Peace cannot be built through uninterrupted rearmament or by forcing one side into capitulation.

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This is the first part of Mats Alexandersson’s series on war, peace, and security. The next three parts will be published during September and October on the Clarté blog.

For a long time, the United States has united economic, financial, military, and political power to secure a U.S.-centered capitalist world order. This has often been legitimized with what has been called liberal hegemony: a rhetoric in which democracy, individual rights, market economy, and international rules are presented as universal norms. But in practice, these principles have repeatedly been subordinated to the demand to preserve American supremacy and prevent rival great powers from dominating strategic regions.

What has come to be called the rules-based world order has therefore also functioned as a self-image and a language of power. The United States has ascribed to itself a special historical task: to guarantee stability, open markets, and security in the world economy. This belief in an American superiority with a special historical task has become a kind of meta-ideology. Behind this universalism, however, a tangible class and power interest has operated, in which the American state’s geopolitical role has ultimately served the expansion and security of capital.

Two figures clearly demonstrate this line. Henry Kissinger made American realpolitik visible in its most brutal form. In Chile, the United States helped undermine Salvador Allende’s democratically elected government and subsequently supported Pinochet’s dictatorship. The same logic recurred in Cambodia, East Timor, and support for Pakistan’s military regime: democracy and human life had to give way to geopolitical control.

When Zbigniew Brzezinski in The Grand Chessboard in 1997 sophisticatedly formulated that no rival must be allowed to dominate Eurasia, this practice became an explicit doctrine.1 The line from Kissinger to Brzezinski is therefore clear: from secret intervention to open strategy for global supremacy. It is in this development that today’s bloc formation, war economy, and growing risk of great-power war must be understood.

The painting “Die Namenlosen” (1916) by the Austrian painter Albin Egger-Lienz.
Why Eurasia is gaining additional significance

Today, Secretary of State Marco Rubio constitutes a central node in the U.S. foreign and security policy apparatus, where the White House, the Pentagon, intelligence services, NATO, and financial policy bodies cooperate. At the same time, the World environment is increasingly shaped by the technology and defense industry: AI, cloud, satellite, semiconductor, and weapons companies influence the technology of war, information flows, and investments. American hegemony therefore appears not only as state exercise of power, but as an intertwined military, digital, and financial system.

On Brzezinski’s map, Europe was never peripheral. In The Grand Chessboard, Eurasia is described as the decisive geopolitical playing field, and Europe as the United States’ most important bridgehead on the continent. An integrated Europe, bound to the United States through the transatlantic link and NATO, would strengthen American influence in western Eurasia. Europe therefore appears less as an independent power pole than as a strategic platform in a U.S.-led order.

This logic becomes clearest in Brzezinski’s view of Russia and Ukraine. He argued that Russia’s most important geostrategic option lay in a Western orientation, but on terms that did not make the country an equal power pole. Ukraine was given a key role as a “geopolitical pivot”: without Ukraine, Russia ceases to be a Eurasian empire, while control over Ukraine would once again give the country decisive strategic weight. Here the limitation of the great-power perspective is also visible: Ukraine has been reduced to a piece in a larger power game, despite its own political agency and right to self-determination.

Brzezinski advocated a geopolitical pluralism in Eurasia, that is, an order in which no single power may dominate the entire continent. In practice, this meant that the United States should support regional counterweights, alliances, and independent states in order to limit both a revanchist Russia and a rising China. That model can be interpreted as a strategy for balance of power, but also as a manual for playing regional actors against one another in order to preserve American supremacy.

The same approach characterized Brzezinski’s analysis of Central Asia and the Caucasus, which he described as the “Eurasian Balkans”: an area where energy, transport routes, weak states, and ethnic conflicts make the region an object of great-power rivalry. The region thus becomes primarily of strategic value to external powers, not through the local societies’ own goals. Superpower thinking turns smaller countries into objects of geopolitics rather than equal political subjects.

There is rearmament for war

The historical retrospective is needed to understand today’s situation. The war in Ukraine, Europe’s rearmament, and the growing fear of a Russian conflict with NATO cannot be explained solely as the consequence of an isolated conflict. They must also be seen against the background of the U.S.-led security order that emerged after the Cold War — an order whose goal has been to preserve American dominance in Eurasia. Today, this policy has had contradictory consequences: Russia, China, and Iran have moved closer to one another, Europe’s room for maneuver has been limited, and the risk of great-power conflict has increased.

Brzezinski’s book formulated this strategy unusually openly. The United States was to prevent a rival power or coalition from gathering sufficient strength to dominate Eurasia. This meant limiting a resurrected Russia, preventing China from becoming an equal competitor, and keeping Europe politically and militarily tied to the United States. In this perspective, NATO is not only a defense alliance, but also a tool for American power projection in Europe and its neighborhood.

The Eurasian counterweight

Cooperation between China, Russia, and Iran is than a temporary reaction to sanctions and individual wars. China contributes industry, capital, and market; Russia contributes energy, raw materials, military capability, and geographical depth; Iran contributes regional weight and a strategic location. Their interests are not identical, and the cooperation contains clear contradictions. But the relationship between China and Russia has acquired a material foundation that makes it durable than many Western assessments previously assumed.

Here lies an ironic consequence. A policy intended to prevent a Eurasian counterweight may have helped create it. At the same time, the United States faces its own economic tensions: large budget deficits, growing national debt, and high interest rates increase vulnerability. The dollar’s status as a reserve currency continues to provide room for maneuver, but does not eliminate the risk of a crisis of confidence. The cost of such a crisis would likely be passed on to ordinary wage earners through inflation, cutbacks, and deteriorating public services.

Europe’s dilemma

Economist Jeffrey Sachs has argued that Europe has historically had significant economic complementarity with Russia: European industry and technology could be linked to Russian energy, raw materials, and market. According to Sachs, sanctions, conflict policy, and dependence on the United States have broken this possibility and weakened Europe’s strategic independence.2

That assessment is disputed, not least because Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has drastically changed the conditions for economic cooperation. But it raises a necessary question: Can Europe formulate its own security policy, or is the continent reduced to an arena for other powers’ conflict? Sachs advocates direct diplomacy with Moscow, a clearer separation between EU foreign policy and NATO, and a European defense that is independent and less dependent on the United States.

The risk of war

The acute danger is escalation. There is no simple or risk-free path to a military defeat for Russia, but policy continues to sharpen the confrontation. If the goal slides from Ukraine’s defense to a lasting weakening or subjugation of Russia, the risk increases that the proxy war turns into a direct conflict between nuclear powers.

Peace cannot be built through uninterrupted rearmament or by forcing one side into capitulation. A sustainable peace requires diplomacy, recognized security interests, and an international order in which no great power is given the right to dominate others. Public opinion in Europe and the United States can become decisive: when the costs of the arms race, social cutbacks, and the risk of war become clear, pressure can grow for a different course.