Pale hulls painted with “China Coast Guard” cut the waters around Taiwan, the Philippines, near Alaska, and across the deep blue of the Pacific. Such actions are not, however, common patrols so much as sublimated aggression to which the world has become habituated.  

Overt invasions, military aggression, and acts of war are unacceptable in today’s world order. Such actions undermine the legitimacy of foreign policy, leaving only the exercise of power. To preserve at least some international legitimacy, nations therefore pursue aggression in a more undeclared manner. China and Russia best exemplify this in their maritime operations. The coordination of these powers in this aggressive grey-zone policy reflects a larger shift in how the world applies legitimacy and force.  

The China Coast Guard (CCG) and the Border Service of the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB) function primarily as domestic forces, tasked with serving state security and sovereignty, while upholding legal precedents through their internal authority. Their actions, however, have been less about policing than about perpetration. In 2018, the CCG shifted its official status from the People’s Armed Police to the Central Military Commission, giving it authority to enforce laws in areas under Chinese jurisdiction that statutes do not clearly define. It is authorized to use all necessary means to prevent any infringements of sovereignty or jurisdiction. As a result, it acts like a military force in the region. Since 2023, it has expanded its operations, reaching as far as the Aleutian Islands and the waters around Alaska.  

The following year, Chinese Coast Guard Regulation No. 3 was implemented, allowing the detention of foreign nationals suspected of border violations and the detention of ships in Chinese territorial waters. The USINDOPACOM legal team assessed this development as the first document permitting CCG detention and emphasized the vagueness of the territory in question. In February 2026, CCG activity in the Taiwan Strait increased, underscoring, on the law’s fifth anniversary, “institutionalized control in sensitive maritime areas.” CCG deployments spiked, reaching 933 ship-days in the first six months of 2026. The following months were no less eventful, with CCG operations expanding east of the main Taiwan island and into outlying islands.  

Additionally, 2026 saw striking aggression in both diplomacy and physical action between China and the Philippines, as CCG cutters blockaded Philippine resupply ships to the grounded military outpost BRP Sierra Madre in September 2026. This followed high diplomatic tensions preceding Chinese claims to the Batanes and surrounding waters, increased military presence and operations, including an incident in which Chinese personnel struck a Filipino sailor with a baton, as well as the persistent harassment of fishing boats by the CCG. Japan Coast Guard data records Chinese vessel activity in the Senkakus’ region on 357 of 365 days in 2025, with a constant presence spanning 335 days, from November 2024 to October 2025, with over 1,300 vessels recorded in the region. Japan’s Naha Coast Guard director said Chinese vessels have grown increasingly aggressive, while Japan has not acted to deter them, given that China operates more than twice as many coast guard vessels as Japan and is more heavily armed. Such aggressive actions pose clear threats that require a response; however, the long, slow build-up of involvement has become habitual.  

Russia’s gray-zone aggression tactics parallel those of China, particularly around the Baltic and the Gulf of Finland, as well as in the Pacific. Japan Coast Guard figures from 2006 cite Japanese boats and crews seized near Hokkaido, 30 of which occurred between 1994 and 2005, including a fisherman injured by Russian Coast Guard fire. The legal frameworks established in the case of China are reflected in Russia as well, as the 2024 Defense Ministry decree proposed revising baselines that bind Russia’s territorial limits in the Gulf of Finland and Kaliningrad. Finland, Estonia, and Lithuania objected. Days later, Russian border guards removed nearly half of the navigation buoys established by Estonia, an act the EU deemed a hybrid action by Moscow. In May 2026, the head of the FSB Border Service accused Estonia of shifting away from agreements regarding Lake Peipus and the Narva River, a framing used to justify Russian actions as defensive rather than aggressive. When Estonia tried to halt the shadow-fleet tanker Jaguar, Russia responded with a fighter jet. Russia then detained ships, such as the Greek Green Admire, as it left the Estonian Sillamäe port.  

On land and on the river, the border service role is clearer. A Russian coast guard cutter flew a Wagner banner on the Narva in early November 2025, and on December 17, 2025, three Russian border guards entered Estonian territory near the breakwater where the Narva meets Lake Peipus for about 20 minutes; Estonia’s interior minister said it was unclear whether the incursion was intentional. This year, the FSB also imposed temporary restrictions on movement, hunting, and river access along a five-kilometer strip on its side of the border, citing frontier security, through September 2026.  

Overall, Russia and China have acted in gray-zone regions using aggressive tactics that skirt overt aggression, while projecting power in international waters. They have justified these maritime actions under legal, albeit deliberately vague, frameworks, ultimately expanding not only Russia’s and China’s reach but also their justification for force. 

Jack Lindstrom is a Junior Researcher at the Mackinder Forum, conducting research on geopolitics and security in the Indo-Pacific and the Arctic. He also founded Arctic Ledger and is a member of the San Diego World Affairs Council Writer Corps. Views expressed in this article are the author’s own. 

White Hulls, Gray Zones: China, Russia, and a Habituated World was originally published on Global Security Review.

The Narva River separates Narva from the Russian city of Ivangorod, where a historic Swedish castle faces a Russian fortress built by Ivan III in 1492. Walking through the streets of Narva, one might easily believe they were in Russia, were it not for the Estonian street signs breaking the facade. Here, many Russian residents from the Soviet era, known as “grey passport” holders, still live without Estonian citizenship. Efforts to remove Soviet monuments have fueled anger amongst the local population in what remains an overwhelmingly Russian-speaking area.

Many in the Riigikogu (Estonia’s parliamentary body) view efforts to remove monuments across the country as a way of moving on from painful symbols of oppression. Tens of thousands of Estonians were imprisoned or deported to Siberia during the Soviet occupation, many of whom died in captivity. Many community members of Russian descent consider this to be an unnecessary cleansing of history, especially concerning monuments dedicated to Soviet soldiers killed in the “Great Patriotic War” of WWII.

A Soviet T-34 tank that stood in honor of fallen Soviet casualties was controversially removed in August of 2022. The monument, which stood against the banks of the Narva River, was left covered in flowers by residents and eventually relocated to the Estonian War Museum. I was in Narva during the months leading up to the removal of the tank and heard the Russian perspective firsthand from the people I lived with. This, however, was not the first-time parts of Estonia had struggled with identity issues.

Riots swept through the capital city of Tallinn in 2007 over the relocation of a Soviet monument known as the Bronze Soldier. Now known as Bronze Night, the unrest led to over 100 injuries and the deadly stabbing of an ethnic Russian, as well as Russian cyberattacks that brought Estonian government, banking, and news sites offline.

Events like these placed Estonia directly in the Kremlin’s sights, where it has remained ever since. While I was living in Narva in the summer of 2022, Putin remarked that Narva, Estonia’s third-largest city, was historically Russian and “would need to be ‘taken back’.” These comments drew immediate ire from many politicians, but more importantly, they preceded a series of provocations by the Kremlin against Estonian sovereignty that intensified through 2025.

On an early morning in May 2024, nearly half of Russia’s buoys marking the border in the Narva River disappeared after their unexpected removal by Russian border guards. Estonian officials and media interpreted this as a threat against their statehood. This incident led to an increase in accidental border crossings by fishermen in the Narva River, particularly in sections where buoys had been removed. Later, on December 17th, 2025, Russian border guards themselves crossed the border near Narva, perhaps accidentally. Moreover, Russian aircraft breached Estonian airspace for 12 minutes in September 2025, prompting NATO to quickly scramble aircraft in response. This was consistent with the common Russian tactic of testing NATO’s response times and military capabilities while also making a strong statement toward their adversaries. Earlier in the same month, Estonia’s Baltic neighbor, Latvia, reported that a Russian military drone had crash-landed in Latvian territory.

If a pattern of recurrent airspace violations is not enough, Russia has adopted a new tactic of unorthodox warfare by using shipping vessels to cut internet cables in the Baltic Sea. These incidents made headlines around the world and have continued to plague EU and NATO officials to this day. As recently as December 31st, 2025, a vessel was seized by the Finnish Border Guard after dragging its anchor across the Baltic seafloor, cutting a cable between Helsinki and Tallinn.

It is unsurprising that Putin has held a special grudge against Estonia, considering the nation’s unwavering support for Ukraine after Russia’s 2022 invasion. Adjusted for GDP, Estonia has been among the most dedicated providers of military aid to Ukraine. The country has also handled many refugees, some of whom, by my own experience, include military-aged males fleeing the war. These refugees have been somewhat successfully encouraged to assimilate into host communities and learn the Estonian language.

After multiple tumultuous years in a row, Narva highlights the contrast in opinion between ethnic Estonians and many of their fellow ethnic Russian citizens. On the banks of the Narva River, the celebrations of Victory Day on May 9th set the stage for one of the more bizarre scenes of 2025. A Russian holiday celebrating the defeat of Nazi Germany in 1945 drew crowds on both sides of the river for the third straight year.

Supportive cheers erupted from many in Narva’s crowd during the celebrations in Ivangorod across the river, despite a massive banner protesting Putin hanging in the background on the walls of Narva Castle. Estonia may not support Putin, but feelings of identity in this Russian-speaking city are undeniably complicated. Just months after Narva residents gathered on the riverbank to celebrate with their neighbors across the border, Estonia began work on concrete defensive bunkers near the Russian border in December 2025, as part of the planned Baltic Defense Line to prepare for armed conflict.

Given Estonia’s cultural divide, which benefits Kremlin propaganda, it is vital the EU and Tallinn prevent Russian claims of marginalization from gaining credibility. Policies phasing out Russian-language schools have strained relations in Narva, but Estonia’s efforts to protect its heritage are legitimate. To enhance social cohesion and ensure security and human rights, Estonia should invest in inclusive initiatives that value Russian communities, recognizing that descendants of Soviet-era immigrants are not responsible for Estonia’s colonization.

After the American Civil War, Ulysses S. Grant took steps to address past wrongs but recognized that former Confederate states must rejoin American democracy for lasting peace. Estonia has made significant efforts to redress past injustices by gaining independence. The new generation of Russians must assimilate, but more initiatives are needed. The Kremlin has used the situation to foster a narrative of marginalization, resonating with frustrated Russian Estonians. The government must reconcile with young Russian speakers to ensure peace, sovereignty, and stability for Estonia.

Chris Sproesser is a student at the University of South Carolina’s McCausland College of Arts and Sciences, focusing on economics and Russian studies. He has previously been published by The Yale Review of International Studies. The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

An Identity Crisis in Europe’s Russian Frontier was originally published on Global Security Review.