.

There’s one more element to this. If you’ll permit me to be a bit crass, my new friend was attractive, but she wasn’t a supermodel. I say this because the archetypal spy who loved me would likely be out of my league. I felt like our thing was good, but not too good to be true.

A while later, I was at the Munich Security Conference, one of the top gatherings of military and political leaders in the world. And there, on the very first day of the conference, I ran into my new friend again.

Of all the gin joints.

She told me she was there for a side event for Ukrainian graduate students. There are plenty of side events at Munich, so that didn’t grab my attention. But then she started peppering me with questions: Which side events was I going to? Could I get her into a fancy dinner the Ukrainian delegation was hosting?

Wasn’t she there with a Ukrainian group? Why did she need a special invitation to meet with other Ukrainians if she’d already scored an invite to one of the more exclusive events in the world? That was odd.

At this point, I was pretty busy and I decided to focus my attention on the event rather than my friend’s mounting requests.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about her. Back in America, I started replaying our time together. Unbidden, that long-ago State Department briefing came to mind.

RDI’s work is sensitive—we have many people in our network who are wanted by hostile foreign dictatorships, to say nothing of our on-the-ground efforts in Ukraine (including two delegations) and my own Russian-language media appearances. So, feeling pretty ridiculous, I decided to reach out to an acquaintance in federal law enforcement to see if he could look into this. I opened the call by apologizing for wasting his time with what was probably just paranoia.

A few weeks later, my contact called me. Could I meet him and a colleague for lunch? In a scene that was a little film noir, we sat down at a New York diner and he slid a photo across the table. It was a candid, taken at a distance. The woman in the photo was on the move, clearly unaware she was being recorded. It was my Ukrainian friend, the one I’d met in Europe.

Except she may not have been Ukrainian, and we definitely weren’t going to be friends. These feds believed she was FSB—Russian intelligence.

Guess I wasn’t being paranoid after all!

In recent days, I’ve returned to this experience because it means I have something in common with mega billionaire, AI godfather, close Trump associate, and now former CEO of Nvidia Jensen Huang: we were both approached by foreign intelligence agents in honeypot schemes. Huang, it appears, had a two-year affair with a Chinese asset.

That’s where the similarities end. Our respective net worths are separated by several orders of magnitude. I run a non-profit. Huang led—until today—the single most important chipmaker in the world.

More importantly, Huang’s two-year-long indiscretion may have allowed his would-be CCP lover to smuggle hundreds of thousands of restricted AI chips back to China. My own experience turned out to be little more than an interesting story precisely because I was cautious enough to pull the alarm before anything happened.

This difference is especially galling the more you think about it. As head of Nvidia, Huang had a security team rivaling that of a head of state. And he was close to actual heads of state, including our president, Donald J. Trump.

How did he miss the warning signs? Did he miss the warning signs? Recent reporting suggests President Trump may have known that Huang was in a relationship with a Chinese spy when he brought the tech exec in his entourage to Beijing earlier this year. This seems like the sort of thing the president might have wanted to take up with a man ostensibly ensuring American dominance in the AI race.

On a personal level, there’s also the fact that Huang is (was?) married. I was single throughout my brush with the Russian secret services. Apparently, the Chinese agent wasn’t Huang’s only extramarital affair—he also had a relationship with a direct report. This means that unless he was in an open marriage, he was already sneaking around. We know that Huang’s security team was aware of his proclivities, since they got that employee to sign an NDA. Couldn’t they have also looked into the Chinese woman he was surreptitiously dating? In the end, it seems he was more worried about his wife discovering his personal secrets than he was about the Chinese government discovering trade secrets with vast national-security implications.

I can’t really pat myself on the back for picking up on something that Jensen Huang missed. I did little more than exercise a bare-minimum degree of common sense. The real takeaway is that some subset of the most powerful men in the United States either lose their sense of self-awareness in the face of basic temptation or they simply don’t care if dictators who mean America harm use them to advance Chinese, Russian, or other interests at the expense of our own.

Uriel Epshtein is the CEO of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Become a premium subscriber. Your contribution supports the work of the Renew Democracy Initiative—direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine, dissident-led civic education in the US, and getting more content up here on The Next Move. You’ll get exclusive access to the premium subscriber chat with Garry, early access to podcasts, and automatic entry for special giveaways.

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

I was invited to speak at this year’s Berlin Freedom Week. Here’s what I said in my speech yesterday—and why I didn’t say it in person:

Berlin Freedom Week has now become a tradition. It coincides with my own anniversary of becoming a world chess champion on November 9, 1985.

I also remember another November 9: November 9, 1989. I recall it quite well. As a young Soviet champion, I had unique access to the West through my competitions. Over the preceding years, I’d seen the promise of the democratic world and the cracks in the Iron Curtain. In a single night, those cracks burst open.

But as we reflect on November 9, let’s remember that dates don’t make a difference—people do. The fall of the Berlin Wall is not about November 9. It is about the brave East German and Polish and Czech and Soviet dissidents who risked their lives fighting the communist regimes. Biermann and Walesa and Havel and Sakharov. It is about the bold Western leaders who outmaneuvered and outpressured the rigid party bosses in Moscow. Kennedy and Reagan, Thatcher and Kohl.

Because of these men and women, who possessed strong values and clarity of purpose, we celebrate November 9. But with different players, at different moments, November 9 has also been a black mark on the calendar. November 9 is Kristallnacht in 1938. It is the second day of Hitler’s Beer Hall Putsch in 1923.

People count. Actions count. Dates are just a way of organizing them.

It is much the same with treaties and alliances. German Chancellor von Bethmann-Hollweg was not wrong when he said, in 1914, that a treaty is merely “a scrap of paper.” It is the leaders who guarantee a treaty, who give it teeth. This is why you will never hear me celebrate NATO’s Article 5. Not because I don’t support NATO—I believe in the principles behind the alliance—but I support NATO doing something to live up to those principles. To support Ukrainian victory by providing them with everything that they need to defeat Russia.

That’s the bare minimum.

We have to stop resting on our laurels, celebrating the past, and take action with our view firmly on the horizon.

Let this be the last Berlin Freedom Week where we pat ourselves on the back for the fall of the wall, and let this be the first Berlin Freedom Week where we finally get on a war footing and take the fight to the dictators’ doorsteps.

I have found that urgency mostly lacking in Europe. There are signs of resistance. In the Baltics. In Scandinavia. In Poland. The places where the memory of Russian imperialism is genetic. Yet even there, resolve is slipping. What can we say when the Norwegian prime minister and Finnish president chat with Vladimir Putin on the phone and preach about “dialogue”?

A month ago, I was at the Warsaw Security Forum. No matter how many Russian violations of Polish sovereignty, no matter the brutality of the war right over the border in Ukraine, no matter the centuries of Russian colonization of Poland, no one was ready to say in public that they were in a war with Russia and that Europe must respond accordingly.

And in the centers of power—in Brussels, in Paris, here in Berlin? There was never any fight to begin with.

No matter how transparently Russia aggresses against the democratic world, Europe remains stubbornly detached. That detachment invites Russia to be even more brazen in its actions abroad.

That brings me to why I am not in Berlin.

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Become a premium subscriber. You’ll get exclusive access to the premium subscriber chat with Garry, early access to podcasts, and automatic entry for special giveaways. Your contribution supports the work of the Renew Democracy Initiative—direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine, dissident-led civic education in the US, and getting more content up here on The Next Move.

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

How do I see Election Day through Russian eyes?

In Russia, we had a couple of elections in the 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union. At first, they were free and mostly fair. After Boris Yeltsin forced through a new constitution and invaded Chechnya, those elections were free but no longer fair. Anyone could run, and anyone could vote, but the playing field was tilted heavily in the government’s favor. Yet even this stunted democracy proved to be an aberration in Russian history. By the end of the decade, we fell back into our old habits.

Every other freedom rests on the freedom to choose our leaders. That is why, in the early days of Vladimir’s Putin’s reign, I joined a broad-based opposition movement. Our coalition spanned the left-right spectrum, bringing in groups whose ideals were ideologically alien to me. Still, we agreed upon one foundational position: Russia must have free and fair elections.

Then, I decided to run for president of Russia in the country’s 2008 elections.

Well, I tried to run for president.

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Now through the end of October, you can save 30% when you upgrade to join The Next Move’s premium subscriber community. Your contribution advances the efforts of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine—essential work while US support for Ukraine hangs in the balance. Premium subscribers receive exclusive benefits like early access to podcasts, access to The Next Move’s subscriber chat, and automatic entry into raffles for signed chess sets. Click here to upgrade.

Yevgeny Simkin is the co-founder and CEO of Samizdat Online, a free-speech platform designed to get journalism past government censors. Samizdat Online publishes in English, Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, and Farsi.

When Vladimir Putin invaded Ukraine in February of 2022 I, like many of you, immediately wondered: “What can I do to help?”

It’s incredibly frustrating to watch tsunami-sized events wash over whole populations, feeling unable to do anything—and worse, unable to even imagine what “anything” would look like.

I was born in Soviet Russia and have a very personal—almost visceral—revulsion at the oppression that tyrannies visit on their people. The suppression of speech is the worst of those abuses because all of the other horrors are built upon enforced silence.

On February 24, 2022 the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg weren’t overrun with outraged protestors. I understood right away that Putin’s grip on Russia’s information space was so tight that even Russians with family in Ukraine remained blind to what was happening. In one case, a Kyiv man called his father in the Russian city of Nizhny Novgorod to report that Putin’s forces were bombing the Ukrainian capital. His father refused to believe it.

Then, the idea struck me.

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Now through the end of October, you can save 30% when you upgrade to join The Next Move’s premium subscriber community. Your contribution advances the efforts of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine—essential work while US support for Ukraine hangs in the balance. Premium subscribers receive exclusive benefits like early access to podcasts, access to The Next Move’s subscriber chat, and automatic entry into raffles for signed chess sets. Click here to upgrade.

In late summer 1944, as the Allies clawed France back from Nazi occupation, Adolf Hitler is reported to have asked one of his generals, “Is Paris burning?”

The führer’s question was more of a demand; Hitler wanted to deploy scorched-earth tactics in the French capital to slow the Anglo-American advance.

Fortunately, the German dictator’s underlings punted and Paris was spared. Today, however, Paris is in flames, along with several other French cities. Rioters have torched cars and buildings and smashed homes and storefronts. Like Hitler before him, Vladimir Putin needs the West ablaze in order to postpone military defeat.

With Russia, nothing comes out of the blue. The timing—coinciding with Donald Trump’s final, complete betrayal of Ukraine, ahead of the November US midterms and presidential elections in France next spring—is no accident.

Everything is telegraphed, and the Kremlin’s hand is plainly visible in the chaos for all those willing to see. Here is Putin’s playbook:

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Now through the end of October, you can save 30% when you upgrade to join The Next Move’s premium subscriber community. Your contribution advances the efforts of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine—essential work while US support for Ukraine hangs in the balance. Premium subscribers receive exclusive benefits like early access to podcasts, access to The Next Move’s subscriber chat, and automatic entry into raffles for signed chess sets. Click here to upgrade.

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

America dealt two grave betrayals to Ukraine in the past week. More are surely coming.

Last Friday, Donald Trump announced that the United States would again buy Russian diesel. When Volodymyr Zelenskyy protested, Trump said that Ukraine needed new leadership (what is it they say about glass houses?).

Today, Ukraine is facing new restrictions on Starshield, the military version of Starlink, introducing a serious new handicap to Kyiv’s battlefield capabilities. Notably, Elon Musk—no fan of Ukraine and Zelenskyy—was quick to suggest that it was Trump who cut off access.

We cannot overstate the seriousness of these transgressions. Trump and Zelenskyy have butted heads before. Now, the administration is preparing for the next step.

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

For over two decades, since the moment I retired from chess to stand up against Putin’s rising dictatorship, I’ve been asked, “Aren’t you worried about your safety?”

My friend and opposition colleague Boris Nemtsov was murdered in cold blood in front of the Kremlin on February 27, 2015, and the questions redoubled.

I always tried to downplay this uncomfortable line of inquiry, relying on a set of stock answers while I was on a book tour for Winter Is Coming.

“Would it help if I were worried?”

“I don’t fly Aeroflot and I don’t drink tea with strangers.”

“I decided long ago that I was going to do what I knew was right.”

The Kremlin’s fondness for international assassinations of its critics and enemies has a long history. This year, Moscow has ramped up its covert actions and sabotage campaign across Europe. So today’s news naming me and my long-time associate and Free Russia Forum co-founder Ivan Tyutrin as assassination targets cannot be called a surprise—but it’s still a shock.

Neither I nor Ivan have been told explicitly that we were the targets whose names are redacted in the indictment of the assassins. We were, however, warned by security services in Lithuania and the US that our lives were in danger and that we should take precautions, which I did and will continue to do.

But I will not stop and I will not hide, even if I thought it was possible to do so. I believe that the best defense is a good offense. My family and I will not truly be safe as long as Putin is in power in Russia—a circumstance shared by millions. And so I will continue to do everything I can to rally the free world against Putin’s murderous dictatorship, especially by supporting Ukraine militarily and economically—and punishing Russia in similar fashion.

In fact, I’m writing these words from Strasbourg, France, where we are doing our best to bring pressure via the European Court of Human Rights. It is vital to create legal mechanisms to release frozen Russian funds, especially in Belgium, and we greatly appreciate PACE President Petra Bayr’s leadership in this regard. Expect more news on this front tomorrow.

My thanks to everyone who joins me in this cause and to those who have sent me kind words of support after this news.

A note from RDI CEO Uriel Epshtein: I’m lucky. Having been born in the US to Soviet parents, I only ever heard about life under dictatorship. But now things are getting real: I reached out to all of you on Monday noting that the security situation had changed. Now, the full story has leaked, and we can speak a bit more openly.

This is a scary situation, but as Garry said, worrying won’t change anything. The only way out is through. Our safety and the safety of countless millions hinge on Putin’s ultimate defeat. So RDI has no intention of backing down. We’ll continue to deliver aid to the frontlines in Ukraine, support dissidents here in the US, and wage the narrative battle on The Next Move. I also can’t hide the fact that doing this kind of work has gotten more expensive. We have to take more precautions and spend more money on security, both physical and digital.

We need you to help make it possible. You can advance this work by supporting RDI directly, becoming a premium subscriber, or gifting a subscription. The fight continues!

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Uriel Epshtein is the CEO of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

Recently, we were advised to increase our security. Then, just the other week, federal authorities released the reason why: the Russian regime is hunting opponents on American soil.

The Bureau busted a spy ring in the US. Intelligence officers from the FSB—that’s Putin’s version of the KGB—hired a Brooklyn man to surveil prominent Russian pro-democracy activists. Then the Russians offered their contractor tens of thousands of dollars to “eliminate” the target. We are grateful to the brave law enforcement officers who thwarted this scheme.

We have the privilege of working with countless dissidents here in the US, including, of course, our chairman and founder—Garry Kasparov—one of Putin’s most prominent opponents. The Renew Democracy Initiative (publisher of The Next Move) has been at the forefront of calling for the US government to do more to protect those who flee to our shores in search of freedom. We have been and remain vocal in pushing back against political extremism and dictators worldwide. Given the nature of our work, we’re not always well received in some circles, so we take security seriously. But we haven’t been directly targeted (up until recently).

Now we are taking additional precautions to ensure our colleagues’ safety.

Needless to say, these precautions aren’t free. And so, I’m asking you, The Next Move community, to stand with us.

Here’s how you can help:

Subscribe now

Consider upgrading to a premium subscription: your contribution will help us protect our people, build a media platform that makes their stories impossible to ignore, push back against dictators who target their perceived enemies when threatened, and reawaken the survival instinct of free societies.

Your contributions directly support the work of the Renew Democracy Initiative, giving us the flexibility to protect our dissident network and act quickly when new threats like this emerge.

Share

Share this piece with your network. The Kremlin is betting that most Americans never hear about this. Prove them wrong.

Sincerely,

Uriel Epshtein
CEO, Renew Democracy Initiative

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Issac Olvera is a writer, investor, and former US Marine officer based in Ukraine. Following Russia’s invasion, he fought in the Ukrainian military as a foreign volunteer. He wrote about that experience in his book Reckoning Dreams and Fire. He now manages StrategiX Ventures, a fund that invests in Ukraine. Connect with him on X.

Gdansk, Poland, is a postcard city: modern buildings and restored Baltic Gothic originals stand side by side along placid canals. The signs are multilingual, the streets are immaculately clean and noticeably quiet—most cars in the city center are electric.

The uninformed observer might struggle to imagine that just a few generations ago, this picturesque city lay in ruins.

Gdansk, and Poland more broadly, didn’t just recover from the devastation of World War II and decades of Soviet domination. Poland has soared to the front of the pack; today, it boasts the sixth-largest economy in the European Union. That transformation made Gdansk the perfect venue for a high-level summit on rebuilding Ukraine. In the summer, I joined diplomats, policymakers, CEOs, and academics to see how we might replicate Gdansk’s remarkable recovery.

First, it’s worth briefly relaying how I ended up in this Baltic Sea port city. I’m an American, but I live in Ukraine. In early 2022, I was a management consultant in Texas. When Russia invaded, I walked away from that life and joined the Ukrainian military. I had no ties to the country, but I was inspired by its brave stand against authoritarianism. As a US Marine Corps veteran, I thought I could help.

Thousands of foreign volunteers made the same choice. Today, I’m no longer fighting on the front lines. Instead, I support the cause by running a small investment fund focused on Ukraine. Victory depends on weapons and capital. I did what I could with the former; now I’m trying to contribute with the latter.

Rebuilding Ukraine’s economy and society will be almost as tall an order as winning the war itself. World Bank estimates put war damage—to the extent it can be measured—at $580 billion. As many as 150,000 Ukrainian soldiers have been killed, and nearly 10 million have been displaced.

But I left the Gdansk conference hopeful. I feverishly scribbled notes as I listened to the visiting dignitaries, paying close attention to their arguments, plans, and proposals. Here’s why I’m optimistic about Ukraine’s capacity to bounce back:

The precedents: Japan, Germany, South Korea

Poland isn’t the only country to bounce back after a terrible war. Three of the world’s leading economic powerhouses—Japan, Germany, and South Korea—suffered far-reaching destruction in the last century.

By 1945, nearly three million people had died in Japan. Adjusted for inflation, the country had endured $500-$700 billion in damage, in the same ballpark as Ukraine’s estimate. On the other side of the world, Japan’s German ally had a similar story: seven to eight million dead, a collapsed economy, and $400-$600 billion in damage.

Not even a decade later, South Korea’s situation was even worse, at least economically. At the end of the Korean War, the country had suffered $500 billion in damage. Half of its industrial capacity was destroyed.

Despite the vast destruction, each country got another chance. Seven years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan had returned to its prewar economic levels. West Germany and South Korea reached the same milestone nine years after the guns went quiet.

In all three cases, the end of war marked the beginning of an astounding economic transformation. By 1960, Japan became the world’s seventh largest economy, while West Germany rose to third place, behind only the US and the Soviet Union. South Korea took three decades to become a major economy, but today it ranks fifteenth. In each case, the turnaround was so statistically unlikely that economists called it a miracle.

If those countries could do it, maybe Ukraine can too.

ICYMI: Listen to Issac’s story on the Older/Wiser Podcast

The case for a Ukrainian transformation

The aforementioned success stories share some common characteristics. Despite the devastation, human capital survived, and strong institutions survived (or emerged, in South Korea’s case).

In the case of Ukraine, the noise and fog of war obscure the advantages it still has. Ukraine retains one of Europe’s most educated populations, including in highly technical fields. Ukraine built the most innovative defense ecosystem in the world, and its government is setting the pace in digital transformation (in fact, Ukraine has an entire ministry dedicated to this endeavor).

Kyiv, Ukraine, 2026. Russian drones and missiles destroyed an indoor market. A week later, business resumed outdoors. (Photo: Author. The site has been struck again since this photo was taken).

Rebuilding at war

There is one important caveat: Germany, Japan, and South Korea enjoyed opportunities to rebuild in peace. Ukraine is still at war.

One South Korean official I spoke with was unfazed by this. My-hyuck Lee is a representative of South Korea’s development corporation, which is coordinating joint projects with Kyiv. He prefers to go by “Badger,” owing to a distinctive stripe of grey hair.

“The most likely scenario for Ukraine is the Korean model,” Badger told me, “a frozen conflict, with a militarized border.”

I agree with him: the war might just halt, with no concession of land or a handshake. Just an agreement not to fire. That was good enough for South Korea to become one of the world’s top economies. It could also work for Ukraine.

What about security guarantees? In the three success stories I cited, the United States enforced geopolitical stability with strong alliances. But today, ample evidence suggests the US is more likely to reward Russia than to back Ukraine’s security (and with Trump’s recent praise for Kim Jong-un, even our commitment to South Korea is in question).

Europe could fill an America-shaped void. Its population, economic heft, and defense-industrial base dwarf Russia’s. The continent only suffers a crisis of confidence: NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, the man in charge of coordinating the transatlantic collective security arrangement, doesn’t even think the 32-member alliance can protect itself without the US, much less defend Ukraine. But Europe found the will to sanction Russia, arm Ukraine, and absorb millions of refugees when the invasion first came. The capacity is there.

Ukrainian transformation

At the conference I noticed non-Ukrainians use the word “reconstruction.” I’ve used it too. But Ukrainians seem to prefer “transformation.”

One banking executive, whose name I didn’t catch, put it plainly: “We are not reconstructing the Soviet buildings that were destroyed.” His bank is financing development projects.

After World War II, planners in Gdansk preserved some of the medieval elements while redesigning the city to accommodate housing, utilities, and transportation for the future. Ukraine is taking the same approach.

Russia destroyed many of Ukraine’s power plants, but Kyiv is not rebuilding them. It’s not possible, and it’s not worth it. Instead, recovery funds have gone toward building smaller, distributed networks that are harder to destroy and are increasingly powered by renewable energy. During the conference, the country’s largest energy company, DTEK, signed a deal with General Electric to build a new, modern, efficient plant in western Ukraine.

Similarly, the Ukrainian government had plans to decommission many hospitals before Russian bombs destroyed 400 of them. Russia’s violence has actually forced Ukraine into a clean slate on which to prototype the future.

The Corruption Question

Tymur Mindich, a close associate of President Zelenskyy, was accused of manipulating state energy companies and steering defense contracts. Despite his proximity to the president, the Mindich case was exposed and investigated (Mindich fled to Israel in late 2025 to escape prosecution).

Corruption persists in the country, no doubt, but the problem is also often overstated. Last year, in the middle of its existential war, tens of thousands of Ukrainians marched to protest a law that would stifle the independence of anti-corruption bodies. After a week of protests, the president backed down. Ukraine’s progress in fighting corruption is almost as impressive as its battlefield accomplishments.

Badger, the South Korean official, has some reassuring words drawn from personal experience. “Koreans were once viewed as lazy and corrupt,” he told me. “Today we’re viewed as disciplined innovators. The nation reinvented itself and the world recognized it. The same is happening in Ukraine.”

Foreign investment

Of course, the classic reconstruction cases benefited from significant foreign investment.

Anka Feldhusen is a former German diplomat who now serves as the business ombudsman in Ukraine. In her assessment, “Private money matters because public money alone won’t be enough. Germany’s recovery relied on private investors too.”

There’s no avoiding that investing in a country at war is risky. Just like there are brave soldiers and civilians in Ukraine, there are brave investors, but the current level of outside money only makes a dent in the overall need. The Bank of Ukraine estimates that about 40% of recovery needs will have to come from the private sector. Institutional investors are committing only a fraction of what they could contribute.

Those hesitating to invest in Ukraine should recall the post-war economic miracles. Investors in post-war Germany, Japan, and South Korea ended up making one of the best investments of the century. One dollar invested in Germany or Japan when they were in tatters would have roughly doubled within five years, quadrupled within ten, and grown five or six times over the next twenty years. South Korea’s case was even more staggering, growing twelvefold after two decades. By comparison, the US economy between 1945 and 1970, which was exceptional in its own right, expanded only three and a half times.

Reflecting on these facts, I left Gdansk with hope that Ukraine can recover from the ongoing Russian-led catastrophe. It is possible to prosper through territorial partition, as South Korea and West Germany did. Furthermore, the prosperity of Poland and the Baltic states demonstrates that countries widely viewed as underdogs can escape Russia’s orbit, integrate with democratic partners, and eventually outperform Russia itself.

With the structural transformations already underway, and just enough outside support, Ukraine is likely to be the economic miracle of the twenty-first century.

Stanley Wang contributed research for this article.

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Now through the end of October, you can save 30% when you upgrade to join The Next Move’s premium subscriber community. Your contribution advances the efforts of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including direct humanitarian aid to frontline communities in Ukraine—essential work while US support for Ukraine hangs in the balance. Premium subscribers receive exclusive benefits like early access to podcasts, access to The Next Move’s subscriber chat, and automatic entry into raffles for signed chess sets. Click here to upgrade.

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

If Russia attacks Europe, and Europe doesn’t call it war, is it actually a war? As the Kremlin continues to probe the West’s defenses, it’s clear that European leaders would prefer you call it “hybrid war,” hoping that the focus stays on the “hybrid” half of the equation and not on the “war.”

Last month, Russia carried out a drone attack at Leipzig/Halle Airport in Germany. One UAV was discovered before its payload could be detonated; a second collided with a cargo plane.

NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte took to X to declare that the alliance “stands in full solidarity with Germany after the Russian hybrid attack in Leipzig.”

“Hybrid attack”? Isn’t it just an “attack”? Would it still have been “hybrid” if a plane had crashed or people had been killed?

Read more

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Garry Kasparov is the founder and chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

Last week, I was in Poland on a personal diplomatic mission. I met the president, the foreign minister, a former prime minister, and the mayor of Warsaw. My goal was simple: strengthen a coalition for Ukrainian victory and against Russian imperialism.

On its face, that task might appear straightforward, especially in a place like Poland. As I’ll explain, things are never so simple.

Like the Ukrainians, Poles have also experienced the bitter taste of Russian imperialism for generations. Tragedies like the Katyn massacre—the murder of nearly 22,000 Polish officers by the Red Army—are seared into the Polish national consciousness. The Soviets invaded Poland along with the Nazis in 1939, and Poles lived under a Soviet-backed communist dictatorship for nearly half a century after the war.

All of that means a basic understanding of the Russian threat is baked into Poles’ DNA. After Russia invaded Ukraine, Poland stepped up to provide critical aid. The Polish government has provided the Ukrainian military with more tanks than any other country. Meanwhile, Poland hosts nearly a million Ukrainian refugees, making it the number two destination for people fleeing the Russian invasion.

The sudden arrival of such a large foreign population naturally puts a strain on even the most harmonious relationships. Polish law enforcement have reported an uptick in xenophobic attacks on Ukrainians, occurring everywhere from a construction site where refugees work to the schoolyard where their children play.

Add to this the fact that Poland and Ukraine have their own complicated backstory. Volodymyr Zelenskyy recently designated a Ukrainian military unit as “Heroes of the UPA”—the World War II-era Ukrainian Insurgent Army. To Ukrainians, the UPA are freedom fighters who resisted Soviet-Russian colonization. Poles remember the UPA as the villains behind the murder of their countrymen in the borderlands between Poland and the USSR. Americans may be accustomed to viewing World War II as a binary conflict, but many Central and Eastern European nations were caught between the twin evils of communism and fascism.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

In July, videos of Polish men beating a young Ukrainian couple went viral. There have been calls for an end to military aid to Ukraine until Zelenskyy withdraws the UPA honor. Lech Walesa, the heroic dissident and Poland’s first post-communist president, removed a Ukrainian flag pin from his chest. Walesa had worn the pin from the beginning of Russia’s invasion, and had previously lobbied the US government to provide more support for Ukraine. Meanwhile, the current president, Karol Nawrocki, rescinded Zelenskyy’s Order of the White Eagle, the highest award conferred by the Polish government.

Tensions about refugees and history are now feeding off of each other. Anti-Ukrainian sentiment in Poland is at its highest point since the full-scale invasion began.

This is the complex situation into which I stepped. I met with President Nawrocki, who’s affiliated with the right-wing Law and Justice party, and I met with Warsaw Mayor Trzaskowski from the liberal Civic Coalition (Trzakowski ran against Nawrocki in the last presidential election). I saw my friend, Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski of the Civic Coalition, and I shared a long conversation with former Prime Minister Mateusz Moriawecki, who led a Law and Justice government for six years. Now he’s launching a new political party that he describes as “the most lefty of the righties.” Anyway, I was not in Poland to pick sides; I was there to repair a coalition that spans the political spectrum.

My message was clear: Whatever Poland’s historical differences with Ukraine, they share a common enemy in Russia now, and the alliance between Warsaw and Kyiv is essential for both. A Russian missile landed on Polish territory during my stay, putting a very fine point on that argument. Vladimir Putin is actively probing NATO’s defenses, and I believe an open attack on an alliance member— probably one of the Baltics—is coming soon.

Of course, many friends of Ukraine would also humbly advise that Kyiv practice a bit of pragmatism in its dealings with Poland. Nevertheless, the priority should remain the same. Poles and Ukrainians might look to fellow democracies Japan and South Korea for inspiration. Tokyo and Seoul are finally rekindling their relationship despite a painful history because the threat from North Korea and China is too immediate to suffer decades-old distractions.

Americans, too, should consider what it means to prioritize and build a broad coalition for Ukraine. Zelenskyy recently caught flack from left-wing pundits like Mehdi Hasan for taking an interview with MAGA influencer Laura Loomer, who previously parroted the pro-Russian line. It’s certainly fair to question the motivations behind Loomer’s about face—grifters tend to follow the money. But people in the Ukrainians’ position can’t afford to pick and choose. The truth is that I don’t even agree with my Polish hosts on every single issue, but those private disagreements are unimportant. If Loomer’s conversion in turn converts her followers on the American right, then it will have been worth it. New recruits in the global fight for freedom over tyranny are always welcome.

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Issac Luna (Olvera) is a former US Marine Corps officer who fought for the Ukrainian military after the full-scale Russian invasion. He is the author of the book Reckoning Dreams and Fire, a memoir about his experience in Ukraine and other battles. Mr. Luna remains based in Ukraine. Follow him on X.

In March of this year, a few dozen people gathered in Moscow to protest. They weren’t speaking out against Russia’s criminal war against Ukraine; they were demonstrating against Internet restrictions in their own country. This act of self-expression was short-lived: 13 people were taken into custody

Meanwhile, for the last two weeks, in Kyiv and in every other major Ukrainian city, thousands have been protesting. Police stand nearby, calmly keeping watch. No one is arrested. In fact, many off-duty police officers are among the protesters.

Ukrainians are showing up to demonstrate against the removal of Mykhailo Fedorov, a young, reform-minded politician, from the post of minister of defense.

All of this is taking place under martial law, which grants governments expanded emergency powers needed to confront a declared threat. In Ukraine this means men aged 23 to 60 are barred from leaving the country, mass conscription, and curfews in most cities, including Kyiv. Ukrainians have endured these extraordinary restrictions for a reason: to protect their democracy. That’s why a US Marine veteran like me volunteered to serve in the Ukrainian military in the very first days of the full-scale invasion. Now Ukrainians are hitting the streets en masse for the same reason—to safeguard their freedom—and I had the privilege of joining them.

The ousted defense minister, Mykhailo Fedorov, is 35. A former tech entrepreneur, he’s spent nearly a decade in government, charismatic and untainted by the oligarch politics or scandals that have dogged Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s administration. Some protest signs even depict Fedorov as a saint, Byzantine-style.

Fedorov rose to prominence leading Ukraine’s digital transformation, moving services like passport applications, birth registrations, and marriage licenses online, providing a lifeline for millions displaced by war, and a system that cuts down on bribery by removing face-to-face contact and leaving an auditable digital trail.

Fedorov then got an unlikely promotion: minister of defense. With no military experience, and just old enough to be battalion commander, many were skeptical, myself included.

In Ukraine, many top commanders came from civilian careers, bringing ideas that often challenge the military orthodoxy. Robert “Magyar” Brovdi is one such individual: a man with a distinctively unkempt beard. He was a grain trader until 2022, but joined the military when Russia invaded. He pioneered Ukraine’s drone program and leads the equivalent of a brigade as a major. The deputy commander of Ukraine’s Air Force is a colonel with only five years of military experience. He was a TV producer before that. So the decision to put Fedorov in the top military job was less radical than in countries where business-as-usual rules apply.

Still, Fedorov’s appointment unsettled some in the traditional military establishment. He reportedly clashed with the commander-in-chief, Oleksandr Syrskyi, a general associated with the Soviet old guard that often favors costly conventional ground assaults.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

On paper, the Soviet-style doctrine disadvantages a smaller, less-well-equipped country like Ukraine. On the other hand—to be fair to Syrskyi—I am a NATO-trained former infantry officer, and I recognize that an old-school ground assault is often the only option.

Syrskyi pulled off incredible feats: the defense of Kyiv, the Kharkiv counteroffensive, and even an incursion into Russia. The front has been mostly stable. His imperfect approach deserves credit, but he does not enjoy the popularity and sterling reputation of Fedorov (a high bar).

During my service with the US Marine Corps, my instructors often said, “Don’t send a Marine where you can send a bullet first.”

Fedorov embraced a similar philosophy: don’t send a soldier where you can send a robot first.

With that mentality, he moved quickly, which is what the situation demanded. He coordinated with Elon Musk to block Russia’s access to Starlink. He also accelerated the deployment of cheap drones and ground robots, an asymmetric strategy that spared Ukrainian lives while killing Russians faster than Moscow could replace them. After uncovering overspending, he introduced polygraph testing for employees and implemented a more competitive and transparent procurement process.

Many credit Fedorov for turning the tide in the war. During his tenure, Ukraine recovered more land than it lost, disrupted Russian logistics in Crimea, intensified strikes against Russia’s energy infrastructure, triggering a fuel crisis, and decimated Russia’s shadow fleet in the Sea of Azov.

The pace of reforms was not fast enough for Fedorov, but it was too jarring for the establishment. Fedorov accused Syrskyi of slow rolling key reforms and urged Zelenskyy to replace him. Instead, six months into the job, President Zelenskyy fired the tech visionary and kept the military traditionalist.

The decision caused an immediate public uproar. Thousands of Ukrainians, carrying cardboard signs, marched toward the presidential complex along the well-worn path Ukrainians have used to express mass anger: in the revolutions of 2004 and 2014, and most recently in 2025, when crowds demanded the independence of anti–corruption institutions.

Many rank-and-file soldiers opposed Fedorov’s dismissal. In most countries soldiers can’t publicly protest against their chain of command. Ukraine is different because the situation here is unlike any in the world.

Many of Ukraine’s nearly one million soldiers were civilians not too long ago, and they remain engaged in issues that affect their very survival. They often show up to protests in civilian clothing. The military doesn’t try too hard to prevent it.

This was different. A Ukrainian friend, Alex, was an IT manager, until he was drafted over a year ago. He had planned to attend the protest but he heard soldiers who joined might face punishment, so he stayed home

Nevertheless, his interests were well represented. My fiancé’s sign featured a popular slogan: “I am here for those who are there [on the front].”

It is more than a slogan. I asked a young woman behind me why she had come. She opposed the president’s decision, and she was particularly motivated because her own father is fighting. It’s a strangely beautiful symbiotic relationship. The protesters were fighting for those who fight for them.

The crowds gathered daily and haven’t stopped. Their signs captured the mood: “You finally have such good cards, and you decided to play the fool.”

Another said “Help the president understand what is more effective: drones or shovels?” with a photo of Syrskyi next to a shovel.

The consensus was unambiguous: yes to Fedorov, no to Syrskyi.

I’m not Ukrainian so I’m not entitled to make demands, but I’m not indifferent to the events or its outcome.

In 2022, I left my life in the United States to fight in the Ukrainian army because I believed Ukraine deserved support as it defended its democracy against an autocratic invasion. And I’ve been inspired by their resolve since then.

Democracy is an active verb, so I came to the square to see if the country is moving in the right direction. And I am inspired once again. No one is being shot by the Ukrainian security service. No one is being arrested. In the middle of a war, under martial law, between air raid alarms, brigades of mostly young Ukrainians marched toward the president’s compound to make demands. That would not happen in Russia.

And it is working. Ukraine is no dictatorship. Its president is responsive to public demands under the most trying circumstances. After six days of the protests, Zelenskyy dismissed the unpopular general, Syrskyi. Stepping into the role of commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces of Ukraine is Mykhailo Drapatyi, a respected 45-year-old who started this war as a battalion commander. Unlike Syrskyi, with no connection to the Soviet legacy and the old guard.

It was another massive victory for the Ukrainian people, just as they won when they protested last year to restore the independence of a government anti-corruption watchdog.

The story isn’t fully resolved, though. Fedorov hasn’t been reinstated. Zelenskyy offered him other roles, including something akin to a national security adviser post, which he reportedly declined (along with offers from Palantir and the Italian government). Negotiations continue, but Ukrainians themselves are the catalysts and the brokers of this process.

More photos from the protests:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

The country of my birth no longer exists, and on Saturday, my adoptive country will be 250 years old. The American republic has outlasted the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics more than three times over. On the occasion of the Fourth of July, I’d like to offer some reflections on its meaning to this Russian.

It would be easy for me to say that, growing up in the communist system during the Cold War, I was conditioned to hate America. But this would be greatly oversimplifying things. The truth is that the America of my Soviet upbringing was both distant and extremely close. The United States was at once the object of vicious propaganda and grudging admiration verging upon envy.

I remember how official Soviet attitudes toward the United States charted a sort of schizophrenic course. The Kremlin attacked the US in the present for segregation and “capitalist hypocrisy” while also hailing America’s revolutionary pedigree.

Vladimir Lenin even acclaimed the American breakup with Great Britain as “a model of a revolutionary war.” During Joseph Stalin’s later reign, one Soviet historian praised the Declaration of Independence as “a progressive document of its time.”

1776 remained almost untouchable in the USSR. It’s a historical irony that today’s American far left holds the founders in lower regard than Soviet Communist Party ideologues, who could not help but respect the rebels who humbled the imperialists in London.

My own Soviet education was… unorthodox. There was the influence of the Jewish side of my family, who were highly critical of the Soviet regime. As a chess player, I also had far more access to the West than my comrades, so I approached America with extra curiosity and reverence. I devoured as much information as I could about the USA before I even visited the place.

On the sidelines of a Brussels tournament in 1986, I approached grandmaster Nigel Short, a Brit, with a friendly trivia exercise. He had to name at least 10 of the 15 Soviet republics, and I would have to list off at least 40 of 50 US states. Nigel, who’d been to the Soviet Union, struggled to identify two thirds of its provinces, but I proudly exceeded my minimum with 42 American states named (apologies to the people of Tennessee, I have a strong recollection that I forgot to call out the Volunteer State!).

I finally made it to the US in 1988, stopping in New York and DC. That trip was a whirlwind. The energy of American democracy was magnetic even to a non-American like me, but it took me a while to find my footing in US politics. I’d seen Ronald Reagan demand Mikhail Gorbachev tear down the Berlin Wall, and I wanted to belong to whatever movement the fortieth president represented. Yet, just a few years later, I watched as the first President Bush took pains to appease the Soviets. Just months before the USSR collapsed, he warned Ukrainians not to declare independence. In that moment, George Bush sounded a bit like King George III.

I am also socially liberal, and I found certain areas of agreement with Democrats. Ultimately, however, I decided that my path would be non-partisan and independent. Yet the novelty of a political system with more than one party, a system where not joining a party was also an option, will remain exciting for this child of the Soviet Union for as long as I live.

I carried my enthusiasm for America back to post-Soviet Russia with hope for a blank slate upon which to plant the self-evident truths about human freedom to which I’d been exposed.

You and I both know what came next. After years of protest, an arrest, and several friends jailed and murdered, I decided that my campaign against Vladimir Putin’s KGB regime would be most effectively waged outside of Russia’s borders. Fighting a ruthless dictator, where better to go than America? This is a country founded by people who pledged to one another “our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.”

All of that dynamism goes back to the Declaration, a blueprint for colonies reconstituted as “Free and Independent States.” America’s founding charter continues to be the model for liberation movements the world over. Declarations of independence from Korea to Kosovo have borrowed from language crafted two and a half centuries ago in Philadelphia.

It was for this reason that the United States of America stood apart in Soviet propaganda from Russia’s traditional rivals in Europe. Like the USSR, the USA was a country built upon an ideal, a new society. In this respect, America was not so much an immortal enemy as a fellow revolutionary state that had lost its way.

In reality, of course, it was the Soviets and their successors who constantly betrayed the principles of universal human rights. America is far from perfect, but for decades, its story was one of ever-expanding liberty. In Russia, the trajectory was one of instability, stagnation, and authoritarian decline.

Still, there are no fixed patterns in history. America’s continued success and openness are not guaranteed. For many Americans, this milestone Fourth of July may pass by as a kind of dull pain, a celebration seen as tone deaf amid the constant stream of insults and abuses flowing from the White House.

I am pushing back against the impulse to despair, and I appeal to you to do the same. America was the inspiration of my youth, and it has been my safe haven in more recent years. My wife and children are American citizens—thank goodness, by the way, for the Supreme Court’s ruling on birthright citizenship!

Ensuring this country’s future for the next 250 years and beyond means staking a claim to a proud legacy that goes back to July 4, 1776. Do not cede it to demagogues and extremists. Recognize that if you have something to lose, then you have something to fight for.

Happy Independence Day!

Subscribe now

Refer a friend

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Max Mottola is a communications intern at the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move. He is a student at the University of Chicago, where he is studying political science and economics.

Hanna Liubakova is a Belarusian journalist and political analyst. She is a nonresident senior fellow for the Atlantic Council’s Eurasia Center. Liubakova was sentenced in absentia to ten years in prison by the Belarusian regime for her journalistic work and is wanted across the Commonwealth of Independent States.

Belarus has frequently been described as the “last dictatorship in Europe.” The country, wedged between Poland, Ukraine, Russia, and the Baltics, doesn’t make the news as often as its neighbors, but it’s the site of an ongoing fight for freedom between an embattled opposition and the three-decade regime of Alyaksandr Lukashenka. The government violently suppressed protests after a disputed election in 2020 and has joined Vladimir Putin as an accomplice in the invasion of Ukraine.

Yet since July 2024, Belarus has released approximately 850 political prisoners, including Maria Kalesnikava, Nobel Peace Prize laureate Ales Bialiatski, and activist Siarhei Tsikhanouski, whose wife, Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, ran against Lukashenka in the 2020 election.

The US brokered several prisoner release deals in exchange for sanctions relief on Belavia, Belarus’s national airline, and on potash, a key ingredient in fertilizer. These deals mark a thaw in diplomacy between Belarus and the West after years of isolation.

The prisoner releases present a human rights mirage, obscuring the Belarusian regime’s continued repression. Instead of an opening in the country’s political system, the Lukashenka government has created a revolving door of political persecution, releasing some critics while imprisoning others. Today, human rights groups estimate that over 1,100 opposition figures remain behind bars.

Will Western democracies fall for this ruse? US President Donald Trump, who called Belarusian President Alyaksandr Lukashenka “well respected” and “a powerful leader,” reportedly reached an agreement with the strongman for the release of up to 1,300 prisoners. That was in August 2025. Belarus has still not met its obligations.

To cut through the noise, I spoke with Hanna Liubakova, a Belarusian journalist and political dissident wanted by the regime.

Before we dive into the conversation, a note on language. At the interviewee’s request, the Belarusian President will be referred to by his Belarusian name, Alyaksandr Lukashenka, rather than Alexander Lukashenko, the Russified version more commonly used in Western outlets. This reflects the will of the Belarusian resistance movement, whose members vehemently oppose Lukashenka’s crackdown on the use of the Belarusian language. Belarusian was the sole official language of Belarus when it became independent of the USSR and remained so until 1995, when Lukashenka called a referendum to give the Russian language official status. While Belarusian and Russian are nominally co-equal, the Belarusian language has been largely sidelined in many spheres of daily life, while Lukashenka has criminalized other symbols of Belarusian nationalism. In the same referendum that elevated the Russian language, Lukashenka also revoked the white-red-white Belarusian national flag in favor of a near-exact copy of the flag of the Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic—only with the communist hammer and sickle removed.

Max Mottola, The Next Move: Belarus has freed thousands of dissidents in exchange for lifted sanctions in a series of deals with the US. Why has Lukashenka opened negotiations with the Trump administration?

Hanna Liubakova: First, it is important to acknowledge the results. The American delegation, including Special Envoy John Coale and State Department representatives, has helped secure the release of hundreds of political prisoners. That is a significant achievement, and it is deeply appreciated by everyone.

As for why Lukashenka has become more open to negotiations with the US, I think there are several factors.

First, the Belarusian regime likely sees the current administration as more pragmatic and transactional, and therefore more open to making deals. Second, there is a history of engagement with the first Trump administration. Before the 2020 Belarusian presidential election, former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo visited Minsk, demonstrating that dialogue between Washington and Minsk was possible. That experience may have made Lukashenka more willing to engage again.

We should also look at the broader context. After the large prisoner exchange between Russia and the West in the summer of 2024, we saw similar discussions begin involving Belarus. At the same time, the regime has had to adapt to changing geopolitical and economic realities. Lukashenka has always sought to balance different centers of power and reduce his isolation when possible.

In many ways, this approach is not new. Throughout his political career, Lukashenka has repeatedly used political prisoners as bargaining chips in exchange for political benefits, sanctions relief, diplomatic engagement, or broader international recognition.

TNM: Do you think that these deals and Trump’s praise boost Lukashenka’s reputation and global standing?

HL: As for whether these contacts legitimize Lukashenka, I think the answer is more complicated.

Of course, many Belarusians are uncomfortable with language that refers to Lukashenka as a “president” or a “well-respected person.” Many of us do not call him president because he has remained in power through repression and electoral fraud.

At the same time, I do not think the primary purpose of such language is to legitimize him. My assumption is that it is part of a broader negotiation strategy aimed at securing the release of political prisoners.

The more important question is whether engagement produces results. So far, it has led to the release of hundreds of people. That is a real and tangible outcome.

At the same time, we should not lose sight of the bigger picture. Political prisoners continue to be arrested, repression continues, and the regime has not fundamentally changed its behavior. Any engagement with Lukashenka should remain focused on concrete results and should not be mistaken for political normalization.

TNM: Lukashenka came in as a virulently anti-Western figure. In neighboring Ukraine, Russian hostility has forced significant cultural, economic, and political realignment, as seen in Kyiv’s efforts to join the EU. Is a rapprochement with the West possible in Belarus with the country constrained by a Putin-friendly regime?

HL: I do not believe that Lukashenka will fundamentally change his ideological position. There is a common myth that he has been “balancing” between the West and Russia as a way of staying in power. In reality, he has also been balancing within his dependence on Russia—using limited engagement with the West primarily as leverage for his deals with Moscow.

Before 2020 and before the waiving of sanctions, Belarus did maintain relatively open relations with the US, the EU, and Ukraine. However, when Lukashenka faced his most serious political crisis during the mass protests in 2020, he turned to Russia for support. Putin provided it at a critical moment for his regime’s survival.

There have been cycles in this relationship: periods of tactical engagement with the West, followed by repression and sanctions, and then renewed reliance on Russia when Lukashenka feels threatened. This pattern has been consistent for decades. The difference now is not the logic itself, but the constraints. Since 2020—and especially since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine—the regime has far less room to maneuver. Its dependence on Russia has deepened, and its ability to pursue any meaningful balancing strategy has significantly narrowed.

At the same time, Lukashenka’s outreach to countries like China is both an economic necessity and a political attempt to signal that Belarus is not entirely without alternatives, even if those alternatives remain limited. This is also done to improve his position in conversations with Putin.

Ideology also matters. Lukashenka and Putin may not be best friends, but they are allies. The 1999 Union State Treaty was not imposed on Lukashenka. It was a choice that laid the groundwork for deeper long-term integration with Russia.

Given this trajectory, I do not see the current regime voluntarily pivoting toward the EU in any meaningful sense, except in a purely transactional way—if limited engagement helps reduce sanctions or unlock economic benefits. But this is not democratization or liberal reform. After more than 30 years in power, the system is structurally resistant to change. We should not expect a late-stage ideological transformation.

That said, it is important not to overlook Belarusian society. Even under repression, public moods matter. Many Belarusians want their country to be more open, less isolated, and more economically connected to Europe. This creates a form of internal pressure that the regime cannot fully ignore, even if it cannot be expressed politically. The West should keep this societal dimension in mind when assessing Belarus: the regime is constrained not only by Russia, but also by the long-term preferences of its own population.

TNM: How have Lukashenka’s efforts to direct migrants toward Lithuania, Poland, and other Eastern European countries, in what has been dubbed “migrant warfare,” affected European integration?

HL: The migration crisis was clearly orchestrated. The peak came in 2021, when thousands of migrants appeared at the EU’s borders with Belarus. Multiple investigations have documented efforts by organizations linked to the Belarusian regime to bring people into the country and facilitate their movement toward the borders of Lithuania, Poland, and Latvia. Given the level of control exercised by the Belarusian authorities, it is difficult to believe that thousands of people could have been transported to border areas without the regime’s knowledge. The regime was clearly aware of what was happening.

The goal was to pressure and blackmail the EU into easing sanctions and re-engaging with Lukashenka politically. He wanted the EU and Western governments to see him as both a troublemaker and someone they would ultimately need to talk to. He expected phone calls, meetings, and renewed diplomatic engagement as a way out of his international isolation.

There were, in fact, two phone calls from former German Chancellor Angela Merkel. However, she was already preparing to leave office, and the calls did not result in any meaningful political rehabilitation for Lukashenka. While he may have viewed the contacts as a success, the broader strategy failed. The EU did not lift sanctions. On the contrary, it adopted additional sanctions packages in response to the crisis.

That was the correct response. The EU demonstrated that it would not be blackmailed.

The situation has not completely disappeared. Attempts to cross the EU’s eastern borders from Belarus continue, with numbers fluctuating from month to month. What is striking is how closely these flows appear to correspond with political developments. For example, periods of communication between Belarus and Poland have sometimes coincided with a decline in attempted crossings. This suggests a high degree of control over the movement of migrants and the ability to redirect pressure toward different borders when desired.

What makes the situation especially cynical is that human beings are being used as instruments of political pressure. People have suffered, and some have died along the border. Given the regime’s extensive control over the country, I find it difficult to believe that the appearance of migrants was beyond its control.

We also have evidence that organizations connected to the regime promoted Belarus as a transit route to the EU, helped facilitate visas, and encouraged people to travel there under false expectations. In my view, this amounts to state-enabled human trafficking being used as a tool of political coercion.

TNM: Over the years, the West has tried to support pro-democracy opposition figures in Belarus. Does that possibility still remain?

HL: The Belarusian pro-democracy movement was not “created” by the West or built around a pre-selected leader. It emerged from a domestic political crisis in 2020, when a presidential candidate became a focal point for mass protest and was later forced into exile. Since then, Western support has primarily gone to institutions—independent media, civil society, and democratic representation abroad—rather than shaping leadership itself.

For ordinary people in Belarus, the issue is about basic conditions of life: stability, safety, and the ability to travel, earn, and live without fear. In that sense, the political debate is often less about ideology and more about whether the state can deliver normality and predictability.

Since 2020, Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya has become a central coordinating figure for the democratic movement in exile, recognized internationally and working with a range of political and civil society actors. That role is real, but it exists alongside ongoing internal diversity and disagreement within the broader opposition ecosystem. But what is important is that there is a broad consensus within the Belarusian democratic movement on the end goal: a democratic, independent Belarus with free elections, rule of law, and accountable institutions.

TNM: What are the chances that Russia will try to replace Lukashenka with a more pliant figure?

HL: I don’t think there is anyone in Belarus who is more useful to Russia than Lukashenka. Putin knows who Lukashenka is and how to work with him. Lukashenka maintains control over the economy, the security apparatus, and the political system, and from the Kremlin’s view, he delivers what Russia needs.

I think it’s a myth that we’ve been talking about for decades that Putin is willing to have somebody else. What are the signs of that? Lukashenka meets with Putin more than anyone else and vice versa so there is a connection that exists there. There are no signals that Putin would like to replace him.

Some continue to speculate about Russian pressure on Belarus to send troops into Ukraine. Russia is certainly using Belarusian territory, infrastructure, and military assets to support its war effort. However, there is little evidence that the Kremlin is actively pushing for a large-scale deployment of Belarusian troops to the front.

Both Putin and Lukashenka understand the risks. The Belarusian military lacks recent combat experience and is not configured for sustained offensive operations in Ukraine. More importantly, Belarusian public support for direct participation in the war remains low. Significant combat losses could create domestic tensions inside Belarus.

For that reason, the arrangement that has existed since 2022—Belarus providing territory, logistics, training grounds, and strategic support while avoiding direct combat involvement—has served the interests of both Moscow and Lukashenka. Putin gains access to Belarus without assuming the political costs of Belarusian casualties, while Lukashenka avoids a potentially dangerous domestic backlash.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

TNM: You mentioned the Union State earlier. On the political level, this institution has helped create inextricable military and economic ties between Russia and Belarus. However, that doesn’t reflect how the Belarusian population views this partnership. How has popular Belarusian sentiment toward Russia changed since the start of the Ukraine war?

HL: I will refer both to research and to what I hear from people on the ground. There is also solid public data—for example, Chatham House research—that is widely available and easy to check. What that research consistently shows is that an overwhelming majority of Belarusians do not want their country involved in Russia’s war against Ukraine. One widely cited figure is that around 97% of Belarusians oppose participation. And this is not just the opposition or politically active groups—it also includes people who support Lukashenka or work within the state system. In that sense, this really is not “their war.”

For some Russians, their country is fighting and they may feel patriotic. For people inside Belarus, that’s certainly not the case. That doesn’t mean everyone fully rejects Russia’s narrative—propaganda does have an effect, and some people don’t connect all the dots. But they are a minority.

Despite years of propaganda—especially since 2022, but even since the annexation of Crimea and the Donbas war—that did not change the mentality of Belarusians. They don’t want to go and fight for Russia. We can certainly say that there is a clear understanding that Belarus is and should remain an independent country. Only a very small minority, usually a few percent depending on a survey, would say they would fully support joining Russia.

Where it gets more complicated is what people want instead. A lot of Belarusians will say something like: “We just want to have good relations with everyone.” With Russia, with the EU—ideally both. Of course, in reality that’s not really possible in today’s geopolitical situation, but it reflects something important: a desire to avoid confrontation, isolation, and war.

There is also a kind of realism in how people think about the West. Even if Belarus changed tomorrow, most people understand that EU membership is not something that would happen quickly. So expectations are shaped more by caution than by big political visions.

One more thing you notice in everyday life is how interactions with Russians in Belarus have changed. There are more Russian visitors now, and while Belarusians are generally open and welcoming, it sometimes creates tension in small, everyday ways—around language, behavior, even things like currency or assumptions about the country. For some people, it reinforces the feeling that “we are not the same.” Belarusians increasingly see themselves as separate from Russia. And despite years and decades of propaganda, the core position is consistent: they do not want to be part of this war, and they want Belarus to remain independent.

TNM: There have been recent reports of thousands of Russian troops closing in on or stationed in Belarus. To what extent does this pose the threat of a Russian invasion?

HL: There are Russian troops in Belarus—at least around 2,000, based on current assessments. Could Russia try to occupy Belarus? In theory, yes. But what would that achieve?

Occupying a country that does not want to be part of Russia would be extremely difficult. Russia has not succeeded in doing that in Ukraine. It annexed Crimea, but it has never managed to occupy an entire sovereign country. I do not see how it could do so in Belarus.

Belarus is not a divided country. There is no significant constituency arguing that Belarus should join Russia. Most Belarusians speak Russian, but they also want Belarus to remain an independent state. That distinction is important.

More importantly, Putin does not need to occupy Belarus. He already has a loyal partner in Lukashenka, who maintains control over the country. From the Kremlin’s perspective, Belarus already serves many of Russia’s strategic purposes. It functions as a military staging ground from which Russian forces can threaten or attack Ukraine. It has also been used to help destabilize neighboring EU and NATO countries, whether through the manufactured migration crisis or other forms of hybrid pressure, including incidents involving Lithuanian airspace.

An outright occupation would likely provoke resistance inside Belarus. I am not necessarily referring to military resistance—the Belarusian Army has limited combat-ready capabilities—but other forms of resistance would almost certainly emerge. I do not believe Belarusians would accept such a move quietly. That is why I do not see a Russian occupation as the most likely scenario.

That said, there are deeply concerning developments that should not be overlooked. One is the announced deployment of Russian nuclear weapons on Belarusian territory. This increases Belarus’s vulnerability by making it a potential target in the event of a broader conflict involving NATO or Ukraine.

It also raises a longer-term sovereignty issue. If Russia establishes a permanent nuclear presence in Belarus, removing it would be extraordinarily difficult, even if Belarus were to become democratic and fully independent in the future.

Another example is the planned deployment of Oreshnik missiles in Belarus. These developments demonstrate that Russia does not need to formally occupy Belarus in order to erode its sovereignty. Military integration, dependence in foreign policy, economic ties, and security cooperation already give Moscow substantial influence over the country.

In other words, the greatest threat to Belarusian sovereignty is not necessarily a Russian invasion. It is the gradual expansion of Russian control without the need for formal occupation.

TNM: How can the international community support the pro-democracy movement in Belarus?

HL: Belarus remains under severe repression. Hundreds of political prisoners are still behind bars, independent media have been forced into exile, and civil society organizations have been dismantled inside the country.

At the same time, democratic forces have not disappeared. Independent media continue to reach millions of Belarusians every month, civil society remains active despite enormous pressure, and many Belarusians continue to support democratic change. The democratic movement survives, even under some of the harshest conditions in Europe.

I would highlight three priorities of what can be done to help Belarusians.

First, maintain pressure on the regime. The Belarusian authorities respond to pressure, not goodwill gestures. We can see this today in the ongoing releases of political prisoners, which have often been linked to international pressure and negotiations. Sanctions are not an end in themselves, but they remain an important tool. They should be used strategically and should not be lifted prematurely. While prisoner releases are welcome, repression continues. New arrests are taking place, and the number of newly recognized political prisoners remains comparable to the number of those being released through US mediation. We should keep this in mind.

Second, support independent media and civil society. These organizations continue to reach people inside Belarus and provide access to information that the regime tries to suppress. The demand for independent information remains strong. Yet many Belarusian media outlets and civil society groups are facing growing financial difficulties. The reduction of international assistance and shifting donor priorities have created serious challenges at a time when the need for support is greater than ever. Sustained funding is essential if these organizations are to continue their work.

Third, continue accountability efforts. There are ongoing initiatives to bring Lukashenka and other officials to justice for international crimes. These include investigations related to transnational repression, the forced displacement of people (the ICC launched an investigation), Belarus’s role in Russia’s war against Ukraine, and the transfer of Ukrainian children to Belarusian territory. Democratic countries should continue supporting these efforts.

Accountability matters not only because justice is important, but because it sends a clear message that those responsible for serious abuses will eventually face consequences. If the international community remains focused on these three priorities—pressure, support for democratic institutions, and accountability—it can help contribute to Belarus’s democratic future.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

The Renew Democracy Initiative, publisher of The Next Move, is pleased to join the Institute for the Study of Modern Authoritarianism, publisher of The UnPopulist, as a media partner for the third annual Liberalism for the 21st Century Conference—LibCon 2026—in Washington, DC on July 16 and 17. Click here for more information and to register. Coinciding with America’s 250^th anniversary, the theme of the conference is the Reconstruction Agenda. The conference will assess the damage that authoritarian and demagogic politics have caused to the country’s liberal institutions and propose a path forward to rebuild accountability and confidence in the rule of law. The conference features a stellar lineup, including RDI Vice Chair Linda Chavez, along with Francis Fukuyama, Anne Applebaum, David French, Hong Kong dissident Nathan Law and many more. We’ll be there and so should you.

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Garry Kasparov is the chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

This past Saturday, June 27, I was invited to deliver remarks at the Dubrovnik Forum, a conference on international politics, security, and strategy. I opened a session on modern warfare, the defense industry, and Europe’s strategic choices. In attendance were officials from the governments of many NATO members and other democratic allies.

Here is what I told them:

Thank you. I would like to thank Prime Minister Plenkovic, the Ministry of Foreign and European Affairs, and the other organizers of the Dubrovnik Forum.

I have lived in New York ever since I was forced to leave Russia in 2013, facing imminent arrest. However, I am here as a proud citizen of the Republic of Croatia. We have more than an EU passport in common—we share democratic European values. And because of that, I will always speak of Europe in terms of “we” and “us.”

Standing here, in Croatia, a NATO member, I take no satisfaction from stating: NATO is effectively dead.

I already got in trouble for saying “NATO is dead” at the Halifax Security Forum last year. It doesn’t faze me. But I can see some faces beginning to turn, so allow me to explain what I mean.

NATO—the North Atlantic Treaty Organization—as it was originally conceived is irrelevant.

In 1949, the alliance was established as a bloc of democratic European nations under American protection with one purpose and to fight one war. Not a war in Afghanistan or Libya. This alliance was meant to fight a war to defend the continent from a Russian attack.

Well, Russia has begun its westward aggression. In 2014—expanding that attack in 2022.

Where are the Americans, the supposed guarantors of European security?

Under the Obama administration, they did nothing—actually, worse than nothing, by continuing negotiations with Russia on climate change, the Iran nuclear program, and the Middle East, while largely ignoring Putin’s blatant violation of the international order on European soil. Under the Biden administration, they dragged their feet, providing assistance to Ukraine too little, too late. They lectured Kyiv about “escalation” as Russia dragged Ukraine into an ever more gruesome war.

Now, under the Trump administration, the United States is hostile—arguably an active collaborator with Moscow.

Where are we, the Europeans? We have allowed our muscles to atrophy. The European institutions that lifted the continent out of the ashes of World War II—and enabled a nation like Croatia to prosper after the turmoil of the 1990s—these institutions were built without a serious military component.

Security? The Americans will take care of that! This was always the assumption.

It was only last year that the European Commission finally established a Directorate-General for Defense Industry and Space.

For decades, we prospered—but even as we prospered, our safety was an illusion, paid for by American largesse.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

Now, we see that an alliance designed for collective security is functioning like a protection racket. This is the natural consequence of outsourcing our safety to Washington. We were blind to the isolationist mood rising at both ends of the American political spectrum.

So far, I have only given you bad news. But there is a silver lining, won through the sacrifice of thousands upon thousands of brave Ukrainians. Europe is indeed behind—militarily and technologically.

But Europe has a robust economy and manpower. Europe’s backwardness is the result of a political choice. We can catch up, with Ukraine as the cornerstone of a new European security architecture.

Ukraine is not only defying so-called “expert analysis,” fighting on into the fifth year of a Putin-planned three-day war—a three-day timeline, incidentally, shared by most Western governments. Ukraine is the only nation in Europe that is really preparing for the day after America withdraws. Ukraine is proactively building the post-American security order on the battlefield today. What they are doing is revolutionary.

Ukraine knocks out $50,000 Iranian Shaheds with improvised drones that cost a fraction of that price—far less expensive than American Patriots or even Israeli Iron Dome interceptors. Ukraine is ahead of many nations in integrating artificial intelligence into the battlefield. Ukraine will soon fly Swedish fighter jets in its air force rather than rely entirely upon American models. My country, Croatia, recently made a similar decision, purchasing French Rafales instead of American planes. Ukraine strikes back deep into Russia whether or not the worryworts in Washington give their blessing.

It is a tragedy that Ukrainians have paid a deadly price in order to reverse Europe’s technological and military decline. You can honor their sacrifice by supporting them—and following their example by pulling your weight abroad and innovating at home. It will ultimately be to the benefit of us all: advances in medical and consumer technologies are often downstream of developments in battlefield science.

Consider what Ukraine has accomplished despite the obstacles: Ukrainians only broke free of the Russian-Soviet Empire again in 1991, and their sovereignty has been under brutal attack for a third of its modern independent existence. Europe is wanting for willpower, not resources.

This is the challenge facing Europe and all countries that once counted on the United States for support.

I am joined at this forum by ministers from many such democratic allies: Japan, Germany, France, Italy, Lithuania, Albania, Slovenia, Bulgaria, Portugal, Kosovo, Hungary, North Macedonia… forgive me if I have missed any.

You will return to your capitals and debate the particulars of your foreign and defense policies.

But let these principles be your north star: a commitment to real European collective defense and homegrown technological excellence, the boldness to finally cut the umbilical cord with America, a serious recognition of the fact that Putin’s regime is devoted to perpetual war, and the self-respect to actually stand up and fight for our democratic way of life.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

The Renew Democracy Initiative, publisher of The Next Move, is pleased to join the Institute for the Study of Modern Authoritarianism, publisher of The UnPopulist, as a media partner for the third annual Liberalism for the 21st Century Conference—LibCon 2026—in Washington, DC on July 16 and 17. Click here for more information and to register. Coinciding with America’s 250^th anniversary, the theme of the conference is the Reconstruction Agenda. The conference will assess the damage that authoritarian and demagogic politics have caused to the country’s liberal institutions and propose a path forward to rebuild accountability and confidence in the rule of law. The conference features a stellar lineup, including RDI Vice Chair Linda Chavez, along with Francis Fukuyama, Anne Applebaum, David French, Hong Kong dissident Nathan Law and many more. We’ll be there and so should you.

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Is NATO dead? Find out on our next premium subscriber Zoom call, featuring former NATO Secretary General and Prime Minister of Denmark Anders Fogh Rasmussen. The conversation—exclusively for premium subscribers—will take place this Wednesday, May 27 at 9am ET. For more information and registration, click here.

Issac Luna (Olvera) is a former US Marine Corps officer who fought for the Ukrainian military after the full-scale Russian invasion. He is the author of the book Reckoning Dreams and Fire, a memoir about his experience in Ukraine and other battles. Mr. Luna remains based in Ukraine. Follow him on X.

The American embassy warned of an impending Russian attack against Kyiv, which could include ballistic missiles.

It was about midnight, Sunday, May 24, 2026. My fiancée and I had just finished watching a nature documentary—zebras grazing in the Serengeti, sloths dangling from trees in Costa Rica. We had committed to going to sleep.

Thirty-two minutes later, we heard the dreaded phone alarm that signals an air threat. Something menacing was airborne, coming from Russia or the occupied territories. Too soon to know where it was headed or where it would land.

At about 1:00 a.m., I found out. They were coming to us. The air defense went into full mode. First came the sound of piston engines buzzing overhead. Hundreds of interceptor drones launched to head off the incoming attack. Machine guns opened fire, in case the interceptors failed. Then came a massive blast—an American Patriot or a German IRIS-T (I can almost tell the difference by now).

The cacophony of twenty-first-century warfare filled the sky. My fiancée Mariia and I sat tense. We knew we would not sleep. She put on extra clothes. She fears being pulled from the rubble in too little clothing—a rational and practical fear many Ukrainians have quietly developed.

Then the ground vibrated. Not just the building foundation, but something deeper, almost tectonic. The Patriots missed and something powerful—very powerful—hit.

It was an Oreshnik. It is a terrifying weapon: a hypersonic ballistic missile capable of carrying nuclear warheads. It travels at Mach 10 and separates in the upper atmosphere to unleash six independent warheads, each containing smaller submunitions. It is almost impossible to stop.

For the four million people living under this aerial battle, there is only one primitive means of protection: go underground.

We do not have a shelter in our building, so we move away from the windows and place our faith in probabilities. I have worked out the math before. Suppose this is a major attack: one thousand aerial threats. Ninety percent get intercepted. One hundred get through. Assume each kills ten people—one thousand dead. Kyiv has roughly four million residents. That gives you a one-in-four-thousand chance. About 0.025 percent.

Many Ukrainians have done some version of this calculation, even if only subconsciously. For a former military officer, the helplessness is devastating. So we try to sleep through the onslaught.

At 10:00am, neither of us knew how much we had slept, if at all. Mariia and I looked at each other, unsure if it was all a nightmare. It was—a living nightmare that has now played out for more than 1,550 days.

When I checked the news, the scale of the damage was devastating. Six hundred Shahed drones, thirty-three ballistic missiles, and fifty-seven cruise missiles. Data gathered by The New York Times suggests this was the largest Russian attack—not just on Kyiv, but anywhere in Ukraine—since December 2024.

Learn more about the Renew Democracy Initiative’s work in Ukraine:

A popular market near us—normally packed with thousands of shoppers on a Sunday morning—was reduced to a heap of twisted steel and ash. Completely destroyed. The recently reopened Chernobyl Museum suffered a collapsed roof, and artifacts that had survived one disaster 40 years ago did not survive this one. One cruise missile, which ignites a booster rocket during its final descent to evade interception, crashed through the base of a high-rise building, carving a massive hole into the underground parking structure.

A water supply station, the Institute for Religious Studies, the Podil Opera Theatre, and the Kyiv School of Economics—all civilian sites—were damaged. More than one hundred people were wounded, but it was still too early to know how many will end up dead.

Living in a war zone for four years, I see both the worst of humanity, and the best of humanity, side by side. Air defense brigades—many composed of former college students, teachers, and retirees—intercepted 92% of drones and 60%of missiles. They validated my estimate of survivability. Rescue workers, poorly paid and fully aware that secondary strikes are possible, rummaged through rubble searching for survivors, including pets.

Yevhen, is a slim man in his early forties. He had sold his home to open a café in Kyiv. The café had opened for business the day before. Overnight, it was heavily damaged. But because some of his machines and coffee supplies survived, he reopened, handing out free coffee through shattered windows.

On the military front, Russia has failed to make meaningful progress.

During Russia’s attempt to take Kupiansk in Kharkiv Oblast, one Ukrainian website quipped: “The three-toed sloth sleeps eighteen hours a day, defecates once a week, and is still making better time than the [Russian[ 11th Army Corps.”

The sloth, according to the site, would have advanced 74 %faster and at a far lower cost. Over 35,000 Russian personnel were reportedly killed or severely wounded during April, the deadliest month on record, according to Ukraine’s Ministry of Defense.

In Moscow, where Putin had banked on public support and minimal disruption to daily life, residents can no longer dismiss the war as a distant “special military operation.” Drone attacks are increasingly common. Military-linked industrial facilities have been hit. Refineries and oil terminals far from the Ukrainian border have also reportedly been targeted. The road connecting Russia to Crimea along the Sea of Azov has increasingly become a highway of death, where Ukrainian drones strike military logistics almost at will.

Unable to produce a decisive victory on the battlefield, Putin has increasingly resorted to the one tactic he can always sell to his public as a victory: terrorism. Hence Sunday’s attack.

These attacks were enabled by a recent financial windfall. The war in Iran pushed oil prices upward, while Trump recently lifted sanctions on Russian oil, giving Putin a lifeline and replenishing the Russian treasury with at least a billion dollars a day.

The American government, through its embassy in Ukraine, warned of the attack. But it made no effort to use its considerable leverage over Russia to help prevent it, even though it could have.

Please consider upgrading to a premium subscription. Your support advances the work of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including delivering life-saving humanitarian assistance to frontline communities in Ukraine. To learn more about RDI’s work in Ukraine, click here.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Is NATO dead? Find out on our next premium subscriber Zoom call, featuring former NATO Secretary General and Prime Minister of Denmark Anders Fogh Rasmussen. The conversation—exclusively for premium subscribers—will take place on Wednesday, May 27 at 9am ET. For more information and registration, click here.

Garry Kasparov is the founder and chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

Last Thursday, I received the Friend of Ukraine Award at the Tryzub Awards Gala in Toronto. Here are my remarks from that evening:

Good evening.

To begin with, I’d like to thank our hosts, the Tryzub Gala Foundation, for their invitation, and for this prestigious award.

Dyakuyu.

Of course, the real heroes are the men and women of Ukraine, who are fighting every day and every night, not only for their nation, but for the entire Free World.

The war in Ukraine is like chess: it’s black and white. Anyone who can’t tell you who is good and who is evil there is willfully blind.

But unlike in chess, there can be no tie in this war. It is a contest of good versus evil, and you do not accommodate evil—even halfway.

This war demands moral clarity, not politically correct slogans cooked up by a committee. So let me say, loudly and clearly enough that they can hear me from across Lake Ontario:

Ukraine. Must. Win.

And there’s another part to it—something that even the most pro-Ukrainian politicians in Ottawa, Washington, and Brussels aren’t comfortable saying.

Russia. Must. Lose.

The Russian. Empire. Must. Fall.

Under the banner of the organization I founded in 2016, the Free Russia Forum, it is written: Victory for Ukraine, freedom for Russia. And it must happen in that order. Anyone who wants to seriously oppose Vladimir Putin must adopt that as their north star, and also declare, without stuttering: Crimea is Ukraine.

But this war is not just Putin’s war. It is Russia’s war. Nothing less than the Ukrainian flag flying over Sevastopol will extinguish the imperial virus that, for centuries, has plagued Russia and brought ruin to its neighbors.

So I will repeat: The Russian Empire must fall.

But saying all of this is the easy part. The more difficult challenge is one of strategy. Looking at the Russian invasion of Ukraine, you must survey the entire board, not just individual pieces.

The state of play is indeed complicated, especially from where we sit here in Toronto.

For decades, Canada’s strategy was based upon its status as—let us be blunt—a junior partner of the United States of America. You prospered under the protection of a benevolent giant to the south.

Well, as your prime minister noted in Davos just a few months ago, things are certainly different now.

The giant is not so benevolent anymore. The giant is orange in the face, prone to mood swings, and curiously aligned with the Russian way of thinking… and you’re starting to get flashbacks to 1812.

The answer to all of this is not to trade your role as a subordinate of one great power for another, swapping your arrangement with the US for, god forbid, China—one of Russia’s leading accomplices in its genocidal devastation of Ukraine.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

The responsibility you shoulder now is to lead—as an equal partner with your allies across the Atlantic, who are navigating a similar challenge too.

For inspiration, you must look to your kin in Ukraine.

There is actually an interesting parallel in the relationship between Russia and Ukraine, on the one hand, and the US and Canada, on the other.

For centuries, Ukraine was chained to the Russian and Soviet empires. Because of this history of Kremlin colonialism, Ukraine shared many cultural, linguistic, political, and economic ties with Russia.

While Canada’s ties with the US weren’t forced upon you, you too share a common heritage with a larger neighbor, a natural choice guided by shared history and geography.

For centuries, Ukraine lived under Russia’s shadow, as you lived under America’s.

Yet, since 1991, Ukraine has proved that history and geography are not destiny. And since that fateful day in February 2022, Ukraine has been the spiritual leader of the Free World.

While Boris Yeltsin was shelling the Russian parliament and launching a genocidal war in Chechnya, Ukrainians held free elections and a peaceful transfer of power.

While Vladimir Putin was murdering political opponents, Ukrainians were doing the hard work of building democracy.

While Russia slid into the embrace of China and other authoritarian states, the Ukrainian people braved bullets and batons on the maidan and demanded their nation turn West.

And when Russia invaded Ukraine solely with the aim of destroying, Ukraine continued to build. Ukraine built a modern military powerhouse, raised the strongest army in Europe and became an innovator in drone warfare.

My organization, the Renew Democracy Initiative, has been delivering life-saving aid to Ukraine since day one of the full-scale invasion—$15 million worth in the last four years. Just this spring, RDI led our second delegation to Ukraine—going to the frontlines in Kharkiv.

My colleagues also saw firsthand how Ukraine is punching above its weight. They met with the commander of Ukraine’s most effective drone unit. If the president of the United States were actually a successful businessman, he might take note of the fact that Ukraine is inflicting eleven-figure damages on Russian targets using UAVs that cost just a few thousand dollars each.

The lesson Ukrainians have for all of you in this room is that global leadership is not reserved for empires. Your past… your geography… these are not excuses to abdicate your responsibility as a founding member of the democratic alliance.

If the people of Ukraine, just 35 years after the fall of the USSR, with missiles, and drones, and rockets raining down upon them, abandoned by the US administration, if the people of Ukraine can lead—then Europe must lead, and your gameplan must be for Canada to lead too.

It would have been nice if Canada and the world’s other democracies had time to grow into this leadership role, gradually, without having that role violently thrust upon them by buffoons like Donald Trump and JD Vance. But… how does the serenity prayer go? “Give me the grace to accept what I can’t change, and the courage to change what I can.”

Well, here we are. Time to muster that courage.

Slava Ukraini.

P.S. While I was in Toronto, I had the opportunity to meet Canadian-American journalist and past Tryzub awardee Diane Francis. She recently gave a great interview about where things stand between Moscow and Kyiv. I encourage you to give it a watch:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

More from The Next Move:

Please consider upgrading to a premium subscription. Your support drives the Renew Democracy Initiative’s work, including life-saving aid to Ukraine, dissident-led civic education, and driving the conversation here on The Next Move.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Garry Kasparov is the founder and chairman of the Renew Democracy Initiative, which publishes The Next Move.

Uriel Epshtein is the CEO of the Renew Democracy Initiative.

Things aren’t looking great for Vladimir Putin. The war in Ukraine isn’t going well. He’s afraid of coups and drone strikes. It’s not even safe for his personal chefs and photographers to ride the Moscow Metro.

The Russian dictator is apparently confining himself for extended periods in various bunkers.

This is all according to a leaked European intelligence dossier whose contents were reported by CNN and other outlets earlier today.

It’s not exactly the news that anyone, least of all Putin, expected to read when Russia launched its “three-day special military operation”!

(You might be asking: Were the Russians seriously expecting Ukraine to just absorb a genocidal war? And the answer is apparently, yes—that’s what happens when a dictator surrounds himself with sycophants who only tell him what he wants to hear.)

Is Putin actually sheltering in the führerbunker? Eh. Who can say?

Instead of debating rumors and leaks, let’s focus on what we know for certain:

First, the Ukrainian military has the capacity to threaten the Russian aggressors on Russian soil.

In one operation, Ukrainian drones shut down all four of Moscow’s international airports.

A few days ago, another drone struck a swanky Moscow neighborhood home to Kremlin elites.

And in recent months, unmanned aerial vehicles have been inflicting punishing strikes on oil facilities in Russia. These Ukrainian operations are the only thing preventing the Kremlin from taking full advantage of the spike in oil prices amid Donald Trump’s war in Iran. These refineries are also facilities owned by Russian businessmen who are not happy that Putin put their assets in the line of fire.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest RDI podcast

Uriel has witnessed Ukraine’s impressive UAV capabilities firsthand. Just six weeks back, our organization, the Renew Democracy Initiative, led a delegation to Ukraine, where the group met with the deputy commander of the Ukrainian Air Force, an entrepreneur who built the country’s most effective drone unit while working out of a garage.

Some of the UAVs in Kyiv’s arsenal cost as little as $1,000 to produce, while dishing out billions in damage to Russian infrastructure—and yielding the most priceless victory of all, shattering Russians’ sense of imperial invincibility.

Victory Day—the regime’s most flamboyant display of martial prowess—is just 96 hours away. Back in the USSR, a seemingly endless cascade of Red Army soldiers, armor, and artillery would stream past the Kremlin walls every May 9. Since coming to power nearly three decades ago, Putin has made the parade a centerpiece of a propaganda campaign that leans hard on Soviet nostalgia.

Last year, Russia had to rein in the festivities due to Ukraine’s success in penetrating the Russian capital’s defenses. This year, the tanks and the missiles will be conspicuously absent—no need to roll high-profile military targets out into the open. Indeed, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has said he won’t rule out hitting Red Square.

A responsible leader would probably cancel the event altogether. Putin won’t—doing so would mean conceding military defeat. He knows that when Russia loses a war, the regime comes down too: remember 1905, 1917, and 1989.

So Putin is stuck: He can’t win the war. He can’t end the war. In the meantime, the grumbling among Russia’s once-loyal military bloggers will only grow louder. Things that would once earn a long prison sentence are now said on Russian social media with increasing candor.

Here’s another thing we can say with confidence: The excuses for not supporting Ukraine don’t hold up.

In last year’s infamous Oval Office showdown, Donald Trump told Zelenskyy that the Ukrainians “don’t have the cards.” That’s clearly been disproven through Ukraine’s ability to reach deep into the heart of the Russian Federation (and the fact that it is the Trump administration that now turns to Kyiv for help with fighting Iran).

It looks like Ukraine still has some cards to play after all.

As Ukraine presses the advantage, the excuses will change. We’ll hear more of the tired slander that Ukraine doesn’t want peace. To the contrary, peace remains very much possible. But peace will only come when Ukraine wins, Russia loses, and Putin falls.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

A note from Garry Kasparov: Celebrate one year of The Next Move and save 30% when you upgrade to join our premium subscriber community and get invitations to exclusive Zoom conversations, early access to podcasts, and other benefits! Upgrade now and don’t miss our next premium subscriber-exclusive call where I’ll be joined by former White House attorney Ty Cobb and RDI CEO Uriel Epshtein—coming up on Thursday, April 30 at 5pm ET/2pm PT. Click here to register.

Issac Luna (Olvera) is a former US Marine Corps officer who fought for the Ukrainian military after the full-scale Russian invasion. He is the author of the book Reckoning Dreams and Fire, a memoir about his experience in Ukraine and other battles. Mr. Luna remains based in Ukraine. Follow him on X.

It was around this time in the spring of 2022 when the Russian army retreated in defeat from the outskirts of Kyiv.

Media outlets around the world rejoiced: “Irpin, Bucha, liberated.” I was there, as a volunteer in the Ukrainian army, but around me, no one celebrated. We suspected Putin’s troops might regroup and counterattack.

At the start of that year, I had been a business consultant in Houston, Texas. When Russia invaded Ukraine, I was outraged and wanted to help. Having been an officer in the US Marines, I thought my skills could be useful on the ground. So, on day four of the invasion, I quit my job and came to fight in Ukraine. I thought I might contribute as a planner or advisor, given my background. Instead, I joined as an ordinary rifleman—and sometimes as a rocket man—with no rank, no pay, and lots of unknowns.

On my first mission, we occupied an empty residential tower across from the State Tax University, an elegant century-old building, in Irpin, a suburb of Kyiv. The street between us and the university was the battle line. Ukrainian forces controlled the south sides; the north was under Russian occupation—part of Irpin, and another suburb called Bucha. From our tower, we looked for Russian positions and called in artillery strikes.

On March 28, the Russians retreated from Irpin but remained in Bucha. We pushed forward to the edge of Irpin, into positions that Russians had just abandoned. Apartments had been looted—drawers emptied, closets overturned.

In the nearby forest, we found dead civilians, killed by artillery—six of them, some still wearing pajamas. We buried them. By then, Russians were also retreating from Bucha. On their way out, they indiscriminately fired more artillery. One barrage battered our position. We evacuated when the roof caught fire and collapsed. After a few days, I accepted that the Russians were not coming back, but the sense of victory was short-lived.

At the start of the occupation, the 76th Guards Air Assault Division, an elite Russian unit, established a headquarters at 144 Yablunska (Apple) Street, a kilometer behind the university.

After the Russian withdrawal, journalists and investigators entered the area. What had been a quiet, affluent suburb was now a crime scene. CCTV footage from a home on Apple Street showed Russian soldiers leading civilians at gunpoint toward the headquarters compound. It was the last time most of them were seen alive. Investigators found bodies scattered in the street. Others were found in basements with their hands bound, bearing signs of torture prior to execution. Many women reported being raped in homes that Russians had converted into barracks. These were not cases of collateral damage or victims of chaos; they were proof of a systematic terror campaign.

Volunteers, state investigators, victims, and witnesses identified many of the soldiers responsible for these crimes. They were members of units working under the command of the 76th Air Assault Division or adjacent to it. The most prominent units involved were the 234th and 237th Air Assault Regiments, the 64th Motor Rifle Brigade, and the 155th Marine Brigade. It has been four years since the massacres. Where are the perpetrators?

After their defeat outside Kyiv, those Russian units relocated to other parts of Ukraine, where they deployed the same vicious tactics. Yet while they escaped Bucha, they did not evade justice altogether—not all of them.

Igor Zharov and Aleksey Afonin, both lieutenant colonels in the 234th Regiment, were killed sometime in 2022, according to obituaries. Their commander, Colonel Artyom Gorodilov, is in prison, though not for the right reasons. In 2024, he was arrested in Russia—not for war crimes, but for corruption.

One particularly memorable update came through in July of last year. Mikhail Gudkov was a Russian officer at the center of events on Apple Street.

As a colonel, Gudkov commanded Russia’s 155th Marine Brigade in the Kyiv suburbs. He had advanced far and fast in his military career since then. By 2025, he was a major general and deputy commander of the entire Russian Navy. In July 2025, Ukrainian forces struck a headquarters inside the Kursk region of Russia. Gudkov, along with other senior officers, was killed.

For those of us who were there in Bucha and Irpin, there is no moral ambiguity in this outcome. His death, and those of his soldiers, was not a tragedy, but a consequence. We saw what was left behind. We walked through homes that had been stripped bare. We found civilians in the forest. We learned what happened on Apple Street. And then we watched the same units show up somewhere else and do it again. Whether a man like Gudkov personally ordered a specific execution or not does not change the fact that he was part of a criminal enterprise that perpetrated it. So, when news comes that one of those commanders is dead, my reaction is not complicated—it’s satisfaction, even glee.

Yet the death of Russian war criminals is also not closure. Nothing can provide that. Nothing can undo what happened. But it is at least imperfect justice.

ICYMI: Tune in to the latest episode of the Older/Wiser Podcast

In February 2023, Ukrainian troops captured a group of 17 soldiers in Luhansk province in Donbas. Among them was Nikolai Kartashev. He was not a high-ranking officer, but an ordinary soldier tied to the 234th during the occupation of Bucha. He confessed to killing civilians under orders as well as witnessing torture and the rape of a woman in a cellar. He identified co-perpetrators and commanders, yet he expressed no remorse and said he wanted to return to war. He is still in prison.

It is safe to say that many, maybe most, of the foot soldiers who perpetrated these crimes are dead. Many literally disappeared. They ended up blown apart, their remains shredded, unidentified and untraceable in the field or a morgue. Both the 155th Marine Brigade and the 237th Air Assault Regiment were destroyed in the subsequent months of the war.

In 2023, the 155th Brigade fought in the battle of Vuhledar, an absolute meat grinder. Columns of the 155th drove into minefields and kill zones. Dozens of vehicles were hit, and when the survivors bunched up, they were finished by Ukrainian artillery. More than 130 armored vehicles were destroyed in a single week, including 36 tanks. During the worst of it, between 150–300 marines reportedly died daily. The entire brigade was wiped out. Then it reconstituted and was destroyed again. And then again. This cycle of annihilation was repeated as many as eight times.

The 237th Assault Regiment left Bucha severely degraded, then relocated and experienced the same cycle as the 155th: it relocated, took staggering losses, reformed, and was destroyed again. By mid to late 2022, six months after Bucha, open-source analysts reported that the 237th effectively no longer existed. An entire criminal organization, wiped out.

The individual acts of Russian soldiers—executions, torture, rape—add to the list of charges, but they are not required to establish guilt. The war itself is a crime, beginning with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Everything that followed—Bucha, Irpin, Mariupol, Kherson—flows from that decision. Everyone who crossed that border as part of the invasion is guilty, as are those who commanded it—especially Putin. They are all criminals. In the countries where most people are reading this, accountability would come through courts. In this war, Ukrainians have no hope of such an outcome, and they do not wait for it. Russia will never persecute its war criminals, for Russian leaders are such criminals. Thus, for the criminals of Bucha, justice comes not by gavel, but by gun.

Give a gift subscription

More from The Next Move:

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Editor’s Note: The Renew Democracy Initiative—publisher of The Next Move—is in Ukraine! We’ll be sharing daily dispatches from our delegation. Premium subscribers will receive each Ukraine Dispatch 24 hours before anyone else. Be the first to get on-the-ground news from the frontlines of freedom by upgrading to join our premium subscriber community today! All proceeds go to support the work of the Renew Democracy Initiative, including humanitarian assistance to communities in Ukraine.

I got into an argument with a congressman last week (this is normal for me these days).

The representative in question is Don Bacon, a Republican serving Nebraska’s second district in the House. He’ll be retiring after the midterms.

Bacon is a rarity in the modern GOP—a sincere supporter of Ukraine’s fight against Russian aggression. He’s also one of the few who seems to actually want to carry on the example set by President Ronald Reagan.

Yet sincerity is no substitute for action, and this is where he and I came to blows.

Read more