International Institute for Middle East and Balkan Studies (IFIMES)[1] from Ljubljana, Slovenia, regularly analyses developments in the Middle East, the Balkans, and around the world. In the text entitled “Hitting Moscow – between strategic desperation and balance by force”, Dr. Cătălin Balog, an analyst and trainer with extensive experience in intelligence, information security, and strategic communication, explores whether peace can be maintained without resorting to force, offering a layered analysis of global responses, European ambivalence, non-Western opportunism, and Romania’s insecurity.
A short dialogue, but full of geopolitical meaning that seems to mark the beginning of a new strategic era. Beyond the retorts attributed to Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky, a fundamental question about the nature of global balance looms: can peace still be preserved without the assumption of force? The article proposes a layered analysis of this dilemma, exploring the responses of America, Russia and China, Europe's ambivalence, the opportunism of the non-Western world and Romania's insecure position – caught between loyalty and exposure. A lucid x-ray of a world in which neutrality becomes fiction, and war, a test of political will.
“– Can you hit Moscow?”
“– Absolutely!”
An exchange of lines, apparently short, but symbolically charged enough to rewrite the paradigm of a conflict that has become in the meantime the most brutal expression of the confrontation between worlds. When US President Donald Trump, in a private conversation with his Ukrainian counterpart, Volodymyr Zelensky, asked this question, and the answer came without hesitation, the echo was not a rhetorical one, but a deeply strategic, geopolitical and doctrinal one.
The world has thus stepped into a new stage of the war in Ukraine – a stage in which geographical, moral and diplomatic limits are simultaneously tested, pushed and reinterpreted. And the signal of this transition does not come from an international alliance or a Euro-Atlantic consensus, but from the unilateral initiative of a leader who, paradoxically, seems to be counting on escalation to force peace.
This brutal, almost Darwinian transformation of the logic of conflict reconfigures not only the eastern front of Europe, but also the reference system of power in contemporary international relations.
The question posed by Donald Trump was neither accidental nor rhetorical. It reflects a shift in strategic order that goes beyond the tired frameworks of diplomatic negotiations and economic sanctions lacking real coercive effect. When a leader explicitly asks if his partner can strike Moscow, this gesture implies the symbolic investiture of the ally with a form of strategic parity, the sending of a clear message to the adversary that there is no longer a safe space in the logic of deterrence and, at the same time, the positioning of the conflict in a framework of co-determination of peace through the credible use of force, not through illusory compromises.
Zelensky's trenchant answer – “Absolutely!” – is not just an expression of political enthusiasm, but a declaration of operational readiness and a conscious assumption that the pre-emptive strike or response is no longer a strategic taboo, even if it could mean escalating to a conventional conflict of proportions or, in the extreme scenario, to an asymmetric confrontation with nuclear potential.
This line of thought and action is no longer exclusively about the war in Ukraine, but redefines the world's relationship with the idea of risk taken, with the notion of political victory and with the acceptable parameters of a balance achieved through a credible threat.
In his second presidential term, Donald Trump seems to be definitively abandoning the mask of isolationism with which he flirted in his first-term speech and to embrace a doctrine of direct strategic pressure, articulated in a frontal, almost cynical manner. This paradigm shift is essentially not a doctrinal novelty, but rather a radicalized revival of the principle known as “escalate to de-escalate” – an approach in which the ultimate threat is deliberately used as a means of forcing negotiation from a position of strength.
The logic of this strategy is simple, but potentially devastating: escalation becomes not only acceptable, but necessary to demonstrate to the adversary that an all-out confrontation is more dangerous than a compromise. At the same time, the message is twofold: on the one hand, to Moscow – that the red lines of the Cold War are no longer valid; on the other hand, to the traditional allies in NATO and the EU – that the time for moral equivocations and formal commitments has expired, being replaced by a decision-making requirement that involves assuming political, financial and military risk.
In this equation, the military support provided to Ukraine no longer has the character of fraternal aid invoked in the Euro-Atlantic discourse, but becomes a bargaining chip in a broader game of repositioning the United States as a dominant global actor that offers protection and weaponry not out of altruism, but in exchange for the geopolitical realignment of allies and the recognition of American supremacy in the post-2022 security architecture. It is a form of coercive leadership that targets not only enemies, but also partners – especially those who are indecisive, reluctant or nostalgic for the liberal multilateral order.
The meeting between President Donald Trump and the new NATO Secretary General, Mark Rutte, marked a moment of doctrinal clarification, but also of institutional repositioning of the North Atlantic Alliance. Under the direct impetus of Washington, NATO seems to be transforming from a political-military construction based on collective values and defensive deterrence into a transnational mechanism of strategic armament, operated in the logic of a contractual partnership, in which member states contribute resources, and the United States provides the means of coercion.
This realignment is doubled by two key initiatives, explicitly promoted by the Trump administration. The first is the formalization of a new financial commitment from European countries that commit to contribute up to 5% of national GDP to defense – a symbolic threshold that signals not only the strengthening of national military capabilities, but also the recognition of the dominant position of the US within the alliance. The second, more pressing initiative involves the delivery of US long-range weapons to Ukraine as part of a package of indirect coercive measures against Russia, with a 50-day window to start peace talks – a deadline accompanied by the threat of 100% US tariffs on Russian exports to grey markets.
In this new configuration, NATO is no longer a defensive alliance in the classic sense of the term, but a geopolitical mobilization interface through which the economic power of Europe and the military force of the US converge in support of a strategy of total pressure on Russia. Under the symbolic leadership of Rutte, but in the direction set by Trump, the Alliance becomes a platform for arming – and not just for arming – that is, not just a mechanism for equipping weapons, but an active structure for tensioning, operationalizing and projecting force in the logic of collective coercion.
More than a simple adaptation to the context of the war in Ukraine, this evolution marks the rebirth of a unipolar American geopolitical doctrine, in which alliances are useful to the extent that they serve the American purpose of controlling, channeling and redistributing strategic risk. Europe is encouraged to pay, arm itself and participate, but not to decide. Russia is forced to choose between negotiated capitulation and total economic and military confrontation, and NATO becomes, from the guarantor of balance, the administrator of pressure.
Any public or informal signal sent by President Trump in the sense of a possible strike on Moscow forces the Kremlin to an immediate strategic reaction. However, the Russia of 2025 is no longer a superpower that can act freely in the bipolar logic of the Cold War, but rather an oversized, but operationally vulnerable military actor, forced to calibrate its responses according to internal constraints, regional balance and the capacity to absorb external shocks.
The most likely scenario is that of intensified attacks on Ukrainian critical infrastructure, especially in the western areas where shipments and warehouses of new Western weapons systems are anticipated. Strikes on railway lines, energy hubs, logistics centers or strategic communications will be resumed in an aggressive but conventional manner, with the aim of weakening Ukraine's ability to react without exceeding the threshold that would justify a direct response from NATO.
A second plausible direction is hybrid escalation in the border areas of NATO member states, through actions that remain below the trigger level of Article 5. This can include cyber incursions into energy and logistics networks in Romania, Poland or the Baltic countries, incidents with “lost” drones or missiles, accompanied by ambiguous statements, as well as boosting tensions through controlled migration channels or proxy actors in the region. Such moves do not imply an immediate risk of open conflict, but they can destabilise public perception and generate pressure on Eastern European governments.
Symbolically, Russia will continue to use the nuclear registry to intimidate, without resorting to the actual use of tactical weapons. The escalation will be declarative in this case: the raising of the alert level, the visible movement of tactical warheads in areas such as Kaliningrad or the Black Sea, as well as the reactivation of the strategic discourse of the post-Crimean period. These signals are meant to deter Western initiatives rather than prepare for an actual attack.
In terms of information warfare, the Kremlin can try to tense the situation in the regions of Ukraine inhabited by ethnic minorities – including the Romanian one – by circulating accusations of persecution or cultural cleansing, in order to justify indirect interventions under humanitarian pretexts. Added to this are the possible targeted attacks on political and military decision-making centers in Ukraine – attacks, precision strikes or destabilization campaigns, meant to cause decision-making chaos and compromise the coordination capacity of the Ukrainian front.
On the other hand, extreme scenarios – such as a tactical nuclear strike on Ukraine, a frontal attack on a NATO state or a ground invasion of a third country such as the Republic of Moldova – are unlikely at this time. They would entail immense costs and risks that are impossible to control for the Kremlin regime, which, despite its aggressive rhetoric, still operates within a framework of strategic self-preservation.
In conclusion, Russia no longer fully controls the escalation process, but retains its ability to manipulate perceptions, maintain fear, erode the morale of allies, and distort the global narrative. His response will most likely be indirect, compounded, calculated—a mixture of conventional force, deliberate ambiguity, and symbolic intimidation.
Faced with the real possibility that Ukraine will be authorized to strike strategic targets inside the Russian Federation, Europe is proving to be deeply divided – not only in terms of political positions or military weight, but especially in its ability to formulate a coherent and assumed strategy. Beyond declarative solidarity and financial support, the European continent is caught between two forms of fear: the fear of provoking an irreversible escalation and the fear of doing nothing, leaving Russia to dictate the final terms of the conflict.
In Western Europe, the main capitals – Paris, Berlin, Rome – show systemic restraint, born both from internal electoral calculations and from historical reflexes to avoid direct confrontations. While aware that a Russian victory would irreversibly undermine the European security architecture, these governments continue to adopt a balanced rhetoric, invoking the need for proportionality, accountability and avoidance of escalation. In reality, they try to maintain a fragile balance between support for Ukraine and fear of energy, social or cyber reprisals, preferring lucid stagnation rather than a strategic risk taken.
Instead, Central and Eastern Europe looks at the conflict from a different perspective – one marked by the historical experience of Russian aggression and painful strategic lucidity. Countries such as Poland, Romania or the Baltic states have no illusions about the Kremlin's intentions and perceive the support given to Ukraine not as an act of generosity, but as a necessity for self-preservation. In this area, fear is metabolized into political will, and support for Kyiv is considered an act of national security, not political sympathy. Yet even here, there is a latent tension between loyalty to Trump's America – which offers protection and weaponry – and attachment to Brussels Europe that offers rules, funds and, sometimes, moral ambiguity.
In general, Europe is experiencing a form of silent strategic desperation. Its leaders understand that Ukraine cannot be allowed to lose without NATO and the European Union compromising its credibility, but at the same time admit that a complete victory for Kyiv, accompanied by strikes on Russian territory, could generate a type of response that the continent is not prepared to handle. In this ambivalence, an oppressive silence is taking shape: a Europe that no longer has the strength to dictate, but also the courage to say openly that it is afraid.
This silence is also fueled by a deep moral fault line. While the official discourse remains anchored in European values – international law, sovereignty, solidarity – the political reality in many Member States is marked by populism, electoral pressure, media polarisation and strategic fatigue. Under this pressure, the Western political class is hesitant to tell its citizens the truth: that the continent's security depends, now more than ever, on the ability to take real risks, including military ones.
In conclusion, Europe is not a weak player, but it is an uncertain one. He is afraid of climbing, but he is even more afraid of losing. And between these two fears slips an adversary who understands very well that strategic indecision can be more lethal than lack of means.
While the West is caught in a strategic dilemma between active support for Ukraine and fear of escalation, the rest of the world is viewing the conflict with a mix of tactical detachment, economic opportunism and geopolitical pragmatism. The non-Western world is not neutral, nor ideologically mobilized; it does not openly support Russia, nor does it consider it necessary to support Euro-Atlantic efforts unreservedly. In this equation, silence becomes a form of gaining time, space, and advantages in the new global reconfiguration.
China is playing its role with strategic meticulousness. Under an official discourse of peace, multipolar balance and state sovereignty, Beijing avoids any clear condemnation of Russia, preferring to maintain advantageous economic relations, especially in the energy sector. The purchases of Russian oil and natural gas, the expansion of influence through the “Belt and Road” Initiative and the consolidation of the BRICS as a symbolic alternative to the G7 are just some of the moves through which China is turning the Ukrainian conflict into an accelerator of its own global strategy. He does not want a triumphant Russia, but neither does he want a collapsed one – but rather a weakened, dependent and malleable partner, useful in the game of attrition against Western supremacy.
India, for its part, practices active neutrality, refusing to align itself with any side. While maintaining its traditional economic and military relations with Moscow, Delhi is also developing increasingly close partnerships with the US, Japan and the UK, in the context of the rivalry in the Indo-Pacific. India's position is not marked by ideology, but by the ambition to become an independent global actor, capable of navigating between centers of power without being constrained by rigid alliances. The conflict in Ukraine offers India a stage for strategic affirmation and an opportunity for global repositioning, without the risks taken by Western states.
For most states in Africa, Latin America and Southeast Asia, the war is perceived as a conflict of the North, of the white and industrialized powers, whose priorities do not necessarily reflect the interests of the global South. These countries often criticize the West's double standard – citing comparisons to situations such as Palestine or Syria – and use the anti-imperialist narrative to justify distancing themselves from the sanctions imposed on Russia. After all, these regimes are not motivated by sympathy for the Kremlin, but by the economic opportunities offered by the global crisis: access to cheaper energy, alternative investments from China or Turkey, and the chance to negotiate harder with international financial institutions.
This dynamic does not reflect a real solidarity between the global South and Russia, but rather a calculated rejection of the Western order. The war in Ukraine thus becomes a stress test for post-war liberal hegemony: the longer the conflict drags on, the more non-Western actors gain confidence that the world can function even without the normative tutelage of Europe and the United States. Without proposing a coherent alternative model, these actors support, de facto, a rebalancing of the international system, based on multipolarity, transactionality and absolute sovereignty.
In conclusion, the non-Western world is not a mere spectator, but an indirect beneficiary of the conflict, capitalizing on silence as a tool for negotiation, ambiguity as a diplomatic shield and equivocation as a strategy for internal consolidation. Their silence does not express passivity, but a form of strategic calm in a war that does not belong to them, but which offers them a new space for maneuver in a transforming global order.
In the new geopolitical context, in which hitting Moscow is no longer just a theoretical scenario, but an option analyzed and discussed at the highest level of strategic decision-making, Romania is in an apparently clear, but deeply ambiguous position. On the one hand, it is one of the most vocal and consistent allies of Ukraine and the United States, hosting NATO military infrastructure, actively participating in joint exercises, and providing essential logistical support for the Eastern Front. On the other hand, it remains a secondary actor in the decision-making architecture, without its own voice in the major negotiations and without an articulated strategy of internal protection in case of escalation.
Strategic loyalty to Washington and Brussels has become, in the official discourse, an identity reflex. Romania is, without a doubt, a predictable ally, but it is precisely this predictability that makes it easy to ignore in the logic of the big games. If the presence of American troops is seen as a guarantee of security, this perception is not doubled by an internal risk-taking policy. It systematically avoids discussing the real implications of Romania's position – both in terms of critical infrastructure and in terms of borders, minorities or possible strategic targets that could be targeted in Russian response scenarios.
Romania is aware that any expansion of the conflict would directly affect its territory – through cyberattacks, logistical sabotage, hybrid propaganda or border incidents – but continues to act with a caution that, although justifiable, risks turning into strategic paralysis. Behind a discourse of firmness, a deep internal silence persists, fueled by the lack of coherent communication with the population and the fear of recognizing the real vulnerabilities of the state.
This ambiguity is aggravated by a discursive double standard. Externally, Romania presents itself as a strategic partner and reliable regional actor; internally, however, it avoids assuming the consequences of this positioning. There is no national resilience strategy, the potential costs of military engagement are not discussed, and the population is kept in a state of relative administrative calm, without access to an honest analysis of the risks.
At the same time, Romania remains trapped between two paradigms of loyalty: the one to the United States, which offers protection and military leadership, and the one to the European Union, which offers resources and rules, but often without a clear strategic vision. This dual positioning is manageable in peacetime, but it can become problematic in crisis conditions, especially if the transatlantic alliances enter a phase of decision-making divergence.
In order to get out of this state of silent exposure, Romania should initiate a process of reassessing its own strategic profile. It is essential to develop a national resilience framework, professionalize government strategic communication, invest in dual infrastructure (civilian and military) and, above all, rethink the way the state prepares its population for crisis scenarios. Romania can no longer afford to be just a transit territory or a “buffer zone” between East and West; it must become a lucid regional actor, with decision-making, ownership and influence capacity.
In conclusion, Romania plays an important but often invisible role: it is loyal but hesitant, exposed, but symbolically unprepared. And in the absence of a clear strategy, he risks remaining a silent actor in a conflict in which he participates fully – even if not declaratively, certainly operationally.
“– Can you hit Moscow?” “ – Absolutely!”
This exchange of replies, although still unofficial and circulating rather in the discreet registers of strategic diplomacy, came to concentrate the fundamental tension of an era. It is no longer just about Ukraine, NATO or the Russian Federation; It is a change of logic in the way global balance is defined. If in the past peace was maintained through restraint and balance of forces, today a new paradigm is emerging: the one in which peace is imposed by assumed force, and deterrence no longer works unless the opponent believes that you are willing to act without reservations.
The fundamental question that arises from this is whether this new approach – in which escalation becomes a means of de-escalation – can be considered a rational solution or just a pretext for major geopolitical repositions.
If it is a solution, then it implies an assumption of strategic risk as a legitimate instrument of negotiation and reaffirmation of the international order. In this logic, striking Moscow would become not only possible, but necessary – not to destroy, but to prevent the repetition of systemic aggression in a world increasingly vulnerable to authoritarian narratives.
If, however, it is a pretext, then we must ask ourselves what exactly is behind this intention: a resizing of the global security architecture in favor of the United States? A justification for the militarization of democratic discourse? A form of economic pressure transformed into a strategic vector? In either of these hypotheses, the reality is the same: the post-2022 world is a world in which neutrality becomes fiction, and balance – a fragile construction between fear, moral fatigue and strategic will.
Europe can no longer be ruled by diluted diplomatic formulas, and democracies can no longer avoid confronting the reality of risk. Romania, in turn, can no longer be protected only by institutional politeness or by symbolic presence in strategic partnerships; it takes lucidity, assumption and the ability to decide – not just to react.
In conclusion, hitting Moscow is not a question about military geography, but a question about the world: about who runs it, in whose name or what and at what cost.
About the author:
Col. (ret.) Dr. Cătălin Balog is an analyst and trainer with extensive experience in intelligence, information security, and strategic communication. He holds a PhD in Military Sciences, with a dissertation focused on security risk management in cyberspace, and has served for over two decades in structures of the Romanian Ministry of National Defence.
Currently, he is an associate professor at the University of Bucharest, where he teaches courses in information management. His research interests include the analysis of contemporary social and political mechanisms, with particular attention to the relationship between ideology, technology, and the simulation of democracy.
The article presents the stance of the author and does not necessarily reflect the stance of IFIMES.
Ljubljana/ Bucharest, 13 August 2025
[1] IFIMES – International Institute for Middle East and Balkan Studies, based in Ljubljana, Slovenia, has Special Consultative status at ECOSOC/UN, New York, since 2018 and it’s publisher of the international scientific journal “European Perspectives”.
