For the first time in years, there are faint signs that US-Russia relations may improve, or at least be prevented from sinking further into a dangerous spiral. Even modest progress, such as recent top-level talks, matters because the decline in ties between the two largest nuclear powers has been one of the gravest threats to world peace. This moment offers an opportunity not only for cautious optimism but also for remembering the many voices within the United States that tried, often against great odds, to warn their country away from a path of escalating hostility.
These were not fringe voices. They included some of the most respected diplomats, scholars, and even retired officials deeply familiar with US strategic interests. Their warnings stretched back decades. Long before the Ukraine war erupted, they had argued that the eastward expansion of NATO ignored Russia’s legitimate security concerns and endangered the fragile stability achieved at the end of the Cold War. Yet, these warnings were brushed aside, drowned out by the triumphalism of a unipolar moment and the hubris of policymakers convinced that pushing NATO closer to Russia’s borders would come without cost.
To understand their perspective, one must revisit the end of the 1980s, when the unification of Germany and the weakening of the USSR dominated world diplomacy. Western leaders assured Soviet officials that NATO would not move “one inch” eastward if Moscow accepted German unification. Jack Matlock, then US ambassador to the Soviet Union, later recalled these assurances clearly, even if they were not written into a treaty. Nevertheless, in the years that followed, NATO expanded again and again—14 new members were added, stretching the alliance thousands of miles eastward.
Russia saw this not only as a betrayal but as a creeping encirclement. Even Boris Yeltsin, Washington’s preferred leader in the 1990s, opposed NATO’s advance. William Burns, the US ambassador in Moscow at the time and later CIA director, warned that opposition to NATO expansion united Russians across political divides. Despite this, American leaders pressed forward.
Some of the clearest early opposition came from within the US itself. In June 1997, 50 senior foreign policy experts—former senators, military officials, diplomats, and scholars—sent a letter to President Bill Clinton describing NATO expansion as a “policy error of historic proportion.” They warned it would fuel instability in Europe, embolden authoritarian forces in Russia, and plant the seeds of future conflict. Jack Matlock, testifying before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, called it the most serious strategic blunder since the Cold War’s end.
Still, Washington ignored them. In 2008, President George W. Bush pushed for NATO membership for Georgia and Ukraine, over strong Russian objections and even the reservations of some US allies and intelligence agencies. John Mearsheimer, the University of Chicago scholar, later observed that “all the trouble in this case really started in April 2008,” when Bush made this announcement, knowing Russia viewed it as an existential threat.
What followed was a worsening cycle of mistrust. The US became increasingly entangled in Ukraine’s domestic politics, openly backing the 2014 revolution that removed a government opposed to NATO membership. For Moscow, this confirmed long-held fears: NATO’s expansion was not about abstract security principles but about actively undermining Russian influence in its own neighborhood.
Yet even in those tense years, American experts kept warning that this trajectory was not only reckless but unnecessary. Mearsheimer dismissed claims that Putin sought to restore the Soviet empire as convenient inventions of the US foreign-policy establishment. Rajan Menon and Thomas Graham advised Washington to stave off war by agreeing to a long moratorium on NATO expansion. Jeffrey Sachs urged compromise on NATO “to save Ukraine,” while Anatol Lieven repeatedly pressed for a neutral Ukraine that could serve as a bridge between East and West rather than a flashpoint.
The most striking fact is how consistent these warnings were over decades. George Kennan, widely regarded as the architect of containment, foresaw in 1997 that NATO expansion would inflame Russian nationalism, derail its democratic transition, and push its foreign policy in hostile directions. His words now read like prophecy.
Peace groups in the United States also raised their voices. In October 2022, more than 100 organizations, including Code Pink, Peace Action, and Physicians for Social Responsibility, issued a joint statement urging President Biden to end US brinkmanship with Russia. They reminded Washington of the promises made in 1990 and warned that the crisis “could easily spiral out of control to the point of pushing the world to the precipice of war.” Just days later, anti-nuclear demonstrations were held across 20 states, calling not only for de-escalation but also for renewed arms control agreements, a no-first-use doctrine, and an end to the dangerous practice of keeping nuclear weapons on hair-trigger alert.
These warnings did not emerge from naïve idealism. They reflected hard-headed realism about the risks of cornering a nuclear-armed adversary and about the failure of a strategy that sought to expand military alliances instead of building inclusive security frameworks. As Jack Matlock put it in February 2022, on the eve of war, “What Putin is demanding is eminently reasonable.” His point was not to endorse Moscow’s every move but to stress that security is indivisible: one side’s quest for absolute security can become the other side’s existential threat.
Unfortunately, US presidential politics has rarely given space for such perspectives. Campaigns often drown in soundbites and posturing, with urgent issues of nuclear risk and diplomacy sidelined. A handful of independent candidates such as Emanuel Pastreich tried to keep the peace message alive, but mainstream politics largely ignored it.
This long history shows that the descent into confrontation with Russia was not inevitable. At every stage there were Americans—diplomats, scholars, and citizens—who foresaw the dangers and called for restraint. They urged diplomacy, mutual accommodation, and arms control. They were ignored. And the result has been a war in Ukraine, a new Cold War, and the ever-present danger of nuclear escalation.
Today, as tentative steps toward dialogue emerge, remembering these voices is not an exercise in nostalgia. It is a reminder that alternative paths were always available—and still are. Peace is not weakness; it is the only rational course when the stakes involve human survival itself. The lesson of the past three decades is clear: ignoring those who speak for peace comes at a terrible cost. The hope now must be that recalling their wisdom can strengthen the cause of diplomacy before it is too late.
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The writer is Honorary Convener, Campaign to Save Earth Now. His recent books include Planet in Peril, Protecting Earth for Children, Man over Machine, Earth Beyond Borders, and A Day in 2071
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