JONATAN VSEVIOV ⟩ What will the world order be like?

Photo: Madis Veltman

• The war's end is near—a joy, if only we knew what kind of peace awaits.
• The world order is never upheld solely by ideas, goodwill, or agreements.
• Let us remain level-headed and not allow fear to paralyze us.

The world order is never upheld solely by ideas, goodwill, or agreements—it stands primarily on someone's power and the understanding of others that, in the absence of a better alternative, they must accept the status quo, Secretary General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Jonatan Vseviov said in his speech at Postimees' opinion leaders' luncheon, the topic of which this year was «Storm Warning: Walking on Thin Ice.»

Thank you, Priit! Esteemed ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, it is an extraordinary honor and a sincere pleasure to stand before you. In itself, it is a positive thing that Priit Hõbemägi does not know what I am about to talk about—it keeps the event authentic. You might find it slightly concerning that I do not yet know what I will talk about either, but that is no cause for worry. Let us go together; in the end, we will reach where we need to go.

Ladies and gentlemen, these are indeed dangerous times. We are walking on thin ice, as Priit Hõbemägi rightly pointed out. There are cracks forming beneath our feet, and the ice is groaning. A thousand kilometers to the south, some of our fellow travelers have fallen through, they have been pulled under, they are struggling. Some, in more distant regions, have been submerged for a long time, their heads no longer visible. Dangerous, dangerous times.

The most immediate expression of this danger is, of course, the war in Ukraine. It is nothing less than a conflict with existential consequences for us. You have undoubtedly heard both me and others describe it as existential. This war determines the future of European security—because wars shape security architecture. Will borders remain intact? Will territorial integrity and sovereignty still hold meaning? Or will brute force become the new norm, allowing the powerful to redraw borders and impose their will on neighbors?

At first, the war brought shock and dramatic events. But now, even in the news cycle, it is gradually fading into the background.

This war is existential for another direct reason: despite nearly three years of fighting, Putin has not changed his true objectives. He wants Ukraine—all of Ukraine. He seeks a fundamental reordering of Europe's security architecture, the rollback of NATO's military presence to pre-1997 lines, and the creation of a buffer zone in the region, which includes us.

Some who hear this talk of existential stakes may think the speaker is once again exaggerating. Yes, the initial phase of the war was dramatic. But now, it is slipping from the news. We have grown accustomed to it—what more could really happen? Maybe minor skirmishes here and there, but major changes mostly come after wars end. Think back to World War I, World War II, the Cold War. The same will happen this time.

The early changes brought by this war were indeed dramatic. The European Union, for the first time in its history, engaged in military aid. We imposed unprecedented sanctions. Finland and Sweden reversed their long-standing security policies and joined NATO. When the war ends, these fundamental questions will be on the table again. Decisions will be made once again.

What happens after the war?

There is a scent of war’s end, of peace, in the air. This could be a cause for joy if only we were certain what kind of peace awaits us. But we do not. That is precisely where our discussions about peace should focus today. Will it be lasting and just, or something else entirely?

To ensure peace endures, we must construct a framework that allows Ukraine to survive—one that guarantees economic sustainability, political stability, and security. Otherwise, Ukraine will simply disappear. After a ceasefire, Russia would soon resume its aggression. Even if, for some reason, it did not do so militarily, an abandoned Ukraine would face the same fate that would have befallen Western Europe had the United States withdrawn after World War II—without the Marshall Plan, without NATO, without support for European integration. Democracies would have collapsed, the Kremlin's sphere of influence would have expanded, and the result would have been the same as if it had been achieved through military conquest under the red flag.

Promises have been made before. That is why this time, special attention must be paid to ensuring that any guarantee given to Ukraine is credible.

The best guarantee of economic development and democratic stability in this region is, of course, European Union enlargement, with candidate countries meeting the necessary requirements. Naturally, this is not a perfect guarantee. As an EU member, we are well aware of its flaws and weaknesses, and the process takes an enormous amount of time. Accession will not happen overnight. Therefore, Ukraine will need transitional economic support to bridge the gap between its current state and future EU membership. For the sake of time, I will not go into great detail about economic stability and political sustainability—because these are only possible if Ukraine's security is guaranteed. The essence of this guarantee is the promise to defend Ukraine if necessary.

Promises have been made before. That is why this time, special attention must be paid to ensuring that any guarantee given to Ukraine is credible. In addition to a politically binding commitment, a legally binding guarantee must also be considered. However, history has shown that even this alone is not enough. Even words enshrined in a treaty and validated by signatures remain just words in the end. They must be upheld, and security can only be ensured by real forces that must exist—and some of those forces must be present on the ground, carrying the message that the guaranteed party is not alone and that, if necessary, others will go to war on its behalf.

No European country is strong enough to guarantee Ukraine's security alone if Russian aggression were to recur.

Naturally, it is clear today that the United States, particularly under President Trump, will not create the security guarantee Ukraine needs on our behalf—nor likely even conceive of it for us. Europe must therefore take some kind of role, possibly even a leading one. At best, we can get the Americans to contribute, filling critical gaps in the guarantee and supporting us with their own actions. But Europe cannot avoid its responsibility in shaping this security guarantee.

At the same time, no European country is strong enough to guarantee Ukraine's security alone if Russian aggression were to recur. The necessary military forces simply do not exist. Even a small group of European states would not be sufficient. At minimum, it requires the majority of Europe and US support. This means we are talking about something multinational, or if you prefer, multi-state. In such structures, it is crucial that the command system be as robust and reliable as possible—with plans in place for both daily operations and as well as in case Russia decides to test the guarantee militarily. These plans cannot be limited to operations within Ukraine's territory; they must also account for the worst-case scenario, where larger forces from the West would need to come to the aid of troops in Ukraine.

A multinational security guarantee with a robust command system and serious planning. Ladies and gentlemen, such a system already exists. It is called NATO. This is exactly how NATO provides security for its allies today, just as it did during the Cold War when it was necessary to ensure Western Europe's security. Yes, NATO expansion can take time. Even under the best circumstances, it involves political debates—not only at the government level but also parliamentary ratifications, which, as we saw with Finland and Sweden, proved to be not just time-consuming but also fraught with hesitation and doubt.

But we do not have time. Security guarantees for Ukraine must take effect as soon as the weapons fall silent. The discussions that have recently emerged in Europe regarding these guarantees are therefore either timely or, at worst, already too late—but by no means too early. It is true that these debates are still taking place behind closed doors, involving governments and think tanks, but not yet in the institutions established to discuss Europe's fundamental security issues. Not yet at NATO's table. Some of the blame for this lies with the extreme caution of the previous US president regarding NATO and the ongoing war. Hopefully, the new president will show more decisiveness in this regard.

How to achieve a position of strength?

Only once we ourselves know what kind of long-term security guarantee, economic framework, and political stability we want for Ukraine—and how much we are willing to contribute to it—can we begin to discuss how to bring Putin to the negotiating table. He will not come simply because we ask nicely. To get him there, we must first establish a position of strength.

Convincing Putin in the short term that time is on Ukraine’s and the West’s side is the real measure of establishing a position of strength.

The only serious way to assess this position of strength is to ask whether we believe—or more precisely, whether he believes—that time is no longer working in his favor. It is broadly understood that, in the long run, time is not on Russia's side. Considering Russia's demographic, economic, political, and even military situation, and imagining a prolonged confrontation with a still-united West lasting years or even decades, there is little positive outlook for Russia. However, in the short term—over weeks or perhaps months—it is much harder even for us to be certain that we can endure, that we will stay the course, and that we have the strength to continue doing everything we have done so far, or even more.

Convincing Putin in the short term that time is on Ukraine's and the West's side is the real measure of establishing a position of strength. It is more important than whether the front line shifts one way or another—though, of course, it would be beneficial if it moved in the opposite direction from where it stands today. It is even more critical than whether we have implemented every last available sanction, though that too matters. The key question is whether we can convince him that time is consistently working in our favor.

At some point, of course, negotiations will happen. And when they do—whether we want it or not—the discussion will not be limited to Ukraine's fate alone. That is only natural. After all, these negotiations will mark the end of a great war—a war larger than anything this continent has seen since World War II. It is understandable, human, and natural that in ending a great war, there will also be an attempt to prevent another from starting.

If we enter those negotiations without a position of strength and without a clear understanding of what we ourselves want to achieve—or worse, if we sit at the table with Putin and try to determine together what Ukraine's future security, political stability, and economic sustainability should look like—these negotiations will end in failure or disaster. Putin undoubtedly knows what he wants—to reshape Europe's security architecture under the pretext of addressing the so-called root causes of the war. That is why the order of steps we take now is crucial.

Estonia, of course, is making every effort to convince its allies on both sides of the Atlantic to follow the right sequence of actions. Whether we will succeed remains to be seen. There is concerning talk of Western fatigue, of the urgency of negotiations, of the need to reach them quickly—all of which weakens our position of strength and undermines the very arguments that could bring Putin to genuine negotiations. The discussion about the substance of security guarantees is still taking place mostly in the background, more tentatively than through concrete planning.

The new world order

At the same time, there is reason for cautious optimism. Despite everything, the latest signals from Washington are rather encouraging. Decision-makers there—or, more precisely, the key decision-maker—seem to broadly understand the logic I have described. They recognize the importance of maintaining a position of strength, of defining their own objectives clearly, and they do not appear to be rushing into a deal with Putin within the first 24 hours or even the first hundred days, relying solely on personal charisma.

How this will actually unfold remains uncertain. And in uncertain times, small nations instinctively cling to whatever they can—the world order, established rules, institutions. But even here, dark clouds are forming. World order is never upheld solely by ideas, goodwill, or agreements—it stands on someone's power and on the understanding of others that, in the absence of better alternatives, they must accept the status quo. For some time now, it has been evident that these «others» are no longer willing to simply accept it. They are dissatisfied with their place in this order, with their role, with their power, and they are challenging the established world of agreements more openly than ever.

Recent news makes it clear that even the United States, whose power has upheld this world order, may no longer wish to defend it. The shift away from free trade principles and multilateral institutions is likely just the first indication of a broader trend that could lead to the disintegration of the existing world order.

Looking ahead, two broad scenarios are possible. One is that someone steps in to replace the United States. Such a power would need enough strength to establish dominance and inevitably reshape the world order in its own image. I do not consider this a likely scenario. The second possibility is that the existing order collapses, with nothing substantial taking its place—at least for some time. Instead, we would see regional organizations forming here and there, temporary coalitions of the willing, shifting in response to changing political and other circumstances. The result: instability, turbulence, upheaval—all of which are particularly dangerous for small nations.

In turbulent times, it is wise to fasten one's seatbelt. For us, that seatbelt has always been and will continue to be our democracy—the way we govern ourselves. But even here, storm clouds are forming. Let us take a moment to look back at the mid-to-late 19th century, a period of massive change. Firstly, industrialization transformed how people worked, bringing rural populations into cities. Secondly, mass media revolutionized how people consumed news. These changes were not superficial; they led to the emergence of new ideologies, shaking societies to their foundations. Those who failed to adapt disappeared—and relatively quickly. Combined with geopolitical tensions, this period ultimately led humanity into World War I and then World War II.

Looking at our world today, it is clear that change is happening again. Allow me to suggest that two fundamental shifts are underway. Firstly, the technological revolution is transforming how we work. We do not yet know exactly how much will change, but we are likely still at the beginning of this transformation. Secondly, in the social media era, the way we receive and consume news has already changed. Postimees likely has plenty of firsthand experience to share on this.

Let us not forget—we are walking on thin ice. Too much commotion, and we could fall through.

If the past has any predictive value, then I dare say that these changes will once again shake us to our core in the 21st century. Some will disappear. Those who survive will be the ones who can adapt, who remain flexible, who do not cling to the past, who engage in debate, who constantly seek better ways to renew themselves—without tearing each other apart in the process. Because let us not forget—we are walking on thin ice. Too much commotion, and we could fall through.

What should we do? I offer three recommendations. Firstly, keep a clear head and do not let fear paralyze you. To paraphrase a quote attributed to Winston Churchill: «If you're going through hell, keep going.» If you're walking on thin ice, keep walking—do not stop. Secondly, do not lose focus—stay committed to the core goal: ensuring that aggression does not succeed, that Estonia remains part of Europe, and that Europe itself endures. And thirdly, demand responsibility and careful, well-thought-out actions from ourselves and our leaders—not empty words, not frantic gestures. If we do this, everything will turn out fine. Thank you!