“Russia and the United States do not actually have a conflict,” recently declared “chief” Russian propagandist Vladimir Solovyov. Yet, barely one year ago, the same Solovyev—who now lavishes praise on America’s new leader—was openly declaring that “respect for the Americans is zero” and two years earlier vowed that Russia would strike so hard that “no America will remain”.
The shift in tone – directly tied to Donald Trump’s return to the White House, and particularly his decision to halt US military aid to Ukraine – is a testament to the volatility of Russia’s narrative, where sympathies and allegiances can shift overnight. But more revealing is what it exposes about the Kremlin’s strategy: Russian state media does not just reflect government objectives—it telegraphs them, often making the government’s intentions clear before they are publicly stated.
Amid this backdrop of constantly shifting narratives – from occupying all of Ukraine, to “liberating” the Donbas, from waging a holy war against a decadent West to rebuilding relations with the United States – the question that everyone, both within Russia and beyond its borders, is asking is: What does Putin really want? A close look at state media and Russian officials’ declarations may offer a clearer answer.
From hysteria to impotence: Russia’s dual portrayal of Europe
“Hysteria,” “Panic,” “Neurotic” – such terms have recently dominated Russian officials’ and the media’s portrayal of Europe. With shifting US-Russia relations, Europe has taken on the role of the scapegoat, suddenly cast as the primary antagonist in the Kremlin’s narrative.
In Security Council statements, Russia accused Europe of supplying Ukraine with the most dangerous weapons, with Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov even blaming Europe for every global catastrophe over the last five centuries.
However, in stark contrast, Russia’s rhetoric also dismisses Europe’s ability to act effectively. Analysts and commentators often describe Europe as talk-heavy, slow-moving, and ineffective. This duality in Russian discourse casts Europe as both a dangerous threat and a feeble player on the global stage.
Emmanuel Macron’s recent statement advocating France’s nuclear deterrent to protect Europe from Russia has sparked a fierce backlash in Russia. Kremlin-affiliated outlets quickly labelled his comments as “hysterical”, and Russian officials depicted him as the leader of the war party in Europe, determined to prolong the war. The Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs further deepened this narrative, stating: “The speech leaves a sense of embarrassment for Emmanuel Macron himself, who is striving to present himself as a new leader of the “free world”.
While France has long harbored ambitions of geopolitical “grandeur”, the current context marks a decisive shift. As the Russian threat becomes increasingly palpable, European nations are growing more inclined to accept France’s leadership and protection. In this new reality, Macron’s rhetoric transcends a national ambition, becoming a reflection of Europe’s collective acknowledgement of the gravity of the moment and its urgent need for security.
Yet, as Macron steps into this leadership role, Russian critiques of the French President have escalated into personal attacks, a common tactic in Russian public discourse. Dmitry Medvedev compared Macron to a “castrated rooster”, one journalist described the French president as “a neurotic narcissist who never quite finished playing with toy soldiers”, while others questioned his gender altogether.
While Kremlin-aligned media lash out at Macron’s “nuclear rhetoric”, they conveniently ignore their own history of threats directed towards France and other European nations. Just months ago, Solovyov, on Russia’s First Channel declared: “They’ve missed the Russians in Paris. They’ve missed us. Not for long. Wait for us, French. Wait. It won’t be long. We’ll be there soon. […] Through Berlin, then Paris, and then Como.”
This rhetoric serves a dual purpose. On the one hand, it positions Europe as a scapegoat and the universal enemy—an essential pillar of state propaganda. On the other, it brands Europe as weak and ineffective, “led by impotent idiots”. This discourse, increasingly centered around notions of virility and sexual capacity, reflects Russia’s internal vision of strength while underscoring the perceived impotence of European leadership, resonating with domestic audiences and reinforcing the narrative of Russian superiority.
Putin’s quest for a place in history at Europe’s expense
In stark contrast, Donald Trump emerges in Russian rhetoric as the embodiment of the masculinity it celebrates – rough, aggressive, and unyielding. Unlike European leaders, the relationship between Trump and Putin, as well as their portrayal in Russian media, is characterized by mutual recognition of strength and “manhood”. The mutual admiration reinforces the image of a united front, capable of challenging the established global order – an objective central to Putin’s strategic vision.
Yet, this alignment is less about genuine affinity and more about narrative manipulation. Figures like Solovyov, for instance, praise Trump for his avoidance of criticism toward Russia, describing his stance as marked by “tough” respect. However, such approval is pragmatic rather than heartfelt. As Solovyov clarifies, “No illusions. […] The issue is not what Trump wants – he’s not our president. The issue is what we want for the future of our country. And this is something we will decide.” Given the enduring suspicion toward the United States within Russian society, by portraying Trump as an exception, the Kremlin navigates around the decade-old dogma of “America as the enemy”, while leveraging his image, to project Russian strength. This allows Moscow to maintain its critical stance toward the West while exploiting Trump’s persona to bolster Russia’s own geopolitical posture.
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In official statements, Putin emphasizes the shifting dynamics of international relations and the imperative to protect sovereignty: “Our main priority remains protecting our national interests – our sovereignty, the life, and freedom of our citizens from any threat.”
While expressing openness to restoring interstate relations, Putin frames the process as long and complex, citing the “enormous volume of accumulated systemic and strategic problems in the global architecture.” Putin attributes these very problems as catalysts for crises like the war in Ukraine. Yet, he adds with approval that “our current partners are demonstrating pragmatism and a realistic view of things. They are abandoning many stereotypes, so-called rules, and the messianic clichés of their predecessors, which ultimately led to the crisis of the entire system of international relations.”
This reflects the core of Putin’s strategic vision: reshaping the world order, reinstating spheres of influence, and securing his historical legacy as the leader who restored Russia’s territorial and superpower status. Central to this vision is the restoration of Russia’s sphere of influence in Europe – not just to reclaim political leverage but to pursue territorial control and occupation, embodying Russia’s imperial ambitions. In a meeting with the mothers of fallen soldiers, Putin declared, “We don’t need what belongs to others, but at the same time we won’t give up what is ours.” Yet, the ambiguity of what is considered “ours” remains significant. A past intervention offers a hint: when correcting a young boy about Russia’s borders, Putin famously declared, “Russia N-E-V-E-R ends!”
What does Putin (and Trump) really want?
In recent months, in both Moscow and Washington we have witnessed a highly personalized form of testosterone-fueled diplomacy, where the prospect of peace has increasingly become a tool of geopolitical maneuvering. Diplomacy, rather than fostering collaboration, is now employed to preserve influence and uphold appearances. In this era of ego-driven diplomacy, alignments shift in response to fleeting interests, often driven by individual egos.
Nonetheless, the world order that emerged after the collapse of the Soviet Union granted countries the autonomy to define their own allegiances. These decisions are often shaped by economic, security, and cultural imperatives. The Western model, with its emphasis on positive liberties and freedom of expression, has created a fertile ground for innovation and improvements in quality of life, prompting many former Soviet countries to embrace it. As a result, America and Europe have developed a robust soft power base that allows them to exercise influence without the use of brute force – something Russia has historically lacked and, after the war in Ukraine, has nearly lost entirely in the Western world.
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In this context, Putin has come to realize that for Russia to reclaim its former greatness, he must dismantle the post-World War II international order, particularly the structures solidified after the fall of the Berlin Wall. This involves erasing the constraints imposed on Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union and reclaiming what he sees as Russia’s rightful sphere of influence. However, after three years of warfare, Russia’s economy is faltering and showing signs of strain. Consequently, Putin must now shift tactics, seeking to buy time to rebuild both his country’s economy and military. He needs a diplomatic resolution that can be framed as a victory, one that allows him to maintain credibility at home and among BRICS and other sympathetic nations. This outcome must avoid the humiliation of Russia’s further strategic degradation, as Moscow is already relegated to a junior partner role in its alliance with Beijing – a position that increasingly undermines Russia’s global standing and ambitions.
Yet, while Putin’s objectives can be analyzed with relative clarity, the broader American interests in this equation may seem more complex. Why, after all, would the United States – the primary beneficiary of the current world order – align with its historical rival to challenge it? The answer largely lies in geopolitical imperatives. Washington is increasingly concerned with Russia’s growing dependence on China. The US understands that it must act to pull Russia into its orbit before a potential conflict with China intensifies, even if this means sacrificing some of its traditional alliances. This approach aligns with broader geopolitical logic: having already prevented further alignments between Moscow and Berlin, the US considers it strategically prudent to focus its efforts on the competition with Beijing. However – at least in theory – this must be done carefully as abandoning Ukraine entirely could risk obliterating US credibility among its allies.
The more pressing question, however, is whether Russia will view a deeper rapprochement with the United States as in its long-term interests. And will China –emerging as the ultimate beneficiary of this war through access to cheap energy, insulation from Taiwan tensions, and insights into American military technology –remain passive as its “limitless friendship” with Russia is being challenged? These are the critical strategic questions that the US, and Europe, must ask themselves as they navigate shifting alliances and an uncertain future.