By Robert David English, National Interest, 10/5/23
The wages of hubris are dear. Four months into Ukraine’s vaunted counteroffensive—which, at a massive cost in men and materiel, has made minimal territorial gain—support for Kyiv is openly eroding. Frustration flows from the growing economic burden of war and continuing corruption scandals in Ukraine. But it is aggravated by the backlash against the overconfidence and arrogance of the Western, especially American, foreign-policy establishment. For months, skeptical voices were sidelined while the media contrasted Western military-technological prowess with Russian backwardness and disarray. NATO brains would defeat Russian brawn, experts confidently predicted in June, thus making the disillusion and distrust of October all the greater.
Who isn’t aghast at over 20,000 casualties for a gain of 100 sq. miles, evoking the carnage of WWI? Since Russia occupies 40,000 sq. miles of Ukrainian land, the unsustainability of such a campaign is evident. Yet officials in Brussels and Washington insist that Kyiv’s counteroffensive is succeeding, cheering minor advances and illusory breakthroughs. At the same time, a chorus of retired military officers exaggerate Russian weakness and see victory as just one more “game-changing” weapons transfer away. Why haven’t NATO-supplied armaments, including hundreds of modern tanks, worked as expected? Because of minefields and trenches, they lament, neglecting to admit that Russia is fighting fiercely with both tactical and technological prowess—from devious electronic warfare to devastating anti-tank drones. But weren’t we told that Russian technology lagged far behind the West’s? And that Ukraine had an army of drones while Russia’s demoralized draftees were poorly armed, poorly led, and perpetually on the brink of desertion?
The brutality of war sparks passions—admiration for Ukraine, hatred and derision of Russia—that inflame public debate and impede objective analysis. The latter, by definition, must be dispassionate. If think tanks become partisan and the media act as cheerleaders, then we see only what we want to see. With Ukraine, the cheerleading mirrors that of our Iraq and Afghanistan debacles. As a result, we underestimated the adversary, leading to flawed tactics, failed operations, and now flagging public support. What next? As always, the default choice is escalation—providing Kyiv with more armaments and munitions. But will a few squadrons of F-16s and a few hundred ATACMS be enough to defeat Russia?
One morning in mid-June, Russian president Vladimir Putin awoke to bad news. In a pre-dawn raid, Ukraine struck the bridge linking Crimea and the Russian mainland. If he had followed U.S. media, Putin would have been truly distressed; experts described how the attack dealt a severe blow to Russia’s war because the bridge was the vital supply line for the front. But while pundits hailed this as a triumph for Kyiv, Putin merely shrugged while predicting Moscow’s victory. Was he in denial, or did he know something crucial about Russian resilience? In fact, notwithstanding initial hyperbole, only road traffic was disrupted while supply trains continued unimpeded. Moreover, Ukraine attacked the same bridge in 2022, and repairs quickly restored full operation despite similar predictions of doom. Indeed, the Crimean Bridge has symbolized Russian resourcefulness in the face of Western scorn for a decade; many initially sneered that Russia lacked the know-how to build Europe’s longest bridge, with some even predicting that it would collapse under its own weight. As such, this sturdy engineering marvel invites us to reconsider our stereotypes.
“Russia is running out of ammunition.” A Google search of this phrase yields almost ten million hits, as versions of it appeared in Western headlines for a year. CNN, Newsweek, The Economist, Forbes, and Foreign Policy all joined the chorus, echoing assessments from U.S. and UK defense officials. In June 2022, the Washington Post predicted that Russian munitions would soon be depleted and Russia would “exhaust its combat capability” within months. Yet by June of 2023, all of these outlets reported that it was actually Ukraine that was critically low on missiles and artillery. How low? Russia now fires over 10,000 artillery rounds per day, while Ukraine manages just 5,000. It takes the United States weeks to produce what Ukraine expends in a few days, while NATO allies have reached “the bottom of the barrel” in donating their reserves to Kyiv. Meanwhile, Russia is still outproducing the West despite “crippling” sanctions that were supposed to strangle its war effort. Likewise, Russian missiles continued to strike Ukraine a year after reports that production would soon halt because arms manufacturers were reduced to cannibalizing computer chips from home appliances. And still, we scoff at Russia’s claim that it will increase tank production by 1,500 next year—three times the number of Western tanks provided to Ukraine.
“So what if Russia makes more tanks? Ukraine will just destroy them with missiles and drones.” This follows the narrative of how Kyiv nullifies Russian quantity with superior quality, especially their hi-tech “army of drones.” Thus, we pay scant attention to news that belies this narrative, namely Russia’s adoption of new systems and tactics. Ukraine now loses up to 10,000 drones per month to Russian counter-drone weapons and electronic warfare. Russia also jams GPS signals to sabotage the guidance systems of U.S.-supplied armaments such as JDAM glide bombs and HIMARS artillery. And Russia is deploying a new line of unmanned aerial vehicles, such as the Lancent “kamikaze” drone, that have destroyed or disabled dozens of just-delivered Western tanks and armored vehicles—thereby thwarting the rapid breakthrough that was supposed to follow billions in NATO armor and months of NATO training.
The Fog of War
The Ukrainian battlefield is broad, flat farmland criss-crossed by strips of forest. It is covered by extensive air defenses, continually monitored by both Russian and Ukrainian ground and air-based systems, and blanketed by both sides’ surveillance drones. With night-vision capabilities as well, the “fog of war” has finally lifted—at least within a band of fifteen kilometers along the battlefront. Little can move far without being detected, and to be detected is to be targeted—by attack drones, by artillery, by rockets (such as the HIMARS), and by air-to-surface missiles (such as Russia’s LMUR). The Russians experienced this in the war’s first phase, suffering grievous losses as their drive on Kyiv was repulsed. Moscow’s last major advance, capturing the city of Bakhmut in May, came at the cost of tens of thousands of lives. But now Kyiv is suffering as its counteroffensive—meant as a blitzkrieg through Russian lines—instead advances at a bloody crawl.
It’s true that the Ukrainians and their NATO advisers underestimated the density of Russian minefields. But while mines take a direct toll, they also work indirectly by restricting vehicles to secured routes and narrow paths where they are easier targets for Russian artillery and drones. In June, Russia decimated an entire column of Ukrainian armor—including just-acquired German Leopard tanks and American Bradley infantry fighting vehicles—in a clash on the Zaporizhzhia front. This morale-boosting victory for Moscow saw the site memorialized as “Bradley Square.” The lesson is that any large concentration of armor is quickly detected, and any major convoy of troops is similarly seen and targeted.
With layers of surveillance, including swarms of drones providing real-time detection and targeting to Russian artillery, a grand Desert Storm-style offensive became impossible. Another problem is Ukraine’s inferiority to Russia in the air and its consequent inability to pave the way for its armor and infantry units by pounding Russian defenses from the skies. Even battalion-sized operations are problematic, much less the brigade-level blitzkriegs that many imagined. Ukrainian activity confines itself to company or platoon-level operations where a few dozen troops, supported by a handful of vehicles, advance stealthily under the cover of forest lines. Backed by drones—and supported by artillery fire—they seek to degrade the enemy enough to storm Russian trenches.
Clumsy, Cowardly Russians?
Sometimes, they succeed. Sometimes, the Ukrainians are detected early, and the Russians ambush them with artillery fire. Snipers and stormtroopers contest every trench, with deadly drones buzzing above. The Ukrainians press on, their courage under fire reverently detailed in the media. But that of the Russians—also fighting fiercely and taking heavy losses—is nowhere to be seen. After numerous stories about disarray in command and desertion in the ranks, the fact that the Russians are fighting with discipline and cohesion has left those who predicted otherwise silent. The first direct acknowledgment of dogged Russian resistance in major U.S. media came only recently from CNN. This admission did not come from Western experts but from Ukrainian soldiers themselves. Frustrated that their NATO backers had faulted their meager progress, they lamented, “We expected less resistance. They are holding. They have leadership. It is not often you say that about the enemy.”
Such observations are notably absent in U.S. media. Yet, is the aim of war reporting to celebrate one’s allies? Or is it to present a balanced assessment, regardless of whether the good or bad guys have the upper hand? This partisanship over the prowess of soldiers is also seen in coverage of the weapons they wield. Following the narrative of “Ukrainian brains over Russian brawn,” a succession of upgrades to Kyiv’s arsenal have been touted as wonder weapons. These include HIMARS artillery, Leopard tanks, Bradley infantry fighting vehicles, Storm Shadow missiles, and DPICM cluster munitions—“game changers” all. But these high hopes have been frustrated, in large part because of the weapons the Russians use to counter them. Moscow’s arsenal includes electronic warfare (EW) systems that down Ukrainian drones by the dozens and GPS jamming of U.S.-made HIMARS artillery and JDAM glide bombs. Untested on such a vast scale, their effectiveness has been a nasty surprise. Also unexpected was Russia’s introduction of new systems, such as the Lancet drone, which wreaks havoc on Ukrainian armor thanks to its expanded range, payload, and anti-jamming features. Others include new FAB glide bombs and the improved LMUR missile, whose range puts the helicopters launching it beyond the reach of Ukrainian air defense. These Russian weapons are blunting Ukraine’s advance, yet mainstream analyses rarely mention them. After all, Russia was said to be running out of precision munitions, not developing and deploying new ones.
Instead of asking why they badly underestimated Russia’s resilience and innovation, the excuse for Kyiv’s failures is that “Moscow had months to prepare defensive lines.” Media experts—often the same ones who predicted rapid progress—now explain why progress could never have been rapid in any case. This is an incomplete and self-serving answer; the Russians clearly excel at building defenses more complex than just minefields and trenches, and proper appreciation of that is essential to analyzing Ukraine’s prospects and possible endpoints for this war.
The Ever-Imminent “Collapse” of Russia
Many analysts remain bullish on Ukraine’s eventual victory, yet now see it resulting from a Russian collapse—whether of the Russian army or the entire Putin regime. In other words, these military experts base their prognoses not on analysis of military operations per se but on hunches about the perseverance and patriotism of Russian soldiers and citizens. Some, like General Mark Milley, say that the Russians “…lack leadership, they lack will, their morale is poor, and their discipline is eroding.” Others, like ex-CIA Director General David Petraeus, believe that Russian resolve might “crumble” in response to Ukraine’s drone attacks on Moscow. Such strikes “bring the war to the Russian people” and may convince them that, like the USSR’s 1980s quagmire in Afghanistan, today’s war in Ukraine is “ultimately unsustainable.” Even a largely sober analysis by Warographics concludes with a scenario based on hope; a Ukrainian reconquest of Bakhmut could deliver “a devastating psychological blow” perhaps sufficient to cause a Russian collapse.
Wishful thinking is no basis for policy, nor is there reason to hope that a Ukrainian reconquest of Bakhmut would deliver a “devastating psychological blow” sufficient to cause a Russian collapse. In fact, such a blow was already absorbed by the Ukrainians, who lost the indispensable cream of their army (to hordes of dispensable Russian criminals-turned-stormtroopers) in the doomed defense of a city that President Zelensky had vowed would not fall. As seen, Ukrainian soldiers themselves rebut Milley’s claim that Russian forces lack leadership, will, and discipline. Petraeus is correct that Kyiv’s drone strikes unnerve Muscovites, and evidence from Russian social media reveals distress over high casualties. But these have not translated into broad anti-Putin, anti-war attitudes. On the contrary, support for Putin remains strong, and an anti-Western, rally-round-the-flag effect intensifies as Russia finds itself in a proxy war with all of NATO, per Kremlin propaganda.
Petraeus’ hope that Russia’s elite will reject the Ukraine war as “unsustainable”—as the Soviet elite supposedly did with the Afghan war in the 1980s—is based on a flawed analogy. The old Soviet ruling elite did not see the Afghan war as unsustainable or worry much about public opinion. It took a new leader who prioritized improving ties with the West, China, and the Muslim world—all of whom made leaving Afghanistan a precondition of detente—to start working toward an exit. The point is not that war isn’t costly; the Afghan war was, and the Ukraine war is even more so. Accepting defeat in a major war—especially one that is justified in terms of “vital national interests”—is unlikely until there is both a new leader and elite turnover. For Putin and his political-military elite, the geopolitical implosion that followed Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan and other outposts—particularly Central Europe—is precisely why they believe that Russia must stand firm in Ukraine today.
Putin is Now Weaker/Stronger than Ever
Yet, if the media and its commentators are correct, that leadership transition is coming soon. For months—especially since the abortive June mutiny led by Wagner Group boss Yevgeny Prigozhin—consensus has reigned on Putin’s weakness and potential ouster. Per one former KGB officer on CNN, Putin’s hold on power is now “almost nonexistent,” and state authority “is in free fall.” Another CNN guest—a top Ukrainian official—agreed about Putin’s waning authority and said, “The power he used to have is just crumbling down.” Further, this hastens Ukrainian victory because it has “greatly affected Russian power on the battlefield.” These predictions were wrong: Putin’s grip is stronger now than before; the mutiny failed to rally support; Wagner has been tamed, and its boss eliminated; and Putin has sidelined officials who echoed Prigozhin’s criticism of him or his top brass. As for the war in Ukraine, Russian resistance has actually stiffened since June. Who was this Ukrainian official who claimed that Putin’s army, like his authority, was “crumbling?” None other than Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky.
With all due respect to Zelensky and his office, a journalist’s duty is to push back against spin and insist on evidence for extravagant claims. Instead, the media meekly accepts arguments from officials—then repeated by commentators and pundits—because they fit our narratives of Putin the loser, of a collapsing Russia, or of Western superiority. In other words, because they feed our hubris. Consider the claim by UK intelligence chief Richard Moore that Putin was compelled to “cut a deal to save his skin.” In fact, it was the opposite. Prigozhin—to temporarily save his own skin since he faced summary execution for treason—was forced to accept Putin’s terms. Ridiculing Putin as the one who backed down in fear for his life has little to do with intelligence. It plays well in the moment, but people eventually notice the accumulation of flawed assessments and failed predictions.
When the Going Gets Tough…Spin?
This helps explain a recent poll showing that a majority of Americans now oppose more military aid to Ukraine. Here, they join EU countries where majorities already believed—even before Ukraine’s recent failures—that sending more weapons only prolongs an unwinnable war and delays negotiations for peace. The polls cannot tell exactly what measure of concerns lie behind such opinions—be it general “Ukraine fatigue,” loss of faith in Kyiv’s chances of victory, concern at the heavy burden borne by taxpayers, distress at the news of Ukrainian corruption, or alarm at the cost of assimilating millions of Ukrainian refugees. Yet underlying all is a broader loss of faith in their leaders and the NATO-EU elite still promising to fight for “as long as it takes” to achieve “decisive victory.”
U.S. Secretary of State Anthony Blinken recently defended Ukraine’s counteroffensive by arguing that, thanks to last year’s campaign, “They (Russia) have already lost,” and “(Ukraine) has already taken back about 50 percent of what was initially seized.” Yet the entire point of this year’s campaign is to retake the other 50 percent. Similar spin comes from the Institute for the Study of War (ISW), a highly regarded think tank but one whose pro-Ukrainian partisanship complicates its objectivity. ISW claimed that Ukraine regained more territory in under six weeks than Russia in the previous six months. Instead of assessing Kyiv’s campaign by its stated objective—a rapid thrust to sever Russia’s land bridge with Crimea—ISW relativizes its failures by comparing them with Russia’s. But even this doesn’t convince because Russia’s recent gains refer to the conquest of Bakhmut, a large and heavily fortified city (prewar population 73,000). By contrast, Ukraine’s recent gains consist of open fields and small villages like Robotnye (prewar population: 500).
Maintaining public support for the war is tougher than in the early 2000s following the 9/11 attacks. The sense of outrage and the White House’s pledges of quick and remorseless victory convinced many to back ill-fated ventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. Not only is the “hubris and mendacity” of those recent debacles still fresh in the public mind, but today, we have many more sources of critical information—from expert journals and websites to specialized analysts offering detailed, current information and independent critiques on the conflict. They subject the claims of our political-military leaders to close scrutiny, and unless there is a sharp reversal of fortunes in Ukraine, that scrutiny will be harsh.
Preparing for the Horrors Ahead
But is a sharp reversal of fortunes likely? After so many failed forecasts, many now doubt the assurances of Washington, Brussels, and Kyiv. And it’s not just the quantity of failed predictions that diminish faith in a Russian collapse. It’s also their quality, or the way those predictions have failed, that raises doubt about their authors’ insights into the system about which they prognosticate. Analysts who foresaw that economic sanctions would cripple Russia’s war effort have had to admit that they misunderstood key aspects of Russia’s economic resourcefulness. Others underestimated Russia’s military resilience—as detailed above—due to flawed assumptions about Russian ineptitude or Western military-technological superiority.
Some fall victim to confirmation bias—finding evidence of Russian weakness because their assumptions told them to seek it. When attention focuses on disorganization and dissent in the Russian army—trumpeting incidents of soldiers’ and officers’ complaints, even desertion—it suggests imminent collapse. But how many Russian soldiers and officers are not complaining, and how common is disorganization or dissent in the Ukrainian military? And where is the analysis of why regular soldiers spurned the Wagner mutiny? A related problem is that of selective coverage. Among many examples was recent media coverage of Moscow’s “desperation” in seeking an arms deal with North Korea. Yet they simultaneously ignored signs of “desperation” in Kyiv, such as lowering fitness standards for military service or seeking to deport back to Ukraine men who are ducking conscription in countries of the EU.
Ukraine could be closer to collapse than Russia. There may indeed be an “asymmetrical attrition gradient”—another way of saying that Russia is taking more casualties than Ukraine—but even some Kyiv officials admit that Russia can sustain them better than Ukraine. By late autumn, when weather slows the fighting and campaigns usually end, Ukraine may have clawed back another 100 sq. miles—but at what cost? Looking to 2024, Russia will draw on a manpower base far larger than Ukraine’s. Ukraine will receive more NATO missiles, but they are unlikely to “change the game” any more than HIMARS and Storm Shadows did before them. Kyiv will also receive a few dozen F-16 fighters, but their hastily trained pilots—confronting a dense and sophisticated belt of air defenses—may suffer severe losses with no major impact on the war.
Faced with an asymmetrical armamentsgradient—the inability or unwillingness of NATO states to continue providing Ukraine with sufficient munitions to keep pace with Russia—Ukraine will seek to change the equation. This means more drone strikes on Moscow and other Russian cities, raids on Russian border towns, and a ferocious battle over Crimea. Ukraine will expand attacks on Russia’s Black Sea ships and ports, perhaps finally destroying the Crimean Bridge. And Russia will do likewise, improving its drone and missile force (including reverse engineering of captured NATO weapons) to hit airfields, railroads, ports, and other infrastructure harder than ever. Civilian casualties will soar, as will the danger of chemical or nuclear “accidents.”
Cheerleading that “Ukraine must win decisively, and with superior NATO armaments, it surely will” supports neither sensible military strategy nor responsible policy debate. Those who argue thus recall Britain’s WWII leader, Winston Churchill, who stiffened a nation’s resolve through its darkest hour and led it to triumph. Rarely do they recall Britain’s WWI commander Douglas Haig, whose insistence that Germany would collapse if only the Allies mounted just one more offensive ultimately prolonged a grueling war of attrition at the cost of a million lives. Hubris is not only our enemy but Ukraine’s too.
Robert English, a former Pentagon policy analyst, is the Director of Central European Studies at the University of Southern California. He is the author of various works on the Cold War’s end and aftermath, including Russia and the Idea of the West.