Even as host, Putin couldn't convince BRICS to embrace his war propaganda—looks like even friends prefer neutrality over siding with an aggressor.
If
BRICS had truly intended to back Russia in its war against Ukraine, the Kazan
Declaration would have read much differently. Instead, the document, a
sprawling 134-point summary of agreements, includes just a single paragraph
about the war. The language used was deliberately neutral, urging all parties
to adhere to United Nations principles—far from the impassioned narrative that
Vladimir Putin had likely hoped for, and a striking indication that Russia
still struggles to rally even its closest allies behind its war.
Consider
the irony of the situation: here we have a summit hosted by Russia, with Putin
at the helm, and yet the mention of his ongoing war is almost a diplomatic
whisper. For a man who prides himself on wielding influence on the global
stage, this barely-there acknowledgement of the Ukraine conflict is a bitter
pill to swallow. The absence of Russia’s usual aggressive rhetoric—such as
claims of NATO encroachment or the alleged presence of "Nazis" in
Ukraine—highlights that Moscow is not getting the carte blanche it desires,
even among nations it considers friends and partners.
The
Institute for the Study of War (ISW) and other analysts have pointed out that
the Kazan Declaration is a clear testament to Russia’s limited success in
international diplomacy concerning its war. Even though Putin played the role
of host and expected an echo chamber for his views, what he received was more
akin to a lukewarm nod—a nod acknowledging the war, yet veering clear of
endorsing any specific side. It’s as if the BRICS nations have strategically
opted to play Switzerland, maintaining neutrality rather than aligning
explicitly with Russia's cause.
Take
China, for example—a country that has provided indirect support to Russia
through economic ties, including the supply of weapons parts, and yet carefully
avoids aligning itself openly with Moscow's war narrative. This is not mere
caution; it’s a calculated move. China knows that openly backing Russia could
have far-reaching economic repercussions, especially given its complex trade
relations with the West. Brazil and India, too, continue to maintain robust
economic relationships with Western nations, despite their apparent camaraderie
within BRICS. It is as if the BRICS nations are hedging their bets, unwilling
to alienate powerful economic partners such as the United States and European
Union, even as they share a summit table with Moscow.
Interestingly,
the Kazan Declaration was far more vocal on other conflicts and geopolitical
issues, dedicating five points to condemning Israeli actions in the Middle
East, and even discussing the South Sudanese Civil War in more depth than the
Ukraine conflict. It's almost like an unspoken message to Russia: "We can
discuss the world's conflicts, but don’t expect us to dive deep into
yours." The Russian government, therefore, is left grappling with the
reality that not even its closest allies are willing to put their reputations
on the line to back its aggressive stance.
The
challenges of isolation were further exposed in logistical hiccups at the
summit. Due to Western sanctions, attendees were instructed to bring cash in
U.S. dollars or euros for transactions, as Russian-issued Mastercard and Visa
cards were no longer functional for international transactions. Think about
that: the very currencies that Putin has repeatedly vilified and attempted to
cast aside are the ones required to grease the wheels of his flagship
international event. This small, yet significant irony underscores the larger,
glaring problem—Russia's attempts to create an alternative financial structure
have fallen flat, much like its attempts to create a new world order through
its invasion of Ukraine.
Furthermore,
it’s telling that other BRICS leaders have consistently chosen a middle-ground
stance. In the face of what Russia portrays as a battle against NATO expansion,
their silence speaks volumes. They may be happy to benefit from discounted
Russian oil or increase bilateral trade in rubles, but when it comes to
sticking their necks out to defend Moscow’s narrative, their lips are sealed.
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, for instance, has deftly sidestepped the
issue. India, while benefiting from increased oil trade with Russia, continues
to balance its relations with the U.S., as evidenced by its membership in the
Quad—a security alliance that includes the U.S., Australia, and Japan, created
specifically to counterbalance China's influence in the Indo-Pacific region.
Brazil, under President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, has also maintained an
equivocal stance, focusing on economic gains rather than diplomatic support for
Russia’s cause.
Russia's
failure to get solid backing for its invasion also highlights the risks of
trying to reshape global norms through sheer force. The international
community’s reluctance to endorse Putin's war reveals the dissonance between
Russia's vision and the reality of global politics. Unlike in the past, where
superpowers could perhaps arm-twist smaller nations into submission, today’s
globalized economy makes such maneuvers fraught with risk. The sanctions levied
against Russia are evidence of the costs of isolation; it is not just a hit to
the economy, but a broader rejection by the global community of Moscow's
methods. The Kremlin’s dream of forging a new "anti-Western"
coalition seems to be cracking under the pressure of geopolitical pragmatism.
There
is an old African proverb that says, "When there is no enemy within, the
enemies outside cannot hurt you." In this context, Russia’s primary enemy
seems to be its own miscalculations. It overestimated its influence, assuming
that the shared anti-Western sentiment among BRICS nations would translate into
unequivocal support for its actions in Ukraine. Instead, what has unfolded is
an almost embarrassing lack of backing from nations that Moscow thought it
could count on. They’re willing to attend the summit, yes, and perhaps even
smile for the cameras, but when the chips are down, they remain non-committal—a
reality that Moscow cannot afford to ignore.
The
whole situation becomes even more poignant when you think of Putin’s repeated
insistence on the need for a multipolar world. This declaration was supposed to
showcase BRICS as a strong bloc capable of counterbalancing Western influence.
Instead, what we saw was fragmentation—nations interested in advancing their
own agendas while carefully avoiding getting caught in the crossfire of
Russia’s war. It turns out that even those that share the table with Putin have
their limits, and when those limits are tested, what’s left is a watered-down
diplomatic statement buried in a 43-page document.
It’s
almost laughable, then, to think of Putin as the powerful leader steering the
ship of an anti-Western bloc. If anything, the Kazan Declaration has revealed
the emperor's new clothes. Russia stands alone in its endeavor, struggling to
rally the troops, while BRICS nations cautiously navigate the tightrope between
their own interests and the need to avoid international fallout. It appears
that being the host doesn't guarantee being the leader—sometimes, it just makes
you the one serving tea at the party where nobody really wants to talk about
what’s in your own backyard.
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