Washington is making unexpected overtures to Moscow. In February, the United States opposed a United Nations resolution that condemned the Russian invasion of Ukraine and reaffirmed Ukraine’s territorial integrity. Just one week later, Washington halted the delivery of all military aid to Kyiv. This seven-day gap between the U.N. vote and the halt in aid marked a dramatic pivot in U.S. foreign policy – one that seems to signal a transition from containment of Russia to rapprochement with Russia.
At the heart of this shift is a calculated effort to drive a wedge between two of Washington’s greatest geopolitical adversaries: Beijing and Moscow. The belief that the United States can fracture – or “un-unite” – the deepening China-Russia partnership is rooted in memories of the Cold War, leading policymakers to craft a “reverse Kissinger” strategy. Nevertheless, the “reverse Kissinger” is a bad case of applied history, which fails to grapple with different geopolitical contexts.
U.S. analysts and policymakers fear deepening ties between China and Russia. Whether they charge the relationship an “axis of autocracies,” an “axis of upheaval,” or even an “axis of losers,” analysts and policymakers note that Beijing and Moscow share a common desire to challenge U.S. interests and overhaul world order. This phenomenon was underscored by their declaration of a “friendship” with “no limits” in early February 2022. Shortly thereafter, Kremlin forces invaded Ukraine and China began to provide a steady supply of dual-use technologies to furnish Russia’s war machine. As Ambassador Robert D. Blackwill and Richard Fontaine argued, “Given Russian and Chinese power, ambition, and collaboration, rising to the challenge they pose to the existing international system poses a generational task for U.S. policymakers.”
To tip the balance of power in the United States’ favor, strategists have looked to history – specifically the Richard Nixon administration – for guidance. In 1971, National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger secretly traveled to Beijing and met with Chairman Mao Zedong, signaling the beginning of rapprochement. With a strong NATO alliance on Russia’s western flank and a hostile China to its east, the Kremlin drained financial and military resources to secure itself, placing the United States in a favorable position.
The idea of a “reverse Kissinger” urges U.S. officials to seek rapprochement with Moscow to weaken Beijing’s position. As China constitutes “the most potent and dangerous near-peer adversary this nation has ever confronted,” this strategy calls on U.S. officials to channel their inner Kissinger and forge cordial relations with the Kremlin. This would – so the argument goes – drive a wedge between Beijing and Moscow, subsequently creating a favorable balance of power for the United States.
Historical metaphors are captivating tools that enable policymakers to think through the challenges they face and the policy choices at their disposal. But bad history can produce bad policy, and as such, it is essential to re-explore the Sino-Soviet split.
In 1950, China and the Soviet Union appeared to forge a permanent brotherhood with the signing of their Treaty of Friendship, Alliance, and Mutual Assistance. But Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin’s death reshaped the relationship. His successor, Nikita Khrushchev, began his de-Stalinization campaign in 1956. Historian Sergey Radchenko observed that Mao was driven by a desire for dominance and subsequently challenged Soviet leadership of the Communist world. Just two years later, Mao claimed China would overtake the Soviet economy with the Great Leap Forward and attempted to prove himself the superior strategist during the Taiwan Strait Crisis.
In 1959, tensions flared over the Sino-Indian border clash, and in 1962, the Chinese publicly criticized the Soviets for standing down during the Cuban Missile Crisis. For the remainder of the decade Beijing and Moscow jockeyed for influence over Vietnam. Sino-Soviet animosity erupted in 1969, when Chinese and Soviet soldiers exchanged gunfire along their border.
The folly of the “reverse Kissinger” is that it misremembers Kissinger’s role. The former U.S. national security adviser did not split China and the Soviet Union by initiating rapprochement with Mao. Frictions in the alliance – notably, a shared drive for domination and the competition for leadership – ripped the fellow travelers apart; it was not the result of a carefully crafted wedge strategy in Washington. By the time Kissinger secretly met with Mao in 1971, the split had already occurred. Kissinger’s virtue was thus his opportunism: his ability to recognize the split and to use it to advance the U.S. national interest.
Grab a sheet of paper and draw a line down the center of the page, Richard Neustadt and Earnest May counseled anyone reasoning by historical metaphor. On one side, write all the “likenesses”; on the other, all the “differences.” Neustadt and May’s exercise illuminates the limitations or failures of a chosen metaphor.
The differences from the 1971 case are stark. Moscow has not publicly challenged Beijing for dominance; they are not virulently struggling for leadership of an anti-U.S. coalition; and they have not fought a bloody border conflict.
This is not to say that China and Russia will not split again in the future. In fact, they remain highly ambitious and Moscow’s growing dependence on Beijing may foster resentment. But until China and Russia compete for dominance and leadership, the U.S. desire to wedge the revolutionary powers remains a delusion.