Ever since the Great Game in the second half of the 19th century, which represented an imperial struggle between Russia and Great Britain for dominance in the greater Central Asian region, Persia (or Iran) has played the role of a structural node for Moscow’s influence in the region. Even during the Soviet era, the communist empire attempted to assert its influence over Tehran and once again found Britain as a rival. When the USSR and Britain became allies of necessity during the Second World War, they divided Iran in much the same way as the Soviet Union had previously partitioned Poland with Nazi Germany.
In the Putin era, Iran has become one of Russia’s most significant allies and a key element for Moscow’s ambitions in the Middle East. Militarily, the two countries helped Bashar al-Assad turn the Syrian civil war in his favor in the 2010s (and then later they both abandoned him at the same time, 2024), Moscow supplied significant quantities of weapons to Iran, which in turn sent Shahed drones to Russia and helped it set up factories to produce them itself.
What Russia cannot do, however, is protect its ally, and that says a lot about the true strength of the “empire” that Vladimir Putin wants.
In the Putin era, Potemkin villages have been replaced by a Potemkin empire
Today, the autocratic leaders of Russia are attempting once more to rebuild their empire, with mixed results. While it is true that Russia is now recognised as the foremost threat to European security, its influence is much weaker than that of its communist and tsarist predecessors. Beyond Belarus, which Russia controls to a degree comparable to that which the Soviet Union once asserted over various satellite states of the Eastern Bloc, only Georgia is currently drifting towards its zone of influence. Central Asian states are balancing Russian influence by leaning on China, with Armenia turning westward and mending relations with Turkey. Azerbaijan is doing its utmost to put Russia in its place and to demonstrate that it can no longer be treated as a junior partner, following the success of its close alliance with Turkey.
In the Balkans, an echo of Russian dominance can be heard in the distance through various right- and left-wing populist parties that it supports. However, since the invasion of Ukraine even this under-the-table influence has started to appear heavy-handed and far from elegant. Russia certainly has the largest footprint in Serbia, which in a way continues the once-lucrative non-aligned policy of its mother country, Yugoslavia. Since Serbia no longer lies on the dividing line between the Western and Eastern worlds but is in fact an island surrounded by that very Western world, its foreign strategy brings no tangible advantage to the country’s political or economic influence. It does, however, help to solidify the stability of the Vučić national-populist regime. Russia is facing setbacks even in politically self-isolated Serbia, since the US is pushing Russian oil interests out of the entire Balkan region.
Even the weakest iteration of the Russian empire still casts a long shadow of ambition over regions within its reach. In 2014, Russia not only orchestrated a limited invasion of Ukraine but also returned in force to the Middle East by militarily intervening to protect Assad’s regime in Syria. This empirically demonstrates that Russia is not merely attempting to reforge an Eastern Slavic empire within the Russian-Belarusian-Ukrainian triangle; it is in fact seeking to restore the lost Soviet sphere of influence wherever practically possible. This has certainly entailed an increased military presence in the Middle East and Central Asia. Russia has also meddled in Latin America, supporting anti-American autocratic socialist regimes in Cuba, Venezuela, Bolivia, and Nicaragua. Its staying power has nevertheless proved weak. This is especially true in the Western Hemisphere, where the Trump administration has decisively pushed out Chinese and Russian influence, often in an imperial manner. In the Middle East as well, Russia suffered a shocking defeat with the fall of Assad in late 2024, which largely negated its gains since 2015, and in the case of Iran, Russia stands to lose an important partner in the region and in its rivalry with the West.
Furthermore, the paranoia of Russia’s highest leadership intensifies with every toppled dictator. This fear originated with the NATO intervention against the Milošević regime in 1999 and was sharpened by the downfall of several Middle Eastern dictators during the Arab Spring. It is important to understand that the Russian leadership, which comprises partly members of the late-Soviet security apparatus and partly their own cronies from the 1990s, views all mass democratic movements as staged by Western intelligence services. Empire-building represents the Russian leadership’s attempt to cement the autocratic system they have constructed over more than two decades while simultaneously securing for themselves a prominent place in Russian state history. The concept of “gathering the Russian lands” has been a consistently powerful motif in Russian imperialism since the 16th century and the emergence of Russian imperial thought. Beyond the borders of this imagined “Russian World” lie the Balkans, the Middle East, and Central Asia, with Latin America and Sub-Saharan Africa representing the legacy of Soviet anti-colonialism and anti-Americanism.
The war in Iran shows, once again, the limits of Russia's power, which is incapable of defending its partners
All of Russia’s new imperial ambitions aside, its foreign policy is based on rationality and pragmatism. Rationality here does not mean that bellicose Russian neo-imperialism constitutes a more optimal strategy than the peaceful alternative of Russia acting as a bridge between China and Europe, but rather that the decisions of the Russian leadership in the sphere of international relations are not guided by a strict, rigid ideological paradigm; they are instead goal-oriented. Soviet foreign policy was not without its share of pragmatism: the communists supported many primarily nationalist regimes in the Global South, and who could forget the Soviet switch from Somalia to Ethiopia right in the middle of a war? Still, the Soviets could not, for example, have supported populist right-wing parties in the West, unlike contemporary Russia.
In the case of the US-Israel war against Iran or the American intervention in Venezuela, Russian pragmatism sets the standard to which its leadership adheres when it comes to shifting partnerships. Russia signs treaties on strategic cooperation but never includes defence clauses, meaning that the partnership does not oblige Russia to defend its partners. When the US invaded Venezuela, Russia formally complained; when the US began demilitarising Iran from the air, Russia formally complained once more. In both instances, the Russian narrative preceding the US military interventions was that of closest strategic partners, with which Russia not only traded for resources but also imported and exported arms. These partnerships were definitely tangible, not confined to empty rhetoric, but Russia is not in reality an empire: it is not capable of protecting its partners, and that is precisely the reason it does not forge alliances. This translates to Russia not being a potential ally, a fact that its current partners, such as Serbia, should take note of. Armenia, for instance, found out that Russia cannot be an ally in the hardest way possible. Small or middle powers that antagonise the US must keep this fact in mind when selecting a course of conflict while partnering with Russia. In the end, Russia is a rogue ex superpower on a war path, looking out exclusively for itself.
Pragmatism in foreign policy brings Russia multiple gains, such as freedom to extricate itself from conflicts it cannot win on behalf of other states, the ability to improve its economic and military standing without defence clauses, and the flexibility to quickly change partners or acquire new ones in response to shifting political landscapes. The downside is that it makes Russia appear unreliable and weak, especially because its state-funded propaganda portrays these fleeting partnerships as genuine alliances. This callous pragmatism also underscores the fact that Russia lacks credibility when signing agreements with its adversaries. If Russia is willing to abandon its partners with ease, it is most certainly prepared to abandon its obligations to its rivals at an opportune moment. Thus, the lesson for middle powers is not only to avoid relying on Russia when antagonising the West, but also for opponents of Russia never to trust its grandiose promises when striking agreements. This iteration of the Russian empire is as cruel and ambitious as the Soviet one; the fact that it is far less powerful does not change its nature or make it any less dangerous.
