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Russia’s latest warnings over Kaliningrad present a familiar problem in an increasingly pointed form. In late September, Russian diplomatic statements warned that attempts to isolate the exclave could bring a nuclear response. NATO rejected the suggestion that it was threatening Russian territory. On 1 October, Vladimir Putin said a direct attack would put the use of Russia’s entire arsenal on the agenda.[1][2]
The response was almost as significant as the warning. Asked about the Russian message on 30 September, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte said, “I don’t take this that seriously”, while also explaining that the alliance had replied.[3]
That exchange does not prove that NATO has become indifferent to nuclear danger. Public confidence can itself be strategic messaging. But it raises a consequential question: what happens when warnings intended to inspire caution increasingly invite dismissal?
The evidence supports a qualified answer. Nuclear threats can fail to prevent particular actions without losing all deterrent value. Repeated unsuccessful warnings may encourage further challenges, but there is no established rule that repetition produces indifference, or that indifference necessarily increases nuclear risk. Indeed, recent public-opinion research provides evidence that Russian threats still influence attitudes towards military assistance to Ukraine.[4]
The danger is more specific: governments may correctly conclude that one nuclear warning was coercive, then incorrectly assume that another warning—issued under materially different circumstances—must also be empty.
What, exactly, has stopped working?
Deterrence seeks to prevent an action: attack us, and you may face unacceptable retaliation. Compellence seeks to make an adversary act: withdraw, surrender territory, or change policy, or face punishment. Both belong to the broader practice of coercion, but they impose different demands on credibility.[5]
Threatening nuclear retaliation against an attack that could destroy a state is comparatively understandable. Threatening nuclear war to obtain a limited diplomatic concession raises an obvious question: would the threatening government really accept the consequences?
Todd Sechser and Matthew Fuhrmann’s historical and quantitative research challenges the assumption that possessing nuclear weapons provides a general advantage in compellent diplomacy. Their findings support distinguishing the ability to protect vital interests from the ability to force others to comply with political demands. The wider scholarly debate remains contested, including over how coercive success should be measured.[6]
This distinction complicates claims that Russia’s nuclear threats have “failed”. A warning intended to discourage a particular weapons delivery can fail even while fear of escalation continues to discourage direct NATO–Russia combat.
NATO’s refusal to establish a no-fly zone over Ukraine in March 2022 illustrates the difference. Jens Stoltenberg explained that enforcement would require fighting Russian aircraft and could produce a much wider European war. This demonstrates restraint over direct intervention, although it cannot establish how much restraint resulted from nuclear weapons rather than conventional risks and other considerations.[7]
Nor does continued Western assistance prove that threats achieved nothing. Assistance might have arrived earlier, in greater quantities, or with fewer restrictions without escalation concerns. That counterfactual cannot be observed directly.
Losing confidence in nuclear rhetoric is therefore not necessarily the same as losing respect for nuclear capability.
Habituation, or sensible learning?
“Nuclear-threat fatigue” can describe several processes that should not be conflated.
People may become emotionally accustomed to repeated warnings. Governments may revise their estimates after threatened consequences fail to materialise. Military planners may identify options that appear to remain below an adversary’s threshold. Journalists may give familiar statements less attention.
Only the second and third necessarily involve a judgement about strategic credibility. Reduced anxiety, reduced coverage, and reduced deterrence are different outcomes.
Learning from restraint can be sensible. If a government repeatedly associates limited actions with catastrophic consequences, but responds through conventional or diplomatic means, its opponents gain evidence that its public language overstates its immediate willingness to escalate.
The analytical error comes when that lesson becomes universal. Restraint after a weapons shipment does not establish restraint after attacks on national leadership, nuclear command systems, or forces essential to retaliation. Different stakes can produce different decisions.
Even an apparently ignored warning is ambiguous. Perhaps the threatening state was bluffing. Perhaps its threshold was never reached. Perhaps private warnings, military precautions, or diplomatic intervention prevented escalation. Perhaps its leaders considered nuclear use and rejected it.
William Burns captured this tension in September 2024. The then CIA director said there had been a genuine risk of potential Russian tactical nuclear use in autumn 2022, while arguing that the West should not be unnecessarily intimidated. He also described conveying consequences directly to his Russian counterpart.[8]
That is evidence against treating every warning as theatre. It is also evidence against treating concern about nuclear escalation as a reason for automatic compliance.
The response was almost as significant as the warning. Asked about the Russian message on 30 September, NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte said, “I don’t take this that seriously”, while also explaining that the alliance had replied.[3]
That exchange does not prove that NATO has become indifferent to nuclear danger. Public confidence can itself be strategic messaging. But it raises a consequential question: what happens when warnings intended to inspire caution increasingly invite dismissal?
The evidence supports a qualified answer. Nuclear threats can fail to prevent particular actions without losing all deterrent value. Repeated unsuccessful warnings may encourage further challenges, but there is no established rule that repetition produces indifference, or that indifference necessarily increases nuclear risk. Indeed, recent public-opinion research provides evidence that Russian threats still influence attitudes towards military assistance to Ukraine.[4]
The danger is more specific: governments may correctly conclude that one nuclear warning was coercive, then incorrectly assume that another warning—issued under materially different circumstances—must also be empty.
What, exactly, has stopped working?
Deterrence seeks to prevent an action: attack us, and you may face unacceptable retaliation. Compellence seeks to make an adversary act: withdraw, surrender territory, or change policy, or face punishment. Both belong to the broader practice of coercion, but they impose different demands on credibility.[5]
Threatening nuclear retaliation against an attack that could destroy a state is comparatively understandable. Threatening nuclear war to obtain a limited diplomatic concession raises an obvious question: would the threatening government really accept the consequences?
Todd Sechser and Matthew Fuhrmann’s historical and quantitative research challenges the assumption that possessing nuclear weapons provides a general advantage in compellent diplomacy. Their findings support distinguishing the ability to protect vital interests from the ability to force others to comply with political demands. The wider scholarly debate remains contested, including over how coercive success should be measured.[6]
This distinction complicates claims that Russia’s nuclear threats have “failed”. A warning intended to discourage a particular weapons delivery can fail even while fear of escalation continues to discourage direct NATO–Russia combat.
NATO’s refusal to establish a no-fly zone over Ukraine in March 2022 illustrates the difference. Jens Stoltenberg explained that enforcement would require fighting Russian aircraft and could produce a much wider European war. This demonstrates restraint over direct intervention, although it cannot establish how much restraint resulted from nuclear weapons rather than conventional risks and other considerations.[7]
Nor does continued Western assistance prove that threats achieved nothing. Assistance might have arrived earlier, in greater quantities, or with fewer restrictions without escalation concerns. That counterfactual cannot be observed directly.
Losing confidence in nuclear rhetoric is therefore not necessarily the same as losing respect for nuclear capability.
Habituation, or sensible learning?
“Nuclear-threat fatigue” can describe several processes that should not be conflated.
People may become emotionally accustomed to repeated warnings. Governments may revise their estimates after threatened consequences fail to materialise. Military planners may identify options that appear to remain below an adversary’s threshold. Journalists may give familiar statements less attention.
Only the second and third necessarily involve a judgement about strategic credibility. Reduced anxiety, reduced coverage, and reduced deterrence are different outcomes.
Learning from restraint can be sensible. If a government repeatedly associates limited actions with catastrophic consequences, but responds through conventional or diplomatic means, its opponents gain evidence that its public language overstates its immediate willingness to escalate.
The analytical error comes when that lesson becomes universal. Restraint after a weapons shipment does not establish restraint after attacks on national leadership, nuclear command systems, or forces essential to retaliation. Different stakes can produce different decisions.
Even an apparently ignored warning is ambiguous. Perhaps the threatening state was bluffing. Perhaps its threshold was never reached. Perhaps private warnings, military precautions, or diplomatic intervention prevented escalation. Perhaps its leaders considered nuclear use and rejected it.
William Burns captured this tension in September 2024. The then CIA director said there had been a genuine risk of potential Russian tactical nuclear use in autumn 2022, while arguing that the West should not be unnecessarily intimidated. He also described conveying consequences directly to his Russian counterpart.[8]
That is evidence against treating every warning as theatre. It is also evidence against treating concern about nuclear escalation as a reason for automatic compliance.
