Russia's unending search for a coherent foreign policy

But new challenges quickly emerged. Reliance on force and geopolitical horse-trading didn't deliver the expected returns. Post-Soviet partners turned out to be far more independent than Moscow had bargained for. And the Ukrainian question evolved from a peripheral issue into a systemic one—a crack running through the entire framework.

Over time, even domestic fatigue with the foreign policy agenda became visible. Public sentiment gradually shifted away from imperial ambitions toward a preference for more pragmatic and predictable relations with the major players.

Transformative moment

Russia's military entry into Syria was a transformative moment for Moscow. It showed that Russia could act decisively far beyond its own borders—not just as a supplier of arms and resources, but as a full-fledged military and political player offering security services and forceful cover. Its foothold in Syria allowed it to project influence throughout the Middle East, Africa, and Latin America. But the Kremlin, carried away by tactical successes, lost sight of the strategic horizon—and now, following the fall of Assad, is scrambling to patch up each new regional entanglement with Syrian ties.

Today, Russian foreign policy remains opaque to the outside world—what Russians call a "thing in itself." Declarations of peaceful intent and disclaimers about having nothing to do with old-school gunboat diplomacy sit side by side with Russia's ongoing military campaign in Ukraine and a conspicuous readiness to respond asymmetrically to any move. At the same time, virtually any peace proposal coming from outside is met with suspicion.

In that sense, the system's indifference toward crafting a coherent foreign policy—after years of searching—makes a certain kind of sense, and the personnel crisis only underscores the point. In the Middle East, this manifested itself in the resignation of Mikhail Bogdanov, the deputy foreign minister and the president's special representative for the region. In theory, the special representative role allows for direct access to the president, bypassing the foreign ministry. But the position has remained unfilled ever since. As a result, Igor Kostyukov, the head of Russia's military intelligence (GRU), has been forced to step in as a negotiator on a range of purely political issues in the region—matters that formally fall well outside the purview of military intelligence and embassy military attachés.

Repeated mistake

One of Russia's most persistent—and most damaging—mistakes of the past three decades has been its fixation on NATO expansion. Each new step the alliance took eastward was perceived as an existential threat, and each such step provoked a sharp reaction—one that, rather than halting the process, only accelerated it. In that sense, Russia's decision to invade Ukraine was a culmination of this outdated strategic thinking.

Instead of weakening NATO, Moscow ended up restoring its raison d'être, consolidating its ranks, and reviving the image of Russia as a military threat. What's more, the attempt to prevent a military foothold near its borders has now resulted in Russian air defence systems repelling hundreds of Ukrainian drone attacks on a daily basis.

So, on the one hand, the West continues to be cast as the main adversary and source of threats—a line regularly reinforced in rhetoric and legislative initiatives in recent years. On the other hand, Moscow is increasingly testing the waters for selective agreements on issues where common ground may still exist: strategic stability, certain aspects of global security, and a new security architecture. But the effort to pair confrontation with compromise creates the impression of constant tactical improvisation—a kind of self-reassurance amid the lack of visible breakthroughs on the Ukrainian front and mounting economic pressures.

Furthermore, Moscow positions itself as an independent power centre interested in shaping a new European security architecture, yet on Middle Eastern affairs, it adopts a hesitant stance, constantly manoeuvring among the region's various players.

Lack of dynamism

That caution is understandable. The European front remains an absolute priority for the Kremlin, and Moscow is in no rush to get drawn into additional conflicts that could upset an already fragile regional balance. But the truth is that balance has already been upended. And Middle Eastern players have long been waiting for Moscow to offer something more dynamic—something beyond simply playing on the contradictions between the US and Gulf states.

A clearer policy line would allow Moscow, among other things, to signal to Tehran where the existing "red lines" actually lie and where the limits of Russian support might be—while at the same time securing broader and more reliable backing from the Arab states.

In the end, Russian foreign policy tries to be everything at once—anti-Western and dialogue-oriented, imperial and anti-colonial, pragmatic and ideologically driven. Instead of a coherent strategy, tactical moves substitute for systematic planning, and reactive responses take the place of considered policy.

As a result, Moscow has been unable to formulate a consistent understanding of its own interests, let alone defend them coherently. And without that, any isolated successes remain just that—episodes.