As biological research and its applications rapidly evolve, new attempts at the governance of biology are emerging, challenging traditional assumptions about how science works and who is responsible for governing. However, these governance approaches often are not evaluated, analyzed, or compared. This hinders the building of a cumulative base of experience and opportunities for learning. Consider “biosecurity governance,” a term with no internationally agreed definition, here defined as the processes that influence behavior to prevent or deter misuse of biological science and technology. Changes in technical, social, and political environments, coupled with the emergence of natural diseases such as coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), are testing existing governance processes. This has led some communities to look beyond existing biosecurity models, policies, and procedures. But without systematic analysis and learning across them, it is hard to know what works. We suggest that activities focused on rethinking biosecurity governance present opportunities to “experiment” with new sets of assumptions about the relationship among biology, security, and society, leading to the development, assessment, and iteration of governance hypotheses.

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The novel coronavirus (COVID-19) is a global public health disaster of almost biblical proportions. It is a once-in-a-century occurrence that threatens to destroy countless lives, ruin economies, and stress national and international institutions to their breaking point. And, even after the virus recedes, the geopolitical wreckage it leaves in its wake could be profound.

Many have understandably drawn comparisons to the influenza pandemic of 1918 and 1919. That pandemic, which began in the final months of World War I, may have infected 500 million people and killed 50 million people around the globe. As the grim toll of COVID-19 mounts, it remains to be seen if that comparison will prove apt in terms of the human cost.

But, if we want to understand the even darker direction in which the world may be headed, leaders and policymakers ought to pay more attention to the two decades after the influenza pandemic swept the globe. This period, often referred to as the interwar years, was characterized by rising nationalism and xenophobia, the grinding halt of globalization in favor of beggar-thy-neighbor policies, and the collapse of the world economy in the Great Depression. Revolution, civil war, and political instability rocked important nations. The world’s reigning liberal hegemon — Great Britain — struggled and other democracies buckled while rising authoritarian states sought to aggressively reshape the international order in accordance with their interests and values. Arms races, imperial competition, and territorial aggression ensued, culminating in World War II — the greatest calamity in modern times.

In the United States, the interwar years also saw the emergence of the “America First” movement. Hundreds of thousands rallied to the cause of the America First Committee, pressing U.S. leaders to seek the false security of isolationism as the world burned around them. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt pushed back, arguing that rising global interdependence meant no nation — not even one as powerful and geographically distant as the United States — could wall itself off from growing dangers overseas. His warning proved prescient. The war eventually came to America’s shores in the form of the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Even before COVID-19, shadows of the interwar years were beginning to re-emerge. The virus, however, has brought these dynamics into sharper relief. And the pandemic seems likely to greatly amplify them as economic and political upheaval follows, great-power rivalry deepens, institutions meant to encourage international cooperation fail, and American leadership falters. In this respect, as Richard Haas notes, the COVID-19 pandemic and the aftershocks it will produce seem poised to “accelerate history,” returning the world to a much more dangerous time.

However, history is not destiny. While COVID-19 worsens or sets in motion events that may increasingly resemble this harrowing past, we are not fated to repeat it. Humans have agency. Our leaders have real choices. The United States remains the world’s most powerful democracy. It has a proud legacy of transformational leaps in human progress, including advances that have eradicated infectious diseases. It is still capable of taking urgent steps to ensure the health, prosperity, and security of millions of Americans while also leading the world to navigate this crisis and build something better in its aftermath. America can fight for a better future. Doing so effectively, however, requires understanding the full scope of the challenges it is likely to face.

Read the rest at War on the Rocks

In the midst of the damage to public health and the global economy, the COVID-19 crisis could present an unexpected opportunity both to resolve the only hot war in Europe and to address Russian President Vladimir Putin's assault on international norms of behavior.

As the spreading coronavirus and collapsing oil prices weigh increasingly on the Kremlin, the United States and its allies should offer to lift international sanctions against Russia if Putin will end his military incursions into Ukraine. President Trump and Congress can advance America's interests, and the world's, with a bold step to encourage an end to this war. The Trump administration and Congress should seize this opening.

Read the rest at NPR.org.

Ukrainians rode a wild roller coaster in March.  President Volodymyr Zelensky began the month by firing the prime minister and reshuffling the cabinet, prompting concern that oligarchs were reasserting their influence.  COVID-19 and its dire economic implications, however, refocused attention.  At the end of the month, the Rada (Ukraine’s parliament) passed on first reading legislation key to securing low-interest credits from the International Monetary Fund.

Meanwhile, controversy flared over the Donbas.  A March 11 agreement reached by Zelensky’s chief of staff broke a long-standing Ukrainian position by giving status to the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk “people’s republics”—the parts of Ukraine’s eastern region of Donbas occupied by Russian and Russian proxy forces.  It is unclear if Kyiv will go forward with the agreement.

Cabinet Reshuffle

On March 4, Prime Minister Oleksiy Honcharuk resigned at Zelensky’s request.  Honcharuk and his cabinet were widely viewed as inexperienced but honest and pro-reform.  Only in office for six months, Honcharuk’s team did not have time to achieve much of its ambitious agenda.

The new prime minister, Denys Shmyhal, brought little in the way of a national reputation, and the new cabinet lacks the reformist sheen of its predecessor.  Few took Zelensky’s reason for the reshuffle—the cabinet’s supposed ineffectiveness—at face value.  Some speculated that falling approval ratings provided the real motive.  Others wondered whether this signified Zelensky’s shedding the pro-reform, anti-corruption persona that won him the top job in 2019 and feared a return to the country’s unfortunate tradition of quiet government dealings with oligarchs.

Reformers became more depressed on March 5 when Prosecutor General Ruslan Riaboshapka was fired for refusing to investigate Petro Poroshenko, Zelensky’s predecessor.  Riaboshapka had a sterling reputation.  His replacement has never served as a prosecutor, is personally close to Zelensky, and ran on his party’s parliamentary ticket.  Her appointment raises doubts about the independence of the Prosecutor General’s Office.

The timing of the reshuffle—just as Kyiv sought to secure a new $5.5 billion agreement with the IMF—puzzled many.  Departing Finance Minister Oksana Makarova had made significant progress in negotiations with the IMF, but her immediate successor, Ihor Umanskiy, questioned the value of working with the Fund.

Back on Track, at least with IMF?

The newly appointed prime minister spent the month stressing the importance of securing the IMF program.  While he expressed his readiness to travel to Washington to meet the Fund’s leadership, the IMF told Kyiv to first complete two key preconditions.

One was Rada passage of a banking law that would prevent former owners whose banks had been nationalized from regaining ownership.  This targeted oligarch Ihor Kolomoisky, a former owner of PrivatBank.  After a 2016 audit revealed PrivatBank’s accounts were short $5 billion, the government nationalized it and made good the missing funds.  However, Kolomoisky recently suggested legal action to regain ownership or compensation, a deal-breaker for the IMF.

Kolomoisky has a link to the president, as he owns the television network that broadcast the comedy show in which Zelensky played a common man suddenly thrust into the presidency.  How the government handles the ownership of PrivatBank has become a litmus test for Zelensky.

The second issue was Rada passage of an agricultural reform bill that would lift a moratorium on the sale of agricultural land.  Ukraine has 30 percent of the world’s black earth, and the agricultural sector represents a bright spot in the economy.  But the prohibition on land sales denied private farmers the ability to use their land as collateral to secure loans to buy better seed, fertilizer and equipment.

While the Rada debated these measures in March, the rising number of COVID-19 cases and looming economic downturn focused attention on the need for the IMF program.  On March 30, the Rada sacked Umanskiy, replacing him with a new minister with established reform credentials, and replaced the minister of health as well.  It then approved, on first reading, the banking and agricultural land reform laws. 

The Rada has not satisfied the IMF completely, but March closed with Ukraine seemingly on track to secure its IMF program and suggestions that the Fund might make available more than $5.5 billion.  The vote on the banking law suggests a major break between the president and Kolomoisky, although doubts persist about Zelensky’s commitment to reform.  In any case, Kyiv will be swamped by the challenges of managing simultaneous health and economic crises.

Donbas Controversy

Domestic developments did not grab all of the March headlines.  A March 11 agreement regarding the Minsk Trilateral Contract Group (TCG) became a major point of contention in Kyiv.  The TGC consists of officials of Ukraine, Russia and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, with representatives of the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk “people’s republics” attending as unofficial “invitees.”  It has met for five years but has registered little progress toward implementing the objectives of the 2015 Minsk II agreement:  ending the fighting and restoring Ukrainian sovereignty over all of Donbas.

Andriy Yermak, the president’s chief of staff, sought to shake up the chessboard and tentatively agreed to a subgroup reporting to the TCG that would include equal numbers of representatives from Ukraine and of the occupied territory, with German, French, OSCE and Russian officials sitting in as observers.  The details leaked and provoked an immediate furor.

First, the subgroup was seen to give status to the two “people’s republics,” something Kyiv has carefully avoided over the course of the six-year-long conflict.  Second, by putting Russia on par with Germany, France and the OSCE, the agreement seemed to accept Moscow’s narrative that Russia is not a party to the conflict and that it is a civil war—despite the fact that Russian and Russian proxy forces occupy parts of Donetsk and Luhansk.

More broadly, critics saw no sign that the Kremlin, which still pulls the strings in occupied Donbas, had decided to end the conflict.

Officials close to the president asserted that the new subgroup would be consultative in nature.  They said the Ukrainian government would select ten members for the subgroup.  Of the ten to speak for the occupied territories, five would come from the ranks of internally-displaced persons who have left occupied Donbas—and Kyiv would influence who was chosen.  Ukrainian officials argued that this would be a favorable make-up (Kyiv picking fifteen of the twenty Ukrainian participants) and, in any case, the subgroup would only make recommendations to the TCG, not take decisions.

The new format poses risks, which officials acknowledge.  By the end of March, Kyiv seemed to have second thoughts, and the agreement was not signed on March 25, as had been planned. 

March was tough for Zelensky, and April may prove even more challenging.  The month began with the president and his government trying to come to grips with COVID-19 and an economy tipping toward recession, tempered by hope that Ukraine can manage the final steps necessary to secure an IMF program.  Battered over the TGC gambit, it is possible Kyiv will let the idea for a new subgroup die quietly.  As he nears the end of his first year as president, Zelensky, who came to the office a political neophyte, is finding just how difficult governing—for real, not in a television comedy show—can be.

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On Feb. 12, White House National Security Adviser Robert O’Brien announced that the U.S. government has “evidence that Huawei has the capability secretly to access sensitive and personal information in systems it maintains and sells around the world.” This represents the latest attempt by the Trump administration to support an argument that allied governments—and the businesses they oversee—should purge certain telecommunications networks of Huawei equipment. The position reflects the preferred approach in the United States, which is to issue outright bans against select companies (including Huawei) that meet an as-yet-unknown threshold of risk to national security.

Read the rest at Lawfare Blog

In the most sweeping reshuffle of his government since he took office last May, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky fired his Cabinet and appointed a new prime minister earlier this month. The announcement comes at a tricky time, as the government is considering several reform measures that are seen as important to winning much-needed investor confidence. In an email interview with WPR, Steven Pifer, a nonresident senior fellow at the Brookings Institution and former U.S. ambassador to Ukraine, discusses the factors behind Zelensky’s move and why the new Cabinet will need to work hard to prove it can bring about real change in Ukraine.

World Politics Review: Why has Zelensky chosen to reshuffle his government at this time?

Steven Pifer: Some analysts suggest Zelensky made the personnel change due to concern over his declining popularity. Elected with 73 percent of the vote last April, his approval rating has fallen to just under 50 percent—still high by Ukrainian standards. Overall, the new Cabinet ministers lack the reformist credentials of their predecessors, and the new prime minister, Denys Shmyhal, is a relative unknown. The change has given rise to concern that the country’s oligarchs, who continue to exercise outsized political influence, are reasserting their position after Zelensky’s initial pledges to rein them in.

That, combined with the inexplicable timing of the reshuffle, has rattled Ukrainian reformers and Western investors. Zelensky took office last year amid high hopes that his presidency could make a dramatic breakthrough and put Ukraine on a path of economic growth and reduced corruption. When I visited Kyiv in late October, Ukrainians I spoke with were cautiously optimistic about what Zelensky and his government could achieve. The Cabinet reshuffle moves the needle sharply in the direction of caution. Indeed, some analysts fear the president is not committed to real change, and that he will simply muddle through as president without making the breakthrough that Ukraine needs. He will have to work hard now to quash those concerns and meet the expectations of Ukrainian voters.

Read the rest at World Politics Review

March 18 marks the sixth anniversary of Russia’s illegal annexation of Crimea.  Attention now focuses on the Russian-Ukrainian conflict in Donbas, a conflict that has taken some 14,000 lives, but Moscow’s seizure of Crimea—the biggest land-grab in Europe since World War II—has arguably done as much or more damage to Europe’s post-Cold War security order.

Ukraine lacks the leverage to restore sovereignty over Crimea, at least for the foreseeable future.  But that does not mean the West should accept it.  Doing so might only encourage the Kremlin to believe that taking the territory of other countries is an action that it can get away with.

Crimea’s Illegal Annexation

Ukraine’s Maidan Revolution ended in late February 2014, when President Victor Yanukovych fled Kyiv—later to turn up in Russia—and the Rada (Ukraine’s parliament) appointed an acting president and acting prime minister to take charge.  They made clear their intention to draw Ukraine closer to Europe by signing an association agreement with the European Union.

Almost immediately thereafter, armed men began occupying key facilities and checkpoints on the Crimean peninsula.  Clearly professional soldiers by the way they handled themselves and their weapons, they wore Russian combat fatigues but with no identifying insignia.  Ukrainians called them “little green men.”  President Vladimir Putin at first flatly denied these were Russian soldiers, only to later admit that they were and award commendations to their commanders.

The sizeable Ukrainian military presence in Crimea stayed in garrison.  If shooting began, Kyiv wanted the world to see the Russians fire first.  Ukraine’s Western partners urged Kyiv not to take precipitate action.  Since many enlisted personnel in the Ukrainian ranks came from Crimea, Ukrainian commanders probably had less than full confidence in the reliability of their troops.

Things moved quickly.  By early March, Russian troops had secured the entire peninsula.  On March 6, the Crimean Supreme Council voted to ask to accede to Russia.  The council scheduled a referendum for March 16, which offered two choices:  join Russia or return to Crimea’s 1992 constitution, which gave the peninsula significant autonomy.  Those who favored Crimea remaining part of Ukraine under the current constitution had no box to check.

The conduct of the referendum proved chaotic and took place absent any credible international observers.  Local authorities reported a turnout of 83 percent, with 96.7 percent voting to join Russia.  The numbers seemed implausible, given that ethnic Ukrainians and Crimean Tatars accounted for almost 40 percent of the peninsula’s population.  (Two months later, a leaked report from the Russian president’s Human Rights Council put turnout at only 30 percent, with about half of those voting to join Russia.)

On March 18, Crimean and Russian officials signed the Treaty of Accession of the Republic of Crimea to Russia.  Putin ratified the treaty three days later.

Russian Claims

Moscow maintains a historical claim to Crimea.  The Russians colonized Crimea during the reign of Catherine the Great, and they founded Sevastopol—the peninsula’s main port and largest city—to be the homeport for the Russian Black Sea Fleet.  Following the establishment of the Soviet Union, Crimea was a part of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic until 1954, when it was transferred administratively to the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic.

It is also true that Crimea in 2014 had an ethnic Russian majority of about 60 percent—the only part of Ukraine where ethnic Russians constituted the majority.  But it is equally true that, when the Soviet Union collapsed in December 1991, the resulting independent states recognized one another in their then-existing borders.  Russia’s seizure of Crimea from Ukraine violated, among other agreements, the UN Charter, the 1975 Helsinki Final Act, the 1994 Budapest Memorandum of Security Assurances for Ukraine and the 1997 Treaty on Friendship, Cooperation and Partnership between Ukraine and Russia.

Moscow expressed concern about the fate of ethnic Russians in Crimea, but no evidence showed any threat to them.  The Russian government justified the referendum and annexation as an act of self-determination, though it appears that well less than half of the Crimean population actually voted to join Russia.  In any case, the Kremlin applies the principle of self-determination selectively; Moscow responded to the desire of Chechens for independence from Russia after the Soviet collapse with two bloody conflicts.

It appears that domestic politics provided one motive behind Putin’s decision to seize Crimea.  He returned to the presidency in 2012 with an economic situation much weaker than during his first two terms as president (2000-2008).  Instead of being able to cite economic growth and rising living standards, he based much of his reelection appeal on Russian nationalism.  Seizing Crimea in a quick and relatively bloodless operation proved very popular with the Russian public.  Putin’s approval rating climbed accordingly.

Crimea Today and Looking Forward

Crimea has undergone significant changes over the past six years.  A large number of ethnic Ukrainians and Crimean Tatars—some put the total at 140,000—have left the peninsula since 2014.  Crimean Tatars complain of intimidation and oppression as one reason for moving.  During the same period, some 250,000 people have moved from Russia to Crimea (Crimean Tatar leaders claim the influx is much larger).  The inflow has included troops and sailors, as the Kremlin has bolstered the Russian military presence on the peninsula, deploying new submarines, surface combatants and combat aircraft among other things.

The economic picture is mixed.  Trying to create a success story, Moscow has poured in more than $10 billion in direct subsidies as well as funding major construction and infrastructure projects, such as the highway and railroad bridges that now cross the Kerch Strait to link Crimea directly to Russia.  On the other hand, small business has suffered, particularly with the decline in tourism, which once accounted for about one quarter of Crimea’s economy.  Crimea also remains subject to a variety of Western economic and other sanctions.  It is probably fair to say that the reality of the economic situation today falls short of what many in Crimea expected, or hoped for, with Russia’s annexation.

The ongoing Russian-Ukrainian conflict in Donbas has pushed Crimea to the back pages, with Kyiv understandably focusing on trying to end that fighting, which claims the lives of Ukrainian soldiers on almost a weekly basis.  Still, while Donbas has meant far more dead than Crimea, Crimea’s seizure arguably has done as much, if not more, damage to the European security order.  A key premise of the 1975 Helsinki Final Act and subsequent documents was that state borders should be inviolable and not changed by force; Russia’s actions in 2014 shredded that principle.  That has caused unease among Russia’s other neighbors.

The Ukrainian government maintains that it will get Crimea back.  Analytically, it is difficult to see how Kyiv can muster the political, diplomatic, economic and military leverage needed to do so.  Perhaps the one possibility would be if Ukraine were to achieve dramatic success in growing its economy, both in absolute terms and relative to the Russian economy, to the point where Crimeans calculated that their living standards would be better off as part of Ukraine.  Moscow would likely fiercely resist that—just ask the Chechens—and, in any case, Ukraine’s economy has a long way to go.

Even if Crimea’s return appears implausible in the near term, the United States and Europe should continue to support Kyiv’s position, maintain Crimea-related sanctions on Russia, and hold to the policy of non-recognition of Crimea’s annexation.  Moscow should pay some price for its use of military force to seize the peninsula.  That’s the right thing to do for Ukraine, for the European security order, and for dissuading the Kremlin from trying land grabs elsewhere.

The West also should remember the case of the Baltic states.  For five decades, the United States and other European countries refused to recognize their incorporation into the Soviet Union.  For most of that time, the Baltics regaining independence seemed implausible…until it happened.

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