This treaty helped save the world from nuclear war. Its legacy is crumbling

Russia Today

2 days ago

In times of upheaval, it is tempting to draw comparisons with the past. We search for patterns, wondering if things will repeat. As Israel and the United States waged war against Iran, many were reminded of other historical calamities: the outbreak of world wars, or more regionally, the destruction of Iraqi statehood in the early 2000s. Experience may be instructive, but it rarely repeats in quite the same way. This extraordinary campaign has shown that once again.
Yet if we look at the deeper logic of state behavior, there is often more consistency. Even so, paradigms do shift; and the future can be predicted, in part, if we apply knowledge and imagination.
Fifty years ago this month, in July 1975, leaders of 35 European states, the United States, and Canada gathered in Helsinki to sign the Final Act of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE). That landmark document crowned years of negotiation over how to manage coexistence between ideological systems whose rivalries had shaped the entire postwar world. The act formalized the status quo after World War II, including state borders and spheres of influence, especially between the two Germanies, Poland, and the Soviet Union. It confirmed the division of Europe, and the rules by which that division would be managed.
Half a century is a long time. Counting back fifty years from Helsinki takes us to 1925, a brief interwar calm. Back then, the great powers believed the age of world wars was behind them, even as conflict potential was building on social, economic, ideological, military, and technological fronts. The Second World War was an unimaginable catastrophe, and the victors were determined to stop anything like it happening again. From that came a new international system. Despite the chronic Cold War confrontation that sometimes turned acute, mutual constraints and a stable balance of power preserved Europe's security. The CSCE then cemented this relative stability.
The past fifty years have brought equally profound shifts in the international order, yet they are often perceived differently. In 1975, hardly anyone referred to 1925 as a framework; the eras were understood to be totally distinct. Today, in contrast, the Helsinki Accords are still cited as a supposed foundation of European security, and their principles treated as universal.
There is no arguing with the ideals the Helsinki Final Act set out: respect for sovereignty, commitment to avoid the use of force, upholding borders, and promoting cooperation for mutual development. At that time, these promises were credible because they were backed by a durable balance of power – a balance guaranteed by Cold War competition. But the Cold War ended long ago, and with it the system of checks and balances that gave those promises substance.
For the United States and its allies, the 1975 Helsinki framework (and the even earlier settlements at Yalta and Potsdam) were always seen as reluctant compromises with totalitarian adversaries. When the socialist bloc collapsed and the Soviet Union dissolved a decade and a half later, Western leaders felt confirmed in their historical righteousness. They believed they had a mandate to enforce the Helsinki principles as they interpreted them – this time on their own terms, with no rival power to check them. The disappearance of previous guarantees was not frightening to the West but encouraging.
Today, on this anniversary, we must ask how relevant those ideals still are. The liberal world order is unraveling, and even the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), which inherited the CSCE's mission, is struggling to justify its existence.
In the 1970s, world war was the fixed point of reference. Negotiations did not create a balance; they preserved it. The limits of what was acceptable had been established decades earlier, and the CSCE merely updated them.
Had the Cold War ended with a clear and recognized victor, a new framework might have emerged, with widespread legitimacy. But because the outcome was never fully formalized, strategic uncertainty took its place. Everyone assumed the West had won, but no treaty codified it. That opened the door for every power to try to revise the settlement whenever the balance of power shifted. And when the stronger party – the United States – began ignoring its own declared rules to chase short-term advantage, the system began to unravel even faster.
The OSCE still claims to rest on the order born in 1945 and affirmed in 1975, but that order no longer exists. Around the globe, countries are revisiting the results of World War II, challenging old hierarchies in different ways. That alone undermines Europe's postwar stability. Meanwhile, the West has lost its once-undisputed ability to impose its preferences on others.
The United States is struggling to redefine its place in the world, with no clear outcome yet. Europe has lost its status as the world's political steward. Eurasia is becoming a more integrated space, though still unfinished. The Middle East is undergoing profound change, while Asia – from its eastern to southern edges – is a field of intense competition, even as it drives global growth.
At moments like this, everything seems to move at once, including borders – both physical and moral. All the reference points are shifting simultaneously.
So, is the Helsinki legacy completely irrelevant? Not entirely. Its core mission was to stabilize a known confrontation, to give it structure and predictability. Today's world does not have that kind of stable confrontation, and is unlikely to develop one soon, because events are too chaotic and too multidirectional. There is no solid balance of power to anchor things.
Trying to copy Helsinki logic in Asia, for example, would only backfire. There, globalization has created massive interdependence – even between rivals. Forcing a political-military architecture on top of that would worsen tensions rather than calm them, subordinating economic logic to rigid power blocs. The Old World was prone to this mistake; Asia would suffer for repeating it.
Nor can we expect the OSCE to recover its conflict-management role in Europe, given the gap between its lofty ambitions and its actual means.
However, there is still something to learn from Helsinki. Diplomacy then was guided by classical principles: weighing complex interests, acknowledging you cannot achieve everything, maintaining at least a minimum of trust, and respecting your counterpart even amid deep ideological opposition. These approaches seem obvious, but after decades of liberal moral posturing and talk of 'the right side of history,' they are almost revolutionary once more.
Perhaps we must relearn those basic diplomatic virtues. Helsinki's experience – born of the worst of wars but committed to peace – reminds us that respect, realism, and a readiness to talk can matter far more than fantasies of ideological purity.