Dangerous Overheating
Updated: Sep 25
by Alexander Piroznikov, PhD
Foreign Policy Analyst & Expert in Eastern European Affairs
On 17 September 2026, the prospect of a military conflict between NATO and Russia appeared significantly closer — at least judging by the avalanche of reactions on Western social media to the high-profile statements of Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk and French President Emmanuel Macron. The reaction was largely prophetic and panicky in tone. It amplified their remarks with unverified claims, subjective interpretations and contestable conclusions, creating a sense that a Russian attack was imminent.
This shows an important fact: what Western politicians say about escalation — and how they say it — now matters for national security as well as for politics. In an open information environment, their statements can be lifted out of context, sharpened and turned against the very societies they are meant to warn.
How this mechanism operates is the subject of this article.
Three aspects of the situation described warrant particular attention:
the assessment of the nature and probability of the threat,
the effectiveness of official communication intended to inform about this threat,
the specific reaction on social media.
Nature of the Threat: Severe, Known and Bounded
This is not the first time either politician has spoken of imminent Russian aggression against the EU in very clear terms. As early as April 2026, Donald Tusk told the Financial Times that Russia might attack a NATO member within a matter of months[1]. Emmanuel Macron publicly expressed similar views, speaking at a conference in Copenhagen on 2 October 2025[2]. The latest remarks therefore refine scenarios that had already been set out.
Similar assessments had also been offered repeatedly by Western intelligence officers and officials. For example, on 21 July 2026 Polish Defence Minister Władysław Kosiniak-Kamysz said that Russia was planning a large-scale “false-flag” drone attack on EU territory and called for preparation for “the most challenging scenarios” [3].
In judging the nature and probability of the threat, both Tusk and Macron rely chiefly on already known facts and on analytical assessments by the intelligence services.
In his address to the Sejm[4], for instance, Tusk devoted considerable attention to recent strikes near the Polish border: on the Kyiv–Warsaw train on Ukrainian territory and on Ukrainian petrol stations close to the Polish–Ukrainian frontier.
The speech did not mention, though it plainly took into account, earlier incidents as well: a Russian Kh-101 missile that came down on 30 July in Lublin Voivodeship[5], and Russian drones — one recovered on 14 September from a beach at Rusinowo, near Jarosławiec[6], and another shot down over Lithuania on 15 September.
The rising frequency of incidents is indeed a clear marker of escalation — even if primarily a quantitative one. In qualitative terms, equally or even more serious episodes had already taken place in Poland in 2024 and 2025.
On the night of 9–10 September 2025, around two dozen Russian drones violated Polish airspace; some penetrated deep into the country, and Poland initiated consultations under Article 4. In the spring of 2024, a series of arson attacks occurred, including the destruction of the Marywilska 44 shopping centre, which the Polish authorities later linked to the activities of the Russian special services. In November 2025, on the Warsaw–Lublin line — a supply route to Ukraine — railway tracks were blown up and infrastructure was damaged.
The other facts cited by Tusk concern the course of the war between Ukraine and Russia. They do not in themselves prove an imminent Russian attack on Poland or NATO, though they warrant close attention. These facts include Russia’s extensive use of new jet-powered drones and its effort to secure a decisive advantage over Ukraine in the winter of 2026–27. Suitable means and a plausible motive do lend rationality to the hypothesis that further escalation is intended.
In his public remarks[7] on 18 September, Emmanuel Macron likewise referred mainly to publicly known information: the drone incident at Leipzig airport, the attack on the Kyiv–Warsaw passenger train, the firing of an illuminating flare near a Danish frigate, airspace violations over several European states, and the growing number of hostile acts inside the EU. He also drew on French intelligence reporting that treats hybrid and cyber-attacks as a real possibility. The reference to cyber-attacks is the primary material difference between Macron’s and Tusk’s threat assessments.
A further difference lies in how they frame scenarios.
Unlike the Polish prime minister, Macron does not present drone and missile strikes as the most likely course of events. He uses highly abstract language — for example, “no one is safe”.
Tusk, by contrast, treats hybrid missile and drone attacks on those EU states that support Ukraine most actively as “the most plausible scenario”. In his account, the hybrid character of such attacks makes them appear accidental, so as to avoid triggering Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty. If Article 5 is then not invoked, allies may conclude that it “does not work”. This scenario, however, has significant constraints — and creates risks — for Russia itself.
First, plausible deniability holds only if the attacks look irregular and accidental. They can neither become repetitive, nor can they be surgical and precisely targeted.
Second, the response of the NATO state that is hit need not be confined to calls for Article 5. It may be asymmetric, remaining below the threshold of conventional war, placing Moscow in a bind: inaction would look like weakness; a further step up the ladder would supply NATO with additional evidence of aggressive intent.
As for the substance of such asymmetric replies, EU governments are already developing a new approach to cybersecurity, covering both effective responses to cyber-attacks[8] and proactive measures[9].
Therefore, the scenario of Russian escalation against the EU described by the Polish prime minister is realistic because it rests on established quantitative markers of escalation. But in the form presented it has a natural upper bound. Within it, Russia is not capable of inflicting serious damage on key Polish security infrastructure, nor of interrupting supplies to Ukraine.
To disrupt supplies to Ukraine, a far more effective measure for Russia would be to destroy railway infrastructure on Ukrainian territory, where Moscow does not face the constraint of a NATO collective-defence response.
Consequently, the threat of escalation is significant in both severity and likelihood, but it is neither new nor does it imply an open military conflict. Moreover, because the potential for such escalation has an upper bound, it remains well within the defensive capabilities of Poland and NATO and allows for an accordingly firm message.
Official Communication: Anxiety over Confidence
Compressed to its core message, however, Tusk’s speech yields a less firm and confident picture:
Russia has grown stronger and intends to launch large-scale strikes against — for now — Ukraine. The most plausible development includes “accidental” Russian strikes on states that support Ukraine, including Poland. The new Russian strategy also envisages political change inside the EU and the rise of pro-Russian forces. Society must be ready to face “difficult exams”. The Polish–Ukrainian border and air defences are to be strengthened; the army, including the engineering corps, is to be deployed to full readiness and will do everything possible to ensure security.
This compression exposes the principal problem of the message at the level of imagery and emotion: anxiety outweighs confidence. Escalation is drawn as inevitable and irresistible; Russia as strong and self-assured; Polish society as a student sitting an examination. It was this tone that social-media commentators then seized upon.
One can argue that this psychological effect, and the distinctive social-media reaction that follows from it, are only a minor by-product of official communication.
The opposite may be true: a targeted shift in the Overton window — and in the political mood of a frightened Western public — may be Russia’s principal objective. The unending sequence of small incidents does two things at once: it generates the panic, and it absorbs the attention of Western authorities.
Unable to open a second front and constrained by the threat of a collective response, Russia lacks the leverage to compel a far stronger NATO, by physical force, to abandon Ukraine.
Against that backdrop, the most effective available path is pressure on NATO societies’ weak points: to sap the will to resist and to ease the rise of political forces aligned with Moscow’s interests. A powerful method to achieve this is to instil panic and a sense of defencelessness, which then turn into irritation and a wish to replace the government held responsible. Ineffective public communication by Western leaders is the chief fuel for that mechanism.
Social Media: Influence Beneath the Hype
The issue, then, is psychological influence on a broad audience. Such influence can scarcely be achieved through Russian media or openly pro-Russian influencers. The addressee’s cognitive filter will immediately treat that information as a threat and screen it out. To transmit emotion, the source must be recognised as “one of our own”. To bypass the filter, native, local accounts with a wide reach are needed, and they are already operating on social platforms.
The intense attention now paid to Russia in Western media and on social platforms allows interested parties — and not only Russia — to grow influential accounts around this subject, using acceptance triggers such as “exposing Russian propaganda” or “supporting Ukraine”. Such accounts do not spread outright propaganda and do not follow the crude disinformation model. Their influence starts from statements by Western politicians, is sharpened as those messages are amplified and recast, and is then relayed by journalists chasing scoops and traffic, and by analysts caught in confirmation bias, eager to confirm what they already believe.
The information they circulate overheats the information space, invoking persistent panic, uncertainty about the future, and doubt that governments can protect their citizens. These emotions accumulate over time and, against the background of other crises in the EU, gradually spill over and shift political preferences and voting behaviour. Voters begin to look for politicians who appear able to solve the problem.
The most troubling point is that EU governments do not, at present, appear to possess effective instruments against this kind of covert and finely tuned influence. They are better prepared for an information war over facts than for a psychological campaign that builds on official communication and makes use of in-group narratives.
The state system that handles communication between officials and the public is still designed to inform — and to present the government and its policies in the best light. However, in the realm of public security, this is no longer the sole criterion.
[2] https://www.pbs.org/newshour/world/european-positions-on-russia-harden-as-drone-incidents-cyber-attacks-and-sabotage-mount
[3] https://www.rp.pl/polityka/art44858921-wladyslaw-kosiniak-kamysz-rosjanie-moga-uzyc-ukrainskich-dronow-przeciw-polsce
[5] https://www.rp.pl/sluzby/art44921941-nowe-ustalenia-ws-rakiety-ktora-spadla-na-polske-wyprodukowano-ja-w-rosji
[6] https://www.rp.pl/wojsko/art45148221-rosyjski-dron-w-polsce-prokuratura-ujawnia-mial-glowice-bojowa
