A bridge burned over four islands

A SHORT archipelago of rocky islands that neither side visits, let alone inhabits, has been turned into the most serious diplomatic rupture between Russia and Japan in decades. The trouble is not that the dispute over the Kurils is new. It is that Vladimir Putin, who has ruled Russia for more than a quarter of a century, has until now avoided travelling there. His decision to go, followed swiftly by a naval missile exercise in sight of Hokkaido, was not an accident of scheduling. It was a signal that Russia's president intends to draw a line under the territorial question and test whether Japan's newly hawkish government can act as boldly as it speaks.

The chronology was almost certainly deliberate. On August 13th, Mr Putin visited Iturup, the largest of the four southern Kuril Islands, which Japan calls its "Northern Territories". It was the first such visit by a Russian president; Dmitry Medvedev had been the only other leader to set foot there, touring the islands four times between 2010 and 2015. The date was chosen with care: just two days before the 81st anniversary of Japan's surrender at the end of the Second World War, when the Soviet Union seized the archipelago in its final days of fighting. A week later, Russia's Pacific Fleet conducted live-fire drills off the same coast. The guided-missile cruiser Varyag launched Vulkan anti-ship missiles; the nuclear submarine Omsk fired Granit cruise missiles; a Bastion coastal battery on one of the islands added Oniks missiles to the exchange. All targets, the fleet reported, were hit. The exercise is scheduled to run until August 29th and involves more than 13,000 servicemen, 60 warships and 30 aircraft.

Japan's reaction was immediate and fierce. Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi called the visit "absolutely unacceptable" and warned that it would harden public opinion and make the restoration of relations more difficult over the medium to long term. The Foreign Ministry lodged a strong protest. Russia responded by summoning Japan's ambassador in Moscow and declaring that its sovereignty over the islands is "inviolate" and "unshakable". Deputy Foreign Minister Mikhail Galuzin told the envoy that Moscow "reserves the right to take appropriate countermeasures". As of February this year, the Kremlin had already declared relations with Japan reduced to "zero" and confirmed that no peace-treaty dialogue was under way.

The dispute is old. Under the 1951 San Francisco peace treaty, Japan renounced the Kuril chain but never accepted Soviet, now Russian, control of the four southernmost islands. Russia has administered them as part of the Sakhalin region since 1945. The islands stretch roughly 1,200km from Russia's Kamchatka peninsula to Japan's Hokkaido; the strait between the southern group and the Japanese mainland does not freeze in winter, giving Russia's Pacific fleet year-round access to the ocean. They also sit atop rich fishing grounds and potential mineral deposits. Control matters for reasons of strategy, resources and prestige.

Yet the deeper question is not about geography but leverage. Japan's posture under Mrs Takaichi is among the most hawkish in the country's post-war history. Her government has nearly doubled defence spending, acquired long-range missile capabilities and sharpened its security ties with America, Britain, Australia and the European Union. In her inaugural address to parliament this year, she indicated that Tokyo remained keen on resolving the territorial issue and concluding a peace treaty. Her snap election in February was partly an attempt to turn a popular honeymoon into a mandate for strategic change.

To be sure, Mrs Takaichi's government has genuine reasons to stand firm. Russia's deployment of anti-air missile systems on the islands in 2020, and again in 2022, was a clear provocation. The Kremlin's espionage network operating in Japan has been described as extensive. And the broader regional threat picture has darkened: Japan's latest defence white paper now describes Russian-Chinese cooperation as a "deepening strategic partnership". From a deterrence point of view, a strong line is coherent.

The trouble is that Japan's energy dependency complicates every hard choice it makes. The country imports 90% of its petroleum and much of its liquefied natural gas through narrow maritime chokepoints. With the Strait of Hormuz disrupted by the ongoing Iran conflict, those supply lines are more fragile than at any time in recent memory. Against that background, Japan has continued to buy Russian energy. In June 2026, Japanese LNG imports from Russia rose 6% year-on-year to 4.718 million tons. Japan imported 9% of its total LNG from Russia and holds an American-sanctioned exemption for Sakhalin-2 supplies, extended until December this year. It began importing Russian petroleum in May. Russia sees this as leverage; Japan sees it as survival.

The contradiction is not uniquely Japanese. Many Western allies have struggled to balance sanctions enforcement with energy reality. But for Tokyo, the hypocrisy is especially galling because it is precisely the country that claims a territorial grievance against Moscow while simultaneously paying it for gas. The sanction exemption, granted by Washington and renewed twice, reflects American recognition that Japan cannot easily afford a full energy break. It also means that any escalation on the Kurils risks drawing America into a side theatre where its strategic interest is at best indirect.

From Mr Putin's perspective, the calculus is straightforward. The Kurils are one of the few remaining points of bilateral friction with a G7 member that he can exploit without triggering NATO involvement. Japan's public sensitivity around the islands, its energy vulnerability and its dependence on American goodwill create a narrow band in which Russian pressure looks aggressive but does not provoke a meaningful response. Timing the visit near the anniversary of Japan's surrender, ahead of Russia's September elections and against the backdrop of a wider Pacific Fleet exercise, maximises domestic messaging while minimising the risk of retaliation.

It is tempting to think that Japan's hard line will eventually yield diplomatic dividends. Mrs Takaichi has signalled a desire for a peace treaty. A future Russian government, perhaps under different leadership, might find the islands negotiable. Yet the structural incentives are stacked against that outcome. For Moscow, the Kurils have ceased to be a bargaining chip and have become a trophy. They provide military access, economic resources and a domestic-symbolic win. Surrendering any of the four islands would look like weakness to Russian audiences and would set a precedent for territorial concessions that Mr Putin, who has annexed territory elsewhere, has no interest in establishing.

A wiser Japanese strategy would separate the symbolic from the practical. The four islands are unlikely to return to Japanese control in any foreseeable political climate. But that does not mean Tokyo has nothing to do. It should press ahead with its defence build-up, strengthen its alliance architecture and reduce its energy exposure to the Strait of Hormuz and, where possible, to Russian supplies. Diversifying LNG sources and accelerating domestic renewables would take the pressure off the Sakhalin exemption and reduce the leverage that Moscow, however indirectly, enjoys. On the Kurils themselves, a more pragmatic approach would acknowledge that quiet management of the status quo, rather than loud insistence on sovereignty, is the only realistic path to avoiding further escalation.

The dispute over the Kuril Islands was supposed to be the bridge to a peace treaty. It has become a bridge burned by both sides. Japan's hawkishness is understandable but structurally compromised by energy vulnerability. Russia's aggression is limited but precisely targeted at those vulnerabilities. The result is a stalemate in which neither side's rhetoric matches its capacity to deliver. The islands will stay where they are. The question is whether the diplomatic cost of pretending otherwise continues to outweigh the benefits of accepting reality.