Russia’s war against Ukraine has become a catalyst for the transformation of the Russian economy into a war-mobilization model. The share of defense spending has reached record highs, civilian sectors are contracting, and external markets are steadily shrinking under the pressure of sanctions and political isolation. At the same time, an authoritarian system is capable of masking structural weaknesses for an extended period, shifting the burden onto regions and the general population.
Can this model withstand a prolonged strain? Where are its most vulnerable pressure points? And why does a strategy of a “frozen peace” merely preserve the threat rather than eliminate it?
In an interview with Ukrinform, Mykhailo Honchar, President of the Strategy XXI Globalistics Center and an expert in international energy and security affairs, offers his assessment.
WAR IS DEVOURING RUSSIA ITSELF
Q: Today there are two opposing narratives: “Russia’s economy is on the verge of collapse” and “Russia can sustain the war for years.” What in these claims is myth, and what reflects reality? Or does the truth lie somewhere in between?
A: First, regardless of what anyone claims, no one knows the full truth. Second, the answer cannot be found solely in macroeconomic indicators; it must also be sought in society itself. Yes, the economy follows objective laws, but it is ultimately driven by people. In this context, the key variable is the state of Russian society.
We do not observe mass anti-war sentiment there. On the contrary, there remains a relatively high level of support for the war, which in Russia is officially referred to as the “special military operation.”
Therefore, despite the genuinely difficult and strained situation facing the Russian economy, it will continue to function in one form or another. Yes, it is already showing signs of stress — and will continue to do so. We see declining revenues, particularly from oil exports, and mounting structural distortions. But unless and until a systemic collapse sets in, it is premature to speak of an imminent or inevitable breakdown.
This raises a key question: what does “imminent” actually mean? Weeks? Months? Years? If we recall the collapse of the Soviet Union, its “imminence” lasted nearly six years — from the mid-1985 plunge in global oil prices to 1991, when the USSR ultimately disintegrated.
It is logical, then, to ask: when did the countdown begin for contemporary Russia? On February 24, 2022? I would argue that it began in 2023 rather than 2022. Why? Because 2022 was, paradoxically, a year of massive financial doping for Russia The Kremlin benefited from unprecedented oil and gas revenues — largely driven by price escalation that it helped trigger itself, particularly in the European gas market. Favorable oil price dynamics further amplified those windfall profits.
Q: Western sanctions policy was only beginning to unfold in 2022…
A: Exactly. The EU’s sixth sanctions package targeting oil and petroleum products was adopted on May 30, 2022, but it only entered into force on December 5, 2022 for crude oil and on February 5, 2023 for refined products. In other words, throughout 2022 the aggressor benefited from a powerful financial surge.
Q: In effect, while Ukraine was fighting for survival in the first and most difficult months — when we still lacked sufficient weapons and air defense systems…
A: Russia was earning money and killing us. For Moscow, the war became a source of windfall profits. That financial cushion provided momentum going into 2023.
After the failure of the blitzkrieg — not in three days, not in three weeks, not even in three months — Russia moved toward a systemic restructuring of its economy onto a war footing. In the short term, this produced certain stabilizing effects.
But in the long term, this is a self-destructive model. Investment in the military-industrial base does not generate new wealth in a sustainable sense. What is produced is destroyed on the battlefield — along with the capital invested, the labor expended, the time consumed, and the resources allocated. These are not goods that create durable added value; they represent pure losses that necessitate further expenditures.
In 2024, the situation began to show clearly systemic warning signs. By 2025, those pressures intensified further: global oil price dynamics turned decisively downward. At the beginning of 2025, prices hovered around $80 per barrel; by the end of the year, they had fallen to just above $60. That translates into substantial shortfalls in projected revenues.
To understand the scale of the impact, one must recall the basic revenue identity:
Compounding this were what could be described as “explosive sanctions actions” by Ukraine’s Defense Forces — particularly in the second half of 2025: strikes against oil infrastructure, systematic targeting of tanker logistics, and disruptions to key transportation hubs. These measures further reduced effective export capacity and increased transaction costs.
Today, the global oil market is characterized by oversupply — supply exceeds demand. Yet even under these conditions, Russia is likely to continue the war. The reason is structural: the political regime in the Russian Federation is most stable precisely in a state of war. It cannot stop unless it is forced to stop.
A revealing indicator is the changing ratio of oil revenues to military expenditures. In 2025, for the first time in post-Soviet history, this ratio exceeded 100 percent in inverse terms — meaning oil revenues no longer covered military spending. For comparison: in 2022 the ratio stood at roughly 28%, , 62.3 percent in 2023, 77.6 percent in 2024, and 102 percent in 2025. Current projections suggest it could reach 110–111% this year. That is the trajectory of fiscal degradation.
This dynamic signals that war financing increasingly relies on non-oil sources — budget deficits, reserve drawdowns, domestic borrowing, monetary expansion. In other words, the energy rent is no longer sufficient to sustain the war machine.
Q: But again — when will it “crack”? This year, next year, or several years from now?
A: No one knows, including the Kremlin. The Russian economy is already in a zone of fragility. The only uncertainty is where the fracture will occur first — and whether it will trigger a cascading systemic reaction.
Despite everything, the Russian economy — even in its state-capitalist configuration — has proven more resilient than the Soviet model. In the USSR, oil windfalls were funneled into the arms race and food imports, including American grain. Contemporary Russia, by contrast, is a major food exporter. That alters the mechanics of how the war economy functions: the “furnace” of war is fueled differently, which partly explains its ability to endure longer under external pressure.
The repressive regime effectively suppresses dissent. Russian society is atomized and does not generate systemic resistance. Moreover, Putin has “economized” the war: for many actors, it has become a source of income. That said, those earnings are shrinking. The multi-million recruitment bonuses are no longer what they once were. Regions are increasingly requesting federal subsidies, and such requests are more often denied.
All of this signals systemic degradation. It will become more visible over time. The question, therefore, is not when the system will suddenly implode, but how to accelerate the pressure. The focus must be on striking the aggressor’s vulnerable nodes.
There are serious questions regarding the sanctions policy of our European partners. You can adopt a 20th or even a 120th package of sanctions, but without proper enforcement and without closing loopholes that allow them to be circumvented, the effect will remain limited. We can already see the weak spots — and we know where to apply further pressure.
Q: The war in Ukraine has now lasted longer than the German–Soviet war of 1941–1945. How would you assess Putin’s “strategic achievements” over this period — for Russia, its economy, and its international posture?
A: It all depends on the frame of reference. In our frame of reference, this translates into nearly 1.3 million Russian soldiers killed or wounded. That scale of loss is incomparable even to the almost decade-long Soviet war in Afghanistan, where casualties were dozens of times lower.
But for the Russian regime — and for much of contemporary Russian society — human life carries little intrinsic value. There was no meaningful anti-war movement at the outset, and none has emerged since. In that sense, there exists a tacit consensus between the authorities and society, aptly captured by the Soviet-era phrase: “We will not stand on ceremony over the cost.” They are prepared to pay virtually any price for the destruction of Ukraine — and they do not conceal this.
Q: Hence the “meat grinder assaults,” the disregard for economic rationality and for the country’s global standing…
A: Exactly. Their calculation is that the West will eventually reconcile itself to a “new normal.” The return of Donald Trump to power has reinforced that confidence in Moscow.
They operate on the assumption that victors are not judged. They believe that once facts on the ground are established, the international system will eventually accommodate them. But in reality, this approach leads Russia toward a catastrophe of its own making.
For Ukraine, this is an existential war — a struggle for the right to exist. Therefore, any agreement with Russia absent its military defeat would amount to nothing more than an operational pause — a window for regrouping and preparing the next phase of aggression.
There should be no illusions: no document, no signature, no diplomatic formula by itself will end this war. Only a structural shift in the balance of power can do so.
The Russian regime has not revised its objectives nor conceded anything — despite multiple negotiation formats. As early as December 2021, the ultimatum was addressed not to Ukraine, but to NATO and the United States. Russia’s goals are consistent and transparent: to undermine and ultimately dismantle what we call the civilized world.
This does not necessarily mean tank columns rolling down European autobahns. It means destabilizing the West from within, striking critical infrastructure, generating a pervasive sense of insecurity and discomfort. For Europeans, comfort is a core societal value. That is precisely what Russia targets.
Within this framework, Putin’s so-called “achievements” must be assessed. They are not strategic gains; they are catastrophic outcomes — first and foremost for Russia itself. The task for Ukraine and its partners is to accelerate the point at which that catastrophe becomes irreversible.
THERE ARE NO COMPROMISES WITH THOSE WHO CAME TO KILL YOU
Q: At what stage is the war now? Has the culmination already passed, or are the most severe trials still ahead?
A: We are likely approaching a culmination phase. Both sides are under severe strain — although the degree of strain differs. Given Russia’s resource base, it retains certain advantages. Unable to secure decisive success on the battlefield, Russia is increasingly targeting Ukraine across its full strategic depth.
In such circumstances, Ukraine has little choice but to respond asymmetrically — not mirroring force with force in identical categories, but targeting vulnerabilities in ways that offset resource disparities.
Q: Unfortunately, Ukraine does not possess the overall resource base or the diverse strike capabilities available to Russia.
A: Russia fields a broad spectrum: UAVs across multiple classes, cruise missiles, multiple types of ballistic missiles, many equipped with heavy warheads. Ukraine does not have comparable depth of inventory. Yes, we have indigenous drones, the Neptune cruise missile, and the still somewhat opaque “Flamingo” system that appears occasionally in operational reports. But these do not yet generate systemic, war-shaping effects.
That is why the time factor is critical. This war is often compared to the German–Soviet war, but in reality the starting point of the Russian–Ukrainian war is February 20, 2014. The Kremlin simply believed at the time that events would unfold differently: “Crimea is ours,” and everything else, they assumed, would follow smoothly. That miscalculation has defined the trajectory ever since.
Let us recall the “Novorossiya” project. What was it in practical terms? In essence, it was a plan to seize nearly all of Ukraine’s Eastern Bank and southern regions: Kharkiv, Donetsk, Luhansk, Dnipropetrovsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson oblasts, followed by Mykolaiv and Odesa. What Moscow attempted in 2014, it tried to replicate in 2022. It failed then, and it is failing now.
Q: But Russia’s ambitions extend beyond “Crimea is ours” or even “Novorossiya”…
A: Absolutely. The objective is the total destruction of Ukrainian statehood — — to reduce Ukraine to a formless territory or absorb it into Russia. There can be no compromise with such an objective. There are no compromises with those who came to kill you.
Today we see that, despite heavy losses, Russian forces are still advancing in certain sectors. It is often said that at such a pace it could advance for years or even decades. It is often said that at this pace they could continue for years or even decades. But this is not merely about meters or kilometers.
What is at stake is the linkage between developments on the battlefield and dynamics in the diplomatic arena. Moscow is attempting, at any cost — acting through proxies, including American intermediaries — to pressure Ukraine into withdrawing from the Donbas. From a military standpoint, this would mean creating, with our own hands, the conditions for a future operational breakthrough after a pause, followed by an expansion into strategic depth.
In essence, they want us to manufacture their “culmination point” — a moment after which Ukrainian defeat would become inevitable. For Ukraine, however, culmination means the opposite: immobilizing the adversary, denying it the ability to advance anywhere, and then gradually grinding down its capacity.
At the same time, we must remain fixated solely on the frontline. The effort must extend beyond positional defense. It requires sustained, painful strikes and an expansion of the operational theater — particularly in domains where the adversary does not anticipate pressure.
Q: Well, we have already demonstrated that “hunting” tankers carrying Russian oil is not confined to the Black Sea.
A: Exactly. Taken together, these actions reduce inflows into the war budget. Immobilizing the adversary is critically important because, sooner or later, it produces systemic dysfunction — not only within the military apparatus but across the state machinery as a whole. You continue to fight, yet the war yields no strategic dividends, while becoming an ever-growing burden on the economy and society.
That said, rapid effects should not be expected. This will require sustained, coordinated, long-term, systemic effort.
Q: From today’s vantage point, which scenario appears most likely — and most dangerous — for Russian statehood itself: military defeat, economic exhaustion, or internal destabilization?
A: It will likely be a convergence of several factors. Major collapses never result from a single cause. The Soviet Union did not fall solely due to falling oil prices, although that was an important driver: revenues declined over several years while expenditures kept rising.
Another factor was the arms race, which the USSR entered and ultimately could not sustain. A further element was the growing disillusionment within society — the erosion of belief in the “bright future” promised for decades. By the 1980s, plans for communism had become little more than fiction. Each of these factors in isolation might not have been catastrophic; together, they produced systemic collapse.
The same logic applies to contemporary Russia. The war unquestionably affects the economy, public finances, and the social sphere. But the decisive variable is how society responds. So far, it continues to sustain the war effort and does not fully internalize its costs — with the exception of certain cities and regions that have directly experienced strikes by Ukraine’s Defense Forces.
It is also important to understand what “all of Russia” means for the ruling regime. In practical terms, it primarily means Moscow and St. Petersburg. What happens in Belgorod, Lipetsk, Krasnodar, or other regions is treated under the familiar principle: “there is no money, but you hang in there.” Moscow continues to live its own insulated reality.
However, the war has now reached even that insulated space. At some point, anti-war sentiments may begin to take shape within Russian society — not out of moral reckoning with Ukraine, but for pragmatic reasons. It will become increasingly obvious that expenditures exceed sustainable revenues. When that imbalance becomes undeniable, reassessment may begin.
Q: Will that reassessment occur under Putin?
A: The question remains open. It is possible that another figure could emerge — “authoritative” in the Russian sense. I am not referring to the Russian opposition, which effectively, does not exist. Rather, someone from within the system could rise — someone willing to challenge Moscow’s course. This could be a regional leader, not an oppositionist or radical, but a fully systemic actor, formally loyal to the Kremlin. Someone who simply states the obvious: the regions are bearing increasing losses, funds are drying up, there is no realistic prospect of “victory,” no tangible spoils.
Instead, what we hear are proposals involving fantastical sums — hypothetical “$12 trillion” schemes for joint ventures with the United States. When such numbers are floated, it signals a fundamental disconnect between ambition and material capacity. A look at Russia’s actual GDP makes it clear that it is structurally incapable of offering the United States anything on that scale in a way that would be genuinely transformative. Yes, Russia possesses resources; yes, it retains certain leverage. But the expected strategic windfall is illusory. That mismatch between ambition and capacity is one of the structural traps confronting Russian statehood today.
Q: Is Putin’s departure from power — whether for political or biological reasons — a necessary and sufficient condition for ending the war?
A: No, it is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition. At most, it could result in an operational pause. . A post-Putin regime would not automatically become fundamentally different; The institutional backbone of the system would remain intact. It is entirely plausible that a successor leadership would attempt to seize the moment and signal to the world — especially to the West — that this is a “new Russia.” But the underlying intentions, strategic objectives, and systemic logic would not disappear. Absent a deep transformation of the political and security architecture, any change would amount to cosmetic substitution — potentially creating breathing space, but not bringing the war to an end.
THE ENEMY CANNOT FULLY “SWITCH OFF” UKRAINE’S ENERGY SYSTEM
Q: As the fourth year of the full-scale war concludes, can energy terror be seen as the Kremlin’s alternative to a breakthrough on the battlefield?
A: It is not an alternative; it is a complement. There is nothing fundamentally new about this approach. There are clear historical parallels.
The Russians have long aspired to emulate the United States. Hence the underlying logic: if the Americans can do it, why can’t we? That is why, in the early stages of the full-scale invasion, we witnessed large-scale cruise missile strikes modeled on U.S. operations in the Balkans in 1999 and in Iraq in 1991.
But there is a fundamental difference. In those cases, the military campaigns were tied to clearly defined objectives — halting aggression, compelling compliance, liberating occupied territory. During the liberation of Kuwait from Iraqi aggression, attacks targeted not only military facilities and troop concentrations, but also oil refineries and energy infrastructure. Iraq’s power generation capacity was almost entirely destroyed, leaving only a small fraction operational.
The underlying calculation was straightforward: deprive Saddam Hussein’s regime of its rear support base and trigger internal destabilization.
Q: But that did not happen.
A: Precisely. Yet the Russians are attempting to replicate that logic mechanically, without understanding its limitations. They are operating within a concept of integrated strike warfare: not merely an energy campaign, but simultaneous pressure on logistics, rail networks, and Ukraine’s defense-industrial base. Targeting priorities shift depending on available resources.
We are already seeing that this year some of the strike assets being used are effectively coming “straight off the production line.” That, in itself, is an indicator of systemic strain — and of mounting stress within Russia’s defense-industrial base.
This entire strategy boils down to a single idea: to break the front by breaking the rear. Through moral and psychological pressure, through discomfort, through the exhaustion of society. What could conditionally be described as a strategy of “cold as a weapon.” In the 1930s, the Soviet regime destroyed Ukrainians through engineered starvation; today the attempt is to weaponize winter — cold, darkness, and energy disruption — as instruments of coercion.
It is important to understand that this is not a new concept for the Kremlin. They attempted to implement it already in the autumn-winter campaign of 2022–2023. At that time, however, they underestimated how difficult it would be to fully disable Ukraine’s energy system. On the one hand, they lacked sufficient strike assets; on the other, they misjudged the resilience of both the system and society.
Tactics have since evolved. The number of drones and missiles has increased. But the strategic logic remains unchanged. And there is no indication that Russia will abandon it.
They operate according to what I would call the logic of a crocodile. A crocodile can only move forward — it has no reverse gear. That is precisely the vulnerability. A crocodile is not defeated primarily by brute force, but by cunning: you place a blade along the path it insists on taking. Unable to stop or retreat, it ultimately destroys itself.
This is how one must deal with an aggressor driven by momentum and incapable of strategic retreat.
Q: If Russia continues its attacks at the current pace, how realistic is the risk of a nationwide systemic blackout?
A: First, we need to clarify what a nationwide blackout actually means. . It does not mean total collapse. It would imply fragmentation of the power grid, operating in isolated energy islands rather than as a fully integrated system. That is difficult and inconvenient, but it does not amount to total collapse.
Over these four years, Russia has repeatedly attempted to push Ukraine’s energy grid into systemic failure. At times, they have managed to cause serious disruptions — but only temporarily. Today, Moscow likely believes it is closer than ever to achieving that objective. And it is true: the pace of destruction often exceeds the pace of restoration.
However, over these years Ukraine has accumulated enormous technical and managerial experience. There are now adaptive mechanisms in place, including non-standard and innovative grid reconfiguration schemes, designed specifically to preserve system functionality under sustained attack. This accumulated resilience significantly reduces the likelihood of a prolonged, nationwide collapse, even under continued pressure.
What Russia is conducting is energy terror — terror in the literal sense. It is an attempt to extract political concessions from Ukrainian society and the Ukrainian state through systematic strikes on energy infrastructure. The intended outcome is capitulation — repackaged under the language of a “peace agreement” or “peace plan.” The message is straightforward: sign, accept the terms, and you will receive security guarantees; the war will end.
But that is an illusion. Putin has no intention of ending the war. . His regime derives stability from perpetual conflict. For the current Russian system, war is not a temporary instrument — it is a mode of existence. That is the core structural problem.
Q: How critical, then, is the current state of Ukraine’s energy system?
A: It is genuinely critical. Yes, when solar generation increases, the situation temporarily eases. Spring and summer will naturally reduce some pressure on the system. But there will be new strikes, new destruction, and new vulnerabilities. They strike; we restore.
It would be inaccurate to say that the unified power grid is “dead.” It has been operating in a persistently stressed condition throughout this period. The challenge is cumulative depletion. Stocks of equipment, reserve components, rapid-replacement capacity — none of this is unlimited. International partners provide substantial and indispensable assistance, but the overall picture is broader than electricity alone.
Q: What does that imply?
A: The strikes are not limited to the power grid. The oil and gas sector is also being targeted. This is a comprehensive strategy. The adversary appears to be operating on the assumption that, sooner or later — if not in winter, then in spring; if not in spring, then in summer — it will need to take a pause due to its own exhaustion and the need to prepare for the next phase of the war. Before that pause, Russia is attempting to inflict maximum damage across multiple sectors.
The defense-industrial base, the oil and gas sector, the electricity grid — these are all components of a single strategic design. The objective is strategic exhaustion: to ensure that Ukraine requires significantly more money and far more time to restore some assets and rebuild others from scratch.
Despite its own depletion, Russia assumes its overall potential remains greater. It calculates that within a relatively short operational pause — measured in months, not years — it can regenerate forces and accumulate sufficient military resources for a renewed offensive. A protracted stalemate stretching over years is also unacceptable for the Kremlin, because the prolonged conflict would allow the West and NATO to complete rearmament and full-scale remilitarization.
Putin has little interest in allowing that window to open. Within Russian elite circles, one occasionally hears the view that “the mistake was starting with Ukraine — they should have started with Europe and left Ukraine for later.” That line of thinking reveals much about their strategic logic and the scale of the threat they perceive themselves to embody.
Q: Separately, which regions of Ukraine are currently the most vulnerable?
A: The situation is dynamic. In some areas, restoration efforts are underway; in others, additional generation capacity is being installed; elsewhere, distribution networks are being reinforced or repaired. There is no single region that remains the most vulnerable on a permanent basis.
If we look over a longer period, Odesa region was highly exposed for quite some time. More recently, we have observed serious challenges in Kharkiv region. A few months ago, Chernihiv and the surrounding oblast faced similar conditions. The Russian approach is concentrated and selective: they choose specific axes and deliver combined, large-scale strikes against them.
In some areas, restoration is progressing; in others, additional generation capacity is being installed; elsewhere, distribution networks are being reinforced or repaired. As a result, there is no single region that remains the most vulnerable on a permanent basis.
If we look over a longer timeframe, Odesa region was for an extended period among the most vulnerable. More recently, we have observed serious challenges in Kharkiv region. Just a few months ago, Chernihiv and the surrounding oblast faced similar challenges. Russian tactics are concentrated and selective: they identify specific directions and then conduct massive, combined strikes against them.
From the very beginning of the war, they had a plan: “Kyiv in three days.” It was a classic concept of a lightning strike designed to disarm and decapitate — hit the capital, remove the political leadership, and Ukraine would supposedly collapse. They later realized they had miscalculated, but their underlying logic has not changed. They still believe this is the way to act.
From an energy standpoint, Kyiv is the most energy-intensive megacity in the country. Back in 2022, they set themselves the goal of isolating the capital energetically. It didn’t work then, and it hasn’t worked now. Yet in Moscow they believe they are “close to achieving” that objective.” But it is the same “close,” the same “almost there,” the same “imminent breakthrough,” that we have been hearing for years. According to their imelines, everything should have been finished long ago.
Why, then, have recent strikes inflicted noticeable damage on Kyiv’s energy infrastructure? The answer is straightforward: a shortage of air defense missiles. When there is nothing to shoot down incoming threats with, the outcome is predictable. The January 9 attack clearly demonstrated that dynamic.
Q: If we assume the worst-case scenario in which the war continues into several more years, what structural energy decisions must Ukraine make immediately?
A: There is a saying: if you knew where you would fall, you would spread some straw in advance. But reality does not work that way. Much of the time after 2023 was wasted. That was precisely the time when a systematic effort should have been made to duplicate large-scale generation with dispersed, decentralized capacity.
Options still exist, of course. The focus now should be on cogeneration units, mini-boiler plants, and localized generation sources. Many people began doing this independently of the war, at the household level. Private solar generation genuinely helps. We can see solar panels appearing across cities — and there will be even more with the arrival of spring.
In effect, the centralized system is being relieved of part of its load. Everyone — from households to small and medium-sized businesses — is attempting to secure their own energy resilience within their financial and technical constraints. On the one hand, this is a positive adaptive response. On the other, we must clearly understand that restoring the energy system in its pre–full-scale invasion configuration is unrealistic. And perhaps it is neither necessary nor desirable.
The future model will necessarily be more decentralized, more modular, and structurally more resilient by design.
We need to build a new system — and that will take years. So claims that “everything will be fixed by the next heating season” are, to put it mildly, overly optimistic. It is possible to mitigate the impact — through decentralized generation, reserve capacity, and adaptive management. But we will have to live with restrictions for several years. Destruction happens quickly; restoration is slow.
Air defense and engineering protection are critically important. They are not a panacea, but experience has shown that without engineering protection measures for key facilities, the situation would be far worse. Reinforced substations and autotransformers have demonstrably reduced damage. But that again requires money, time, and sustained effort, and they do not eliminate all vulnerabilities.
Put bluntly, we will not be able to “cure the patient,” but we can ease the condition. European assistance is significant right now, and it alleviates the most acute pressures. But it is not a strategic solution.
SANCTIONS WITHOUT ISOLATION ARE A HALF-MEASURE
Q: Does the West have a unified strategy for Ukraine’s victory, or are we seeing more of a sequence of tactical steps?
A: There has never been a comprehensive, unified strategy — not from the outset. The very phrase “Ukraine’s victory” has appeared mostly in the rhetoric of certain political leaders and a handful of European countries, particularly the Baltic states, rather than as an integrated, codified Western doctrine
If we look at the official policy language of the European Union or NATO, it is dominated by terms such “peace” and “ending the war.” This gave rise to what is often described as the “Biden formula”: Ukraine must not lose, and Russia must not win. But this formula does not actually bring peace any closer. That logic merely institutionalizes a protracted conflict.
The core issue is consistently being substituted. The discussion should center on containing the aggressor, on coercing the aggressor into peace. If policymakers are uncomfortable speaking in terms of victory and defeat — fine, then speak of coercion. But coercion is not about declarations; it is about action. It means sanctions that are genuinely effective.
Take a simple example: disconnecting Russia from SWIFT. Dozens of banks were disconnected, yet roughly three hundred operate within the Russian system. Yes, many are small, but they remain usable for sanctions circumvention schemes. Or take the broader question of comprehensive economic isolation of Russia. That discussion has never been seriously pursued. Why? Because of mineral fertilizer exports, global food security concerns, the sensitivities of the “Global South,” and all the accompanying arguments.
In reality, having lost the European gas market, Russia simply converted gas into nitrogen fertilizer production. Fertilizers are produced using gas as feedstock — and they generate even higher profit margins than raw gas exports. This adjustment has not only been tolerated — in effect, it has been indirectly enabled by the reluctance to impose broader sectoral restrictions.
On the military side, assistance to Ukraine has been provided with persistent constraints that limit operational impact. ATACMS — but not at full range. Taurus — withheld entirely out of concern that Ukraine might strike Moscow with a German-supplied missile. The result is a strategic asymmetry: Russia openly declares that the objectives of the “special military operation” remain unchanged, while Western support is calibrated to avoid escalation rather than to ensure Ukrainian victory.
Q: Why does the West maintain this position?
A: First and foremost because of flawed foundational assumptions. Take a recent symbolic example: the Swiss foreign minister presents Lavrov with a music box playing Tchaikovsky and says that Russia is part of Europe. Seriously? A country that seeks to destroy you is part of Europe?
Or consider another example — certain policy documents within U.S. political circles frame China as an alien civilization while portraying Russia as part of the broader Western tradition. Excuse me, but even under Huntington’s civilizational classification, Russia was never fully categorized as Western. Given its current ideological posture and documented conduct, including systematic repression and war crimes, such categorization becomes even more untenable.
This conceptual ambiguity shapes policy. Many European governments have incrementally adjusted their understanding of the threat, but without fully internalizing it. There is often greater awareness in private assessments than in public rhetoric. Political leaders hesitate to state plainly that the objective must be Ukrainian victory, because that would require acknowledging the scale of confrontation and the long-term commitments it entails.
At the same time, Russia is becoming increasingly active inside Europe itself — through threats, pressure, and intimidation of political leaders. We saw how this dynamic played out in Belgium: the prime minister now vehemently avoids discussing the confiscation of frozen Russian assets, although just a year ago options were being explored.
Yes, Europe has woken up. But it remains cautious, even fearful. And that is why NATO continues to resemble an “alliance of the frightened” — and now, additionally, an alliance shaped by Trump-era calculations.
The Kremlin senses that Europe is approaching a critical threshold, beyond which serious decisions might be taken, and it is trying to prevent that threshold from being crossed.
Q: Fourteen European countries recently declared their intention to restrict the activities of Russia’s “shadow fleet.” How realistic is it to expect tough action rather than merely political signaling?
A: It is difficult to give a definitive answer. On the one hand, we have already seen examples of effective action against shadow fleet tankers. The Americans led the way. The British supported them. So the instruments exist — and they do work.
However, there is little indication of readiness for systemic enforcement at the level of the European Union as a whole. The EU operates by consensus, and on issues of this magnitude, unanimity is unlikely. Even within the Baltic region — whose security and maritime interests are directly affected — we do not yet see coordinated hard action. Just look at the situation with the 20th sanctions package. Formally “nearly ready,” yet still not adopted. And the latest signals once again indicate a lack of unanimity.
That is why Ukraine’s Defense Forces are expanding the scope of their own coercive measures — not limited to diplomacy or political pressure. The message to European partners, including in the Baltic region, must be clear: if decisive measures are not taken, Ukraine will act within its own security logic If the aggressor continues to receive revenue streams, if genocidal practices escalate without proportionate response, Ukraine retains the right to respond as necessary. In practical terms, maritime domains and logistical corridors become legitimate operational environments. This is not rhetorical escalation; it is a matter of survival.
Q: Western leaders are actively discussing security “after,” while the war is ongoing now and Ukraine is suffering strikes every day. Is there any positive prospect in such a policy?
A: In my view, the prospects are very limited. Because this “after” may arrive very quickly in the West’s interpretation — as in, hostilities have ceased, therefore the war is over. Although we fully understand that a ceasefire is not the end of the war.
The logic may become dangerously simple: the war is over, why, then, continue allocating large-scale resources to support Ukraine? Let Ukraine manage on its own. Add to that electoral cycles — regular in some countries, snap in others. The arrival of new political forces, often with entirely different views.
We are already witnessing this shift. The Czech Republic is one example. Slovakia is an even more striking one. The previous Slovak government was an active supporter of Ukraine. Our EU candidate status was to a large extent thanks to Slovakia under Prime Minister Eduard Heger. The first air defense system we received also came from Slovakia. And now, under Prime Minister Fico, we see a markedly different policy orientation. As for Viktor Orbán’s Hungary, there is hardly any need to elaborate.
That is why this Western “after” could turn out to be even worse for us than the current situation. Because even now, frankly speaking, Ukraine is not awash in assistance. We are constantly talking about a shortage of air defense missiles, ammunition shortages, and financial constraints.
And this raises a logical question: how is it that there is no money for Ukraine? During the Greek debt crisis, €300 billion was mobilized rapidly. When COVID struck, a trillion-euro recovery package was mobilized. Yet when it comes to confiscating frozen Russian sovereign assets — a step that has long been technically and politically feasible — suddenly it ecomes “impossible.” They scraped together €90 billion, and even that even that only covers a two-year timeframe.
The same applies to the so-called security guarantees. In many respects, this resembles last year’s PR campaign around bilateral “security agreements,” of which three or four dozen were signed. But how do they actually function? Essentially — they do not. The exception is the United Kingdom, with which there is a century-long agreement that truly stands apart from the rest. Everything else is more akin to military-technical cooperation agreements than to robust security guarantees.
What constitutes a genuine security guarantee? In my understanding, it means a model like U.S.–Japan or U.S.–South Korea: a nuclear umbrella combined with the physical presence of allied armed forces. Full stop. No one has offered that to us, and no one is offering it now. Even the minimum we have been requesting since March 2022 — covering western Ukraine with NATO forces, creating an air shield — is something they are unwilling to do. And we are not even talking about a combat operation, but about a humanitarian mission: intercepting missiles and “Shahed” drones flying toward our nuclear power plants — Rivne, Khmelnytskyi, South Ukraine. Even that they are not prepared to undertake.
So there is no basis for speaking about real security guarantees. What will be called “guarantees” will not actually be such. They will contain countless clauses, procedural triggers, and fine print — specifying when, under what circumstances, and whether they could be activated at all. If you read carefully, they will never be triggered. In practice, this resembles the doubts surrounding NATO’s Article 5. Because if you actually read it, each country determines the scope of assistance to a victim of aggression. One may say: we will provide political and diplomatic support — and that is it.
Q: How do you assess Europe’s role overall? Has it already become an actor capable of acting independently, or is it still reluctant to assume strategic responsibility for the war on the continent?
A: Unfortunately, no. What we are witnessing is more fragmentation of Europe than consolidation. On the one hand, a certain core still exists in the form of the Franco-German tandem, although the question of its durability remains open. The United Kingdom, once an influential political actor within the EU, is no longer part of the Union.
Alongside that, there is a group of traditionally pro-American states — notably Poland and Romania — that have long relied on Washington as their primary strategic anchor. There are also states that formally align with Brussels but in practice gravitate toward Moscow: Hungary, Slovakia, and to some extent Austria. Separately, there is what might be called the “swamp” —Spain and Portugal, for example, where the war is perceived as geographically distant, while their main concerns lie in Africa. A similar situation exists in Bulgaria, which is constantly wavering.
A more or less consistent and firm position has come from the countries of the Nordic-Baltic region, along with the United Kingdom. The result is a mosaic European Union, structurally incapable of producing a truly consolidated stance. Hence the pattern: correct rhetoric, limited execution. Or symbolic steps without strategic weight.
This is clearly visible in the example of the sanctions packages On paper, the packages appear robust, but they do not deliver decisive impact. Russia continues to operate tankers that are formally blacklisted by the EU. And nothing happens because no one physically stops them. The argument often heard in Europe is: “These vessels do not enter our ports; we do not purchase their cargo — therefore we are compliant.” But with such an approach, they are not restraining the aggressor; on the contrary, they allow it to continue generate revenue.
In the end, this half-measure approach ultimately harms Europe itself. It is already evident that it is far less costly for Europe to support Ukraine in a way that enables Russia’s military defeat than to face a scenario in which an emboldened aggressor stands at the EU’s own borders, requiring exponentially greater defense expenditures and structural militarization.
Q: How realistic is the emergence of a new European security architecture, and what place is Ukraine likely to occupy in it — a buffer state or a full-fledged security actor?
A: Some countries understand that Ukraine must be an integral component to the European security architecture. But this awareness is most pronounced among states on the eastern flank — those that directly border Russia, particularly the Baltic countries.
Even Poland no longer appears unequivocal. It increasingly seeks to position itself as an independent “frontline” power, while within that logic Ukraine risks being treated less as a co-architect of security and more as a buffer space. Therefore, the maximum we can realistically discuss at this stage is limited configurations of groups of countries — the so-called “coalitions of the willing,” which in practice often resemble “coalitions of the hesitant.” They rarely move beyond declarations and meetings filled with the right words.
True allies are those bound by mutual defense treaties. Ukraine has no such treaty with any state. In 2023, there was arguably a missed opportunity: while seeking security guarantees, Ukraine could have positioned itself as a provider of guarantees — for example, to Moldova or the Baltic states — and initiated a new security architecture built around reciprocal commitments. That did not happen.
Today, various formats are frequently mentioned: the Lublin Triangle, the Lithuanian–Polish–Ukrainian Brigade, the Ukraine–Poland–UK trilateral framework. But in real-world war conditions, these formats do not translate into operational commitments. No partner is prepared to provide direct military involvement — not merely equipment transfers, but participation even in limited protective or humanitarian missions.
This is not about deploying ground forces. It is about air support — for example, patrolling western Ukrainian airspace from bases in Poland or Romania, intercepting cruise missiles and drones threatening civilian populations. After repeated attacks on energy infrastructure and nuclear facilities, such a mission could plausibly be framed as humanitarian protection. Yet no such initiative has materialized.
The reason is straightforward. Pro-Russian actors and what Lenin once termed “useful idiots” would immediately argue that this constitutes the West being “dragged into war with Russia.” The official line remains that Europe is not at war with Russia. Meanwhile, Moscow explicitly frames Europe as a hostile bloc and fears genuine European consolidation. The constant Kremlin narrative that Europe is preparing to attack Russia serves precisely that defensive political function.
In reality, the trajectory runs in the opposite direction: Russia is preparing for potential aggression against Europe, currently through hybrid means. Ukraine understands this. Much of European society does not. There remains a persistent belief that achieving “peace in Ukraine” will restore pre-war normalcy — trade flows, business ties, political comfort. That is a dangerous illusion.
Q: Finally, what are your expectations for the coming weeks and months?
A: I do not anticipate what could meaningfully be called peace. Even a potential ceasefire would not constitute resolution. As noted earlier, the Putin regime seeks not closure but an operational pause.
It is entirely possible that Moscow could agree to a temporary halt under certain conditions, packaging it as a ceasefire while portraying it domestically as a dictated arrangement. It may also calculate that accommodating “friend Donald” to some extent preserves leverage within negotiations. But any pause would likely be instrumental — a period for regrouping, resource accumulation, and preparation for the next phase.
There is another dimension to consider. Donald Trump is reportedly planning a visit to Beijing in April. From his perspective, the strategic sequencing appears roughly as follows: Venezuela is “contained,” Iran is significantly weakened, and the key objective is to arrive in Beijing with Russia either already detached from China or positioned for detachment.
The underlying logic is to pull Russia away from China by pressuring Ukraine into accepting what would be framed as a peace agreement but would in practice resemble capitulation. In this narrative, Trump would demonstrate the America First principle — that the United States sets the rules and that global strategic issues are decided by major powers in direct negotiation.
Putin will therefore watch closely what transpires in Beijing. At the same time, the Kremlin has already made a strategic choice. This largely went unnoticed in Ukraine, but at the Russia–China Energy Forum in December, Igor Sechin openly articulated the formula: Russia is prepared to serve as China’s resource base, while China becomes Russia’s technological base.
Q: Therefore, Moscow no longer hesitates to accept a subordinate, resource-oriented role?
A: Correct. And this is precisely what many in Washington may underestimate. The Kremlin understands the real asymmetry: China’s aggregate economic and technological weight far exceeds Russia’s. For Beijing, the U.S. market remains critically important, which is why tactical adjustments in its level of support for Russia are conceivable. But such adjustments would not be a “favor” to Washington. They would be a function of China’s own strategic calculus — preserving access to Western markets while maintaining leverage over Moscow.
It is not about China reducing purchases of Russian oil — that is unlikely. But Beijing could exert political pressure aimed at de-escalation. In practical terms, that could mean signaling to Putin: you have been fighting for four years without achieving your strategic objectives. Do you truly believe that a few more months of a summer campaign will change the outcome? Ukraine has not collapsed in four years — or, if one takes the broader timeline, in twelve.
China itself may benefit from an operational pause. Such a pause could ease tensions with the United States and create space to manage the Taiwan issue through political and internal mechanisms rather than military escalation. That is a separate but connected track within the broader strategic picture.
Against that backdrop, Putin is likely seeking to extract maximum gains from the final phase of the winter campaign. Spring conditions — thawing terrain, snowmelt, degraded maneuverability — naturally complicate large-scale offensive operations. This seasonal transition provides a convenient window for what could be presented as a ceasefire.
But this would not represent peace. It would be a tactical intermission: regrouping, reconstitution, stockpiling, and preparation for the next phase. In strategic terms, an operational pause is not resolution — it is merely a recalibration of tempo.
Myroslav Liskovych led this conversation
Kyiv