There Is No Buffer Zone
July 2, Lithuanian parliamentary parties agreed to abolish the constitutional prohibition on nuclear weapons and foreign military bases. President Nausėda said, "Geopolitical situation is deteriorating," and "Our constitution was written in a completely different situation." This constitutional provision had been maintained for 36 years since regaining independence from the Soviet Union in 1990. 7% of GDP for defense spending, preparation for a permanent German brigade, and the repeal of the strictest anti-nuclear clause since NATO accession. These three steps converge in one direction. The buffer zone is no longer a buffer zone.
On the same day, the Belarusian Security Council urged its citizens to refrain from traveling to Russia. This came shortly after a Belarusian tourist bus was struck by a drone in the Bryansk region. On June 17, a bus carrying a Belarusian youth football team was hit in the same region, killing a coach. Russia claims it was a deliberate attack by Ukraine, while Ukraine calls it a Moscow-staged false flag. Regardless of the truth, the result is clear: Russia's closest ally is publicly telling its citizens, "Don't go to Russia." The same ally, whose territory Russian forces used to advance on Kyiv in February 2022, is now saying this four and a half years later.
In Poland, Prime Minister Tusk stated ahead of the NATO summit in Ankara that Poland should be cautious about additional financial support for Ukraine. The rationale was that "Poland has a heavy responsibility of defending the EU's eastern border." Meanwhile, U.S. intelligence warned Poland that Russia could carry out a military provocation within months — including missile and drone attacks from Kaliningrad or Belarus, and even a ground invasion scenario. Warsaw feels threatened on one hand, and on the other, is beginning to recognize the material limits of support. This is a double pressure.
These three events are the manifestation of one historical force in different terrains. As the war exceeds four and a half years, the effect on buffer zones has shifted from quantitative enhancement to qualitative transformation. It's not just increasing defense spending by a few percentage points but rewriting the constitution itself. Not just adding more barbed wire at the border but telling allied citizens not to enter allied territory. The prolongation of war is collapsing the geopolitical concept of a buffer zone itself. A buffer is not a permanent equilibrium but a temporary suturing of contradictions. When contradictions exceed a certain threshold, the suture tears.
Lukashenko's dilemma most clearly encapsulates this collapse. His schedule on June 29 — meeting Putin and then immediately flying to Beijing to see Xi Jinping — is an extension of the survival tightrope analyzed two years ago. But the tension on the rope has qualitatively changed. Back then, it was about using the China card to withstand Russia's pressure to join the war. Now, he has reached a stage where he must publicly warn his citizens not to go to Russia. The alliance is formally maintained, but its substance is being eroded. Beijing says it supports Belarus's sovereignty, but that is not a declaration to replace Moscow; it is a signal to counter Moscow's absorption of Belarus. Lukashenko's living space is shrinking between two empires.
None of this is a distant European story for the Korean Peninsula. Our buffer zone is none other than ourselves. The ROK-U.S. alliance has incorporated South Korea into the buffer zone of the imperialist order, while North Korea, not being absorbed into the U.S.-led imperialist order, has occupied the status of an anti-imperialist buffer zone. Both sides have occupied the same status of a buffer zone in different directions. But as Europe's experience proves, the historical time of buffer zones is ending. Look at Lithuania amending its constitution, Belarus reexamining the substance of its alliance, and Poland recognizing the material limits of support. Arguments that justify the perpetuation of the division system with buffer zone logic are increasingly losing relevance, as Europe's reality shows. The question is the direction and subject of collapse: not a collapse managed by empires, but a unification led by the working class.
On the same day, the Belarusian Security Council urged its citizens to refrain from traveling to Russia. This came shortly after a Belarusian tourist bus was struck by a drone in the Bryansk region. On June 17, a bus carrying a Belarusian youth football team was hit in the same region, killing a coach. Russia claims it was a deliberate attack by Ukraine, while Ukraine calls it a Moscow-staged false flag. Regardless of the truth, the result is clear: Russia's closest ally is publicly telling its citizens, "Don't go to Russia." The same ally, whose territory Russian forces used to advance on Kyiv in February 2022, is now saying this four and a half years later.
In Poland, Prime Minister Tusk stated ahead of the NATO summit in Ankara that Poland should be cautious about additional financial support for Ukraine. The rationale was that "Poland has a heavy responsibility of defending the EU's eastern border." Meanwhile, U.S. intelligence warned Poland that Russia could carry out a military provocation within months — including missile and drone attacks from Kaliningrad or Belarus, and even a ground invasion scenario. Warsaw feels threatened on one hand, and on the other, is beginning to recognize the material limits of support. This is a double pressure.
These three events are the manifestation of one historical force in different terrains. As the war exceeds four and a half years, the effect on buffer zones has shifted from quantitative enhancement to qualitative transformation. It's not just increasing defense spending by a few percentage points but rewriting the constitution itself. Not just adding more barbed wire at the border but telling allied citizens not to enter allied territory. The prolongation of war is collapsing the geopolitical concept of a buffer zone itself. A buffer is not a permanent equilibrium but a temporary suturing of contradictions. When contradictions exceed a certain threshold, the suture tears.
Lukashenko's dilemma most clearly encapsulates this collapse. His schedule on June 29 — meeting Putin and then immediately flying to Beijing to see Xi Jinping — is an extension of the survival tightrope analyzed two years ago. But the tension on the rope has qualitatively changed. Back then, it was about using the China card to withstand Russia's pressure to join the war. Now, he has reached a stage where he must publicly warn his citizens not to go to Russia. The alliance is formally maintained, but its substance is being eroded. Beijing says it supports Belarus's sovereignty, but that is not a declaration to replace Moscow; it is a signal to counter Moscow's absorption of Belarus. Lukashenko's living space is shrinking between two empires.
None of this is a distant European story for the Korean Peninsula. Our buffer zone is none other than ourselves. The ROK-U.S. alliance has incorporated South Korea into the buffer zone of the imperialist order, while North Korea, not being absorbed into the U.S.-led imperialist order, has occupied the status of an anti-imperialist buffer zone. Both sides have occupied the same status of a buffer zone in different directions. But as Europe's experience proves, the historical time of buffer zones is ending. Look at Lithuania amending its constitution, Belarus reexamining the substance of its alliance, and Poland recognizing the material limits of support. Arguments that justify the perpetuation of the division system with buffer zone logic are increasingly losing relevance, as Europe's reality shows. The question is the direction and subject of collapse: not a collapse managed by empires, but a unification led by the working class.