By Uriel Araujo, InfoBrics, 8/28/26

As the BRICS summit approaches in New Delhi [this] month, the bloc is moving steadily beyond rhetoric on financial cooperation. According to Sanjay Malhotra, the Governor of the Reserve Bank of India, member countries are discussing ways to link their instant payment systems and central bank digital currencies, or CBDCs, to make cross-border transactions faster and cheaper.

The idea sits among several options under debate and remains at an early stage, yet it points to a practical effort to reduce reliance on traditional channels dominated by the US dollar and Western infrastructure.

BRICS has long talked about greater use of national currencies in trade. What is different now is the focus on concrete technical links. Brazil’s Pix, India’s Unified Payments Interface, and similar systems in other members already process enormous volumes domestically. Connecting them could facilitate cross-border payments in local currencies while reducing the need for multiple intermediaries and potentially lowering transaction costs.

CBDCs offer another route, potentially enabling faster and more direct cross-border settlement between participating financial institutions and central banks. As a matter of fact, India has already built cross-border payment ties with the UAE and is exploring similar arrangements with other partners.

Iran has added its own proposal to the mix: Central Bank Governor Abdolnasser Hemmati called for a dedicated BRICS “financial corridor” and the integration of national payment networks. He argued that linking these systems and expanding the use of national currencies would cut reliance on external financial channels, raise transaction speed, lower costs, and improve security for trade among members. Iran has already begun examining the technical, legal, and operational aspects and stands ready to help draft a roadmap.

Washington is watching closely. US officials for one thing have flagged the Brazilian Pix as a concern, citing it in trade disputes and arguing that it disadvantages American payment providers.

Brazil’s Pix, launched in 2020, has become one of the world’s most successful instant-payment platforms, used by roughly 80% of the population and accounting for more than half of all payment transactions in Brazil. Moreover, the Brazilian Central Bank has signed cooperation agreements with dozens of countries interested in replicating the model.

Unsurprisingly, the success of a public, low-cost system draws attention – when Western private card networks have long dominated international payments.

The broader context to these developments includes the growing weight of the Global South in the world economy and the search for alternatives to a system that has proven vulnerable to sanctions and political pressure.

As I’ve recently noted, US record debt levels have now surpassed $40 trillion. Combined with the use of dollar-centered financial infrastructure as a tool of economic sanctions, this creates additional incentives for other countries to develop parallel payment and settlement arrangements – a dynamic that can also be understood in the context of the so-called Triffin Dilemma.

The broader “BRICS Pay” concept, aimed at facilitating interoperability among national payment systems, fits into this pattern. It aims to facilitate direct cross-border settlement without necessarily relying on the dollar as an intermediary currency or on Western-dominated financial messaging infrastructure such as SWIFT – a system notoriously vulnerable to weaponizable or geopolitically-motivated sanctions.

On that point, it suffices to highlight, for one thing, how a number of major Russian banks have been barred from using SWIFT, over the its campaign in Ukraine, whereas Israeli institutions have not – despite UN reports on genocide amid Israel’s operations in Gaza.

In any case, the effort is pragmatic rather than “revolutionary” or anti-Western. India, which holds the BRICS presidency this year, has framed the discussion around cost reduction and efficiency rather than open confrontation with the dollar system.

The summit is reportedly more likely to advance payment linkages than to declare a full-scale de-dollarization campaign. Be that as it may, even incremental steps matter. Linking systems that already work at scale can gradually shift trade patterns, especially among members that account for a substantial share of global GDP (measured by purchasing power parity).

Thus far the discussions have stayed largely technical. Options include bridges between fast payment networks and interoperability among CBDCs. No common infrastructure has been approved, and timelines remain open. Yet the direction is clear enough. Countries that once accepted the costs and delays of dollar-mediated trade are exploring routes that would keep more of the process under their own control.

In doing so, they can strengthen monetary sovereignty without needing to come up with a single BRICS currency overnight.

Assessments from within the bloc note that dependence on external systems carries risks. Sanctions, restricted access, and rising transaction costs have certainly pushed members to look inward for solutions.

These shifts suggest that the current international financial architecture is not the only workable option for emerging economies

Underreported in much of the Western press is just how quickly practical cooperation is advancing on the ground – from bilateral payment links to multilateral proposals like Iran’s financial corridor idea.

The September [12th – 13th] summit in New Delhi will therefore test how far these talks can move from discussion to further commitments. Finance ministers and central bank governors are expected to refine proposals beforehand.

Whether the outcome is a formal BRICS Pay framework or a series of bilateral and plurilateral connections, the underlying trend continues. In the context of an expanding BRICS+ grouping, member nations are building the tools to settle more of their trade on their own terms. In a world where financial infrastructure doubles as geopolitical leverage, that is a significant development, with implications that are only beginning to unfold.

Substack, 8/17/26

Professor Geoffrey Roberts, one of Britain’s leading historians of Soviet and Russian history, recently took part in an academic conference on Russophobia held as part of the annual cultural festival in Pskov, Russia.

The discussions there, and our subsequent conversation, offer a clear-eyed look at a phenomenon – Russophobia – that has intensified dramatically since 2022.

One striking difference emerged immediately between western and Russian participants at the conference.

Russian participants tended to view Russophobia as a deep-rooted cultural feature of the West, particularly Britain, stretching back two centuries to Russia’s emergence as a great power after the Napoleonic Wars.

Western speakers, including Roberts, saw it as far more contingent and episodic — a political instrument that surfaces when it serves a purpose and can recede just as quickly.

Roberts argues that today’s Russophobia is primarily an elite phenomenon.

It thrives in the Westminster bubble, among sections of the media, the intelligence services, the defence industry and the chattering classes.

Ordinary people are often more open-minded. Taxi drivers still express genuine curiosity about life in Moscow rather than reflexive hostility. Public opinion has proved remarkably resistant to years of daily propaganda; the extreme narrative has failed to mobilise a durable popular majority for confrontation.

Within the elite itself there are different strands: a large “herd” that follows the prevailing narrative for career reasons; those with financial or institutional interests in keeping the confrontation alive; and a smaller group of true believers.

The late Lord Robert Skidelsky, whose writings on Russophobia formed the basis of Roberts’ own paper in Pskov, described it as a ready-made repertoire of stereotypes and attitudes that can be activated when political circumstances demand.

Its current intensity is instrumental — it helps mobilise support for Ukraine and for the West’s proxy war against Russia.

History suggests such episodes can reverse rapidly.

Britain and Russia fought as allies in both world wars.

The anti-Soviet version of Russophobia collapsed with surprising speed under Gorbachev.

Roberts remains cautiously optimistic that a negotiated end to the war in Ukraine would undermine the extreme forms of Russophobia and open space for more pragmatic voices. Without an end to the fighting, however, the instrumental value of the narrative remains high.

The conversation also touched on deeper strategic realities.

You cannot fight a war by committee.

Russia’s more centralised decision-making and industrial capacity have allowed it to adapt and sustain the conflict, while Western policymakers continue to underestimate Russian resilience and overestimate the prospects of Ukrainian victory or regime collapse in Moscow.

The result is a prolonged, self-defeating policy that has already cost Ukraine dearly and eroded the legitimacy of European governments at home.

Roberts’ message is ultimately a hopeful one. Most people in any country want peace. Ending the war would not only stop the bloodshed; it would also deprive Russophobia of its most powerful current fuel and create the conditions for a more rational relationship between Russia and the West.

In the meantime, moderate, evidence-based voices remain essential.

You can watch the full conversation here:

YouTube link here.

The Leipzig Incident Has All The Hallmarks Of A False Flag

By Andrew Korybko, Substack, 9/1/26

It was carried out to justify the German economy’s evolution to war footing, distract from the resultant problems, and legitimize a future serious escalation against Russia.

Germany blamed Russia for last month’s incident in Leipzig when one explosives-laden drone was found on the tarmac in proximity to Ukrainian cargo planes, another reportedly collided with a separate cargo plane as it tried to land but failed to explode, and a third was later found close to the premises. Putin condemned their claim, shared his opinion that it was a false flag due to them planting evidence, and speculated that the motive was to distract from domestic problems by fearmongering about Russia.

While skeptics might roll their eyes, the Leipzig incident has all the hallmarks of a false flag. For starters, Germany is implying cartoonish incompetence on the part of Russia. The public is supposed to believe that the most skilled drone operators in the world, who were tasked with what would have been the most sensational Hybrid War attack on NATO ever, left a drone on the tarmac, got unlucky when another failed to explode after it hit a landing cargo plane, and left another nearby. That’s difficult to believe.

The second point to make in support of Putin’s hypothesis is that something similar happened last fall when unknown drones forced major airports in Scandinavia to temporarily ground all flights. Zelensky predictably blamed Russia and called for closing the Danish Straits to its shipping. As with the Leipzig incident, no evidence was ever shared in support of that claim, but it served as the precedent to blame Russia for mysterious drone-related incidents in Europe in order to justify more escalations against it.

And finally, while Zelensky’s proposed escalation ultimately never came to fruition (most likely to avoid a hot NATO-Russian war), an escalation of some sort might follow the Leipzig incident. It was argued here in late August that NATO would expect to gain more from a serious escalation with Russia than the inverse, which could take the form of resuming summer’s failed drone campaign against Russia at scale indefinitely in pursuit of its deindustrialization and demilitarization. That might be attempted next year.

Observers should remember that Germany, which is now Ukraine’s second-most-important military patron behind the US, reached a deal in the spring to develop Ukraine’s deep-strike capabilities. Its economy is also getting on war footing as Germany rapidly remilitarizes in furtherance of its goal to command Europe’s largest army ahead of the EU’s prediction of a possible war with Russia around 2030. This has proven unpopular with voters, however, ergo the need to justify it through the Leipzig incident.

To recap the explanation of Putin’s false flag hypothesis, last fall’s Russian drone scare in Scandinavia served as the pretext for blaming the Kremlin for future such incidents without evidence, which Germany has now done with the Leipzig one. The narrative of Russian drone operators’ incompetence is difficult to believe, however, but it’s still being pushed to justify the Germany economy’s evolution to war footing, distract from the resultant problems, and legitimize a future serious escalation against Russia.

As was written, this could take the form of resuming summer’s failed drone campaign against Russia at scale indefinitely in pursuit of its deindustrialization and demilitarization, but that risks crossing Russia’s nuclear threshold per its updated doctrine. At the very least, Putin would once again mildly “escalate to de-escalate” against Ukraine, but there’s always a chance that everything spirals out of control. It would therefore be best for Germany to eschew escalation just like the Scandinavian states ultimately did.

***

In an interview with Hsan Ünal, Prof. Geoffrey Roberts (approx. 42 minute mark) speculates that Trump sent CIA Director John Ratcliffe to Moscow to provide Putin with super-sensitive info about a possible assassination attempt and to assure him that this had nothing to do with the United States. Interesting theory – haven’t heard it anywhere else. Tell me what you think of this theory in the comments.

YouTube link here.

By Fred Weir, Christian Science Monitor, 8/13/26

For more than a century, Kazakhstan was ruled from Moscow – first under the Russian Empire and later the Soviet Union.

Even decades after independence, it still hardly ever challenges its powerful northern neighbor.

Until now.

At a regional cooperation forum last month, Kazakhstan President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev appealed directly to Russian President Vladimir Putin to end Russia’s 4 1/2-year war with Ukraine. Appearing to depart from scripted public remarks, he declared that the reasons for the war “are not clear to many, including us.”

He went on to suggest that “perhaps it’s time to freeze this conflict.”

While Mr. Putin looked visibly annoyed and dismissed the idea, the rare public dissent illustrated a changing balance between Russia and post-Soviet Central Asia. Once dismissed as periphery states by Russia, they are gaining more of a say, based on geopolitical and economic realignment.

Kazakhstan, the largest landlocked country in the world, might feel empowered enough to speak plainly to Mr. Putin because of Russia’s deepening economic dependence on Central Asia. The costs of the war are also threatening its own oil exports. Kazakhstan’s main oil terminal on the Black Sea – which is at the Russian port of Novorossiysk, some 540 miles from Kazakhstan’s border – has had to close several times because of Ukrainian drone strikes on tankers, though Ukraine has now reportedly agreed to stop targeting non-Russian tankers. Oil exports make up about 35% of Kazakhstan’s gross domestic product.

“Kazakhstan is feeling the costs of this ongoing war, and that’s likely the main reason he spoke out now,” says Grigory Mikhailov, a Central Asia specialist who edits a newsletter on the region’s economy. “We don’t know the extent of the damages, but it’s likely to be hundreds of millions of dollars already.”

The moon rises over D Island, a man-made offshore oil-processing hub in the Caspian Sea off the southern coast of Kazakhstan, Aug. 21, 2013. Oil exports make up 35% of Kazakhstan’s gross domestic product.

It illustrates the growing complexities affecting Moscow’s relations with some of its closest partners, especially Kazakhstan, the largest and richest of the five former Soviet republics of Central Asia.

The mainly Muslim and largely Turkic-speaking region was part of the Russian Empire and the U.S.S.R. until the Soviet collapse in 1991, but since independence also looks toward China and the West. While some of the new states have partially reduced their former dependence on Russia, Kazakhstan remains a core member of all three key Russia-led alliances created to keep former Soviet republics in Moscow’s orbit.

Almost all of the nine countries that now form one of them, the Commonwealth of Independent States, oppose Russia’s war with Ukraine. Only Belarus has backed the conflict. Some, such as Armenia and Moldova, have even expressed support for Ukraine.

Most, however, have tried to maintain a delicate balancing act by declaring neutrality, while also enforcing some Western-imposed sanctions against Russia, and continuing warm political and profitable economic relations with Moscow. Kazakhstan has played a key role helping Russia sidestep sanctions and channel investments from abroad.

Mr. Tokayev’s departure from protocol was limited, and he subsequently stressed his allegiance to Moscow. But Andrei Suzdalstev, an independent Moscow-based political expert, suggests that the Kazakh leader was probably speaking for many in the region.

“No CIS member has shown any enthusiasm for the war,” he says. “It’s clear that Tokayev is not alone. The same questions are being raised, quietly, in other places.”

Experts describe Kazakhstan and Russia as economically “interdependent,” sharing infrastructure, mutual investment, and a huge trade turnover of $28 billion. The two countries share the world’s second-longest land border – almost 5,000 miles – and travel between them is visa-free. Opinion polls show majorities in both countries have a positive attitude toward the other, though feelings for Russia have noticeably cooled in Kazakhstan. In a 2023 poll by MediaNet and PaperLab, nearly one-third of Kazakhs said their perception of Russia has worsened because of the war.

In recent years, China has become Kazakhstan’s top trading partner, mainly due to sales of oil and raw materials, but Russia remains the country’s top security and political partner.

“I do not see any large-scale competition between Russia and China in Kazakhstan,” says Alexander Knyazev, an expert at the MGIMO University Institute for International Studies in Moscow, which trains Russian diplomats. “Moscow and Beijing are capable of maintaining their interests at a mutually acceptable level.”

Petr Svoik, former deputy chair of the Kazakh opposition Azat party, says that at least for the time being, the Russian-Kazakh relationship will remain stable. “No matter how you look at it, Kazakhstan depends crucially on Russia. The relationship is tight, and functions on the level of strategic partnership. … But as for the ruling elite, their hearts lie mainly in the West. They understand the necessity of good relations with Russia, but materially and mentally they are pro-Western.”

The war in Ukraine and sanctions against Russia have increased Kazakhstan’s importance as a provider of oil and other raw materials to Europe, a position that the war’s expansion to ports on the Black Sea is now threatening.

Other wars, in Afghanistan and now Iran, have stymied the hopes of Central Asian countries to build southward transport routes that would expand their trading opportunities to the Indian Ocean and beyond. That strengthens their continued dependence on both Russia and China, experts say.

So, while Kazakhstan and others might be emboldened, they are also maintaining traditional links and trying to avoid the fallout of war.

“In the view of Central Asian elites, the world is going crazy,” says Mr. Mikhailov. “In this situation, the minimum task is to stay out of the geopolitical storm. The maximum is to balance interests, extract benefits where possible, and to stay strong until things normalize.”

YouTube link here.