I had the opportunity to meet Finland’s former president Sauli Niinistö on Thursday 13 August and exchange views with him on topical issues in European security. During the meeting, we discussed the current trajectory of strained relations between Russia and the West, the risk of conflict between Europe and Russia, Russia’s long-term strategy in Ukraine, and the strengthening of European deterrence.

A direct NATO-Russia conflict may remain unlikely even as confrontation becomes harder to control. The discussion instead points to the hybrid sphere, where Europe faces legal and capability asymmetries and where agreed rules for managing escalation are lacking. Against this background, Niinistö sees stronger European capabilities and dialogue with Putin, involving the United States, as necessary elements of escalation management.

Unlikely conflict, but high tensions

In President Niinistö’s view, a direct conventional conflict between Russia and NATO is unlikely. For Russia, directly challenging NATO in an open conflict would offer little strategic advantage. If Russia nevertheless seeks to sustain a confrontational posture towards the West, it is more likely to pursue that competition through other means.

The more concerning scenario, in President Niinistö’s view, is an intensifying confrontation in the hybrid sphere. Even if the West and NATO maintain a stronger conventional military position relative to Russia, the asymmetry in deterrence creates an avenue for Russia to avoid direct conflict and employ instruments of hybrid confrontation.

A direct NATO-Russia conflict may remain unlikely even as confrontation becomes harder to control.

Such confrontation is difficult to manage partly because it involves unlawful and criminal means, while European states remain constrained by their own legal frameworks. Such methods may include proxies and criminal actors, as well as less predictable tools emerging from advances in artificial intelligence and quantum technology.

By contrast, President Niinistö considers it unlikely that Russia would test NATO’s Article 5. Such hesitation would reflect a calculation of risk. As long as NATO appears strong and credible, testing Article 5 through an armed intrusion would be a high-risk way of probing the cohesion of the alliance.

The caveat is that this deterrent effect depends on NATO remaining strong and credible. That credibility is not self-sustaining and requires active maintenance.

NATO needs a European pillar

Credibility also depends on the visibility of allied strength. In Niinistö’s view, Russia tends to underestimate its opponents, making it important that its political leadership recognises Europe’s capabilities and determination. Hence, European and NATO strength must not only exist but also be visible and credible from Russia’s perspective.

That credibility is also closely linked to the United States’ commitment to European defence and security. President Niinistö sees a degree of unpredictability in US decision-making. President Trump’s comments have affected the Alliance’s credibility, but the uncertainty extends beyond the short term. Strategic competition between China and the United States may also shift US attention away from Europe.

Despite this short- and long-term uncertainty, President Niinistö considers a full US withdrawal from Europe unlikely. The possibility should nevertheless be taken into account.

This uncertainty strengthens the case for developing a European pillar within NATO. In Niinistö’s view, such a pillar should be fully compatible with NATO while also being capable of operating independently if necessary. The main challenge for European defence is not necessarily a lack of funding, but the absence of structures that would allow available resources to be used effectively.

In considering French and British nuclear deterrence within such a pillar, Niinistö regards the French nuclear initiative positively because it helps present Europe as a strong actor. He nevertheless argues that European deterrence should rely more heavily on conventional missile capabilities. Alongside nuclear and conventional deterrence, Europe’s lack of hybrid capabilities and of a credible capacity to respond in the hybrid sphere remains a concern.

Russia’s strategic calculation

The discussion portrays Putin’s strategic approach as comparatively fixed once a course has been chosen. In Niinistö’s chess metaphor, the plan is followed to a decisive endpoint even if the final outcome remains uncertain. The same logic applies to the war in Ukraine, where Putin has gone all in, staking his own position as well.

At the same time, the discussion suggests an opportunistic element in Putin’s decision-making. When discussing why Russia ultimately decided to launch a full-scale offensive against Ukraine, Niinistö points to Putin’s sense that he had been deceived by the West and to Russian disappointment with the Minsk agreements.

Taken together, these observations suggest that Russia’s strategic course may be difficult to alter through short-term pressure alone, while Putin’s central role remains important for any effort to manage escalation.

He also suggests that Putin decided to act when the moment appeared favourable, with perceived weakness in the West forming part of that calculation. The events of 6 January at the US Capitol and the withdrawal from Afghanistan are discussed as possible signals of such weakness, with Niinistö viewing the latter as a possible reinforcing factor.

Against this background, the discussion considers whether Ukraine’s long-range drone campaign could pressure Russia into negotiations by bringing the effects of the war more directly into Russian society. Niinistö remains cautious, questioning whether such pressure would actually change Russian attitudes.

A further obstacle to changing Russia’s course lies in the legal and symbolic status Russia has given to the annexed territories. Niinistö argues that incorporating these territories into Russia’s constitutional framework raises the threshold for later concessions, as reversing their status would be difficult to accept domestically. The discussion also raises the possibility that annexation could provide a legal basis for a formal declaration of war if Ukraine attempted to retake the territories. Niinistö considers this idea plausible.

A separate complication concerns the information reaching Putin. Niinistö raises the possibility that he may not receive an accurate picture of the situation because it is shaped by those around him. At the same time, Russian decision-making cannot be reduced to Putin alone, since lower levels of the system also play a role. Nevertheless, Niinistö argues that Putin remains decisive at the top and tends to hold to his position even when those around him think differently.

Taken together, these observations suggest that Russia’s strategic course may be difficult to alter through short-term pressure alone, while Putin’s central role remains important for any effort to manage escalation.

Managing the risk of escalation

Niinistö sees uncontrolled hybrid escalation as a realistic risk. He also assesses that Putin remains deeply angered by European support for Ukraine and that retaliation is likely to remain part of his calculation. Niinistö considers the wider danger particularly serious because the hybrid sphere lacks agreed rules for containing confrontation and managing escalation. He draws a parallel with the nuclear confrontation of the 1950s, when the risks of escalation created a need for dialogue and rules between the opposing sides.

Against this background, Niinistö sees dialogue as necessary to establish agreed limits for hybrid confrontation. Ultimately, he argues that this requires dialogue with Putin himself. The United States should also participate in such a process, although Niinistö identifies a complication: Russia can confine its hybrid activities to Europe, potentially leaving the United States less directly exposed to the confrontation.

Alongside dialogue, the discussion points to a second requirement: a more credible European capacity to respond in the hybrid sphere. Niinistö considers the lack of hybrid capabilities at least as serious as the nuclear deterrence gap being discussed in Europe. Building such capacity is complicated by the legal asymmetry already identified: adversaries may employ unlawful or criminal means, while European states remain constrained by their own legal frameworks.

Concluding thoughts

The discussion highlights a clear distinction between conventional and hybrid deterrence. Even if conventional deterrence prevents military conflict, the hybrid sphere operates under a different and less regulated logic. A country or alliance with a strong conventional deterrent may therefore remain less well prepared for confrontation below the threshold of formal military conflict.

Deterrence depends on perception as well as material capability. European and NATO capabilities can shape Russian risk calculations only if their strength, political cohesion and determination are also visible and credible from Russia’s perspective.

Dialogue is therefore not an alternative to deterrence, but part of managing the risk that hybrid confrontation could escape political control.

The case for NATO’s European pillar follows from changes in the wider strategic environment. Such a pillar is better understood as a hedge against uncertainty than as preparation for a complete US withdrawal. Strategic competition with China may draw US attention away from Europe, even if Washington remains committed to European security over the long term.

The discussion further highlights a tension between opportunism and resistance to change in Putin’s decision-making. The Russian leader appears sensitive to perceived moments of Western weakness, yet comparatively resistant to external pressure once a strategic course has been chosen.

The broader problem, however, is not simply how to deter hybrid activity, but how to prevent hybrid confrontation from spiralling out of control. In the absence of agreed rules, stronger European response capabilities may be necessary but insufficient. Dialogue is therefore not an alternative to deterrence, but part of managing the risk that hybrid confrontation could escape political control. ֍

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In order to analyse Russia's actions and to anticipate their next moves, it is necessary to study how they understand the current situation and what kind of strategy they are planning next.

The first part of this analysis set out the Russian worldview in Andrei Bezrukov’s essay “The New War and What We Must Do”. The Russian hardliners consider the war in Ukraine as an existential contest with a declining West, and they rule out any settlement resembling a Russian defeat or a draw.

This second part considers the strategy suggested by Bezrukov and his analysis regarding modern conflict. He presents his blueprint for how Russia intends to endure a prolonged strategic confrontation with the West, which he suggests might last for decades.

His ideas proceed from a premise that earlier wars were fought to seize and hold territory with mass armies, but in the current conditions offensive wars will not provide a clear victory for any state. No country has the resources to build the required forces equipped with modern armaments to defeat its primary adversaries decisively. Russia cannot defeat the West in direct war. But the West is not capable of defeating Russia in an open war either.

The contest is therefore not about achieving victory on the battlefield. It is about who can endure and outlast their opponent. Bezrukov’s vision of warfare is a permanent, multi-domain, low-intensity confrontation, in which the pressure is directed against the economies, infrastructure and populations supporting the war effort.

Bezrukov’s suggested strategy for Russia is two-fold. First, strengthen Russia’s deterrence to dissuade the Western countries from attempting a decisive strike and to ease the campaign of pressure against Russia. Second, increase the endurance of Russia’s society, economy and infrastructure. Russia needs to be able to absorb large-scale damage without being defeated. According to Bezrukov the combination of these factors would allow Russia to outlast the West, which he believes is in a permanent decline.

The most important insight from the essay is that Bezrukov does not suggest a direct escalation or an offensive against the West. He does not believe that Russia could win an open confrontation or a direct war. Instead, he recommends an increasingly threatening deterrence posture against the West to prevent escalation. This is achieved through strengthening Russia’s conventional long-range strike capabilities to hold Western economies and infrastructure at risk.

The New War and the Pressure on Russia

Bezrukov provides his analysis of modern conflict. In current conditions no state can field the mass armies that a decisive victory would require. Therefore, the realistic aim of war has become the destabilisation of the adversary: the erosion of its resource base until it can no longer resist. War of this kind is permanent rather than decisive, lower in intensity but continuous, and waged across every domain, from cyber and information to trade, finance and diplomacy. It is fought not to conquer and hold territory but to collapse the opposing side’s capacity to sustain a long confrontation, exhausting both its resources and its will to resist. This warfare is directed at the foundations of national power: the economy, the technological and industrial base and, above all, human capital.

War of this kind is permanent rather than decisive, lower in intensity but continuous, and waged across every domain, from cyber and information to trade, finance and diplomacy.

With the declining demography of developed nations, Bezrukov argues that people have become the decisive and finite resource, and that scientists, engineers, commanders and decision-makers cannot easily be replaced. This is why he expects the deliberate targeting of a state’s most valuable individuals, a pattern Bezrukov argues is visible already in the Israeli and American campaigns against Iran.

In Bezrukov’s worldview, the threat directed against Russia amounts to a strategy of slow strangulation. He expects the campaign to be kept below the threshold of open war while Russian fatigue accumulates and resources are drained. Bezrukov characterises the Western approach as a combination of the “wolf pack” (волчья стая) and “a thousand cuts” (тысяча порезов): pressure on Russia’s borders through proxies, drone attacks, blockaded trade routes, the sabotage of tankers and high-profile killings. In his interpretation, this is a method of small, sub-threshold steps he calls the slow boiling of the frog (медленное варение лягушки). This is a sequence of gradual actions, each one individually too minor to warrant a hard response, which together gradually wash away Russia’s red lines (размывание красных линий).

From a Weakening Nuclear Deterrent to Conventional Deterrence

Bezrukov considers the Russian deterrence as having been significantly weakened. In his reading, only those who can impose serious costs are treated with caution, and a credible capacity to inflict damage, especially by conventional means, would change how the Western countries approach Russia.

Bezrukov believes Russia’s existing deterrent is losing its force, because nuclear weapons are not a credible deterrent against the campaign of pressure, which never escalates to an open war. He argues that nuclear weapons are still deterring the West from open war, and Western leaders are working to keep the conflict from escalating to the point where Russia would consider it necessary to use nuclear weapons.

He identifies two ways in which the Russian deterrent is being hollowed out. The first is a direct effort to neutralise it. He expects the United States to pursue a space-based ballistic missile defence system capable of tracking and destroying Russian missiles in flight, a concept he judges to be approaching feasibility. The second is a claimed disarming strike on command centres and nuclear delivery systems using drones and sabotage groups pre-positioned inside Russia. He names the operation “Spiderweb” (Паутина) as the prototype. In Bezrukov’s argumentation, either of these could have the capability to neutralise the Russian nuclear deterrent, although he admits their difficulty and complexity, and expose Russia as vulnerable to a strategic first strike.

He believes the second way of eroding the Russian deterrence is based on the nature of the pressure applied against Russia. Because each step in the campaign is individually too minor to justify a nuclear response, the nuclear capability does not do enough to deter it. Therefore, the Western countries are able to act against Russia below the threshold of open war, through supporting Ukraine and in some cases directly, since he is in his essay accusing the Western countries of sabotaging the Nord Stream in the Baltic Sea. He says this is possible, because the Western countries are confident Russia cannot escalate.

The conclusion he draws is that nuclear deterrence, while still necessary, is no longer sufficient. His line of argumentation implies that the nuclear arsenal has become effectively unusable at the level where the strategic confrontation is being conducted, because using it would carry too significant risks in relation to the individual steps taken against Russia.

His suggestion is to add a second tier of deterrence below the nuclear threshold. He suggests that Russia should adopt, alongside mutual assured destruction at the nuclear level, a concept of “inflicting unacceptable damage” (нанесение неприемлемого ущерба) by conventional means. The phrase is not incidental, because “unacceptable damage” is common terminology in Russian nuclear-deterrence doctrine. In his view, extending the concept to conventional long-range strike gives Russia a threat it could more realistically use against the Western countries.

Bezrukov highlights gas carriers, gas-receiving terminals, private satellite constellations and the data centres of Western financial companies as high-priority targets.

Notably, Bezrukov names the specific Western assets that need to be held at risk. Bezrukov names gas carriers, gas-receiving terminals, private satellite constellations and the data centres of Western financial companies as high-priority targets. This is a posture designed to inflict as much economic damage as possible in a potential conflict, which Bezrukov considers necessary to enhance Russia’s deterrence posture. This is also connected to his vision of modern conflict, which is directed at eroding the economic and industrial capacity of the adversary.

Hardening Infrastructure and Command

In addition to an extended conventional deterrence posture, Bezrukov considers necessary the hardening of Russian society, economy and infrastructure against long-range high-precision strikes. The precondition, he argues, is mental. Russia must accept war as its normal condition and become, in his phrase, a “warring society” (воюющее общество) for a decade or two, organising its economy, institutions and people around endurance rather than expecting a return to peacetime conditions.

Since modern infrastructure cannot survive a war in which drones strike with precision at long range, he argues that power generation, fuel storage and data centres should be moved underground or hardened, that transport and energy should be built as distributed networks rather than being concentrated in large nodes, and that critical industrial production should be duplicated in remote regions. Foreign communications equipment and software should be replaced with domestic systems built on a principle he glosses as secure-by-design, and the country ringed with a layered, multi-technology air defence. The logic throughout is consistent: a system whose assets are buried, dispersed and duplicated can absorb damage without collapsing.

The same principle governs his approach to command, and here the design contains an internal tension. Bezrukov expects the adversary to try to overload Russia’s centralised “vertical” of decision-making in a conflict situation, aiming to generate simultaneous crises across many domains and paralyse Russia’s decision-making. This would prevent Russia from being able to mount a coordinated response. This is expected to be conducted as a campaign of cyber strikes on communications and critical infrastructure, launched together with an information campaign and sabotage activities.

His answer is a combination of two impulses: a strong supreme coordinating body, a Stavka (Ставка), paired with the decentralisation of execution and the delegation of initiative downward. Coordination would be concentrated at the top, while execution and initiative are dispersed. A system of that kind, he concedes, works only where there is mutual trust, and where officials place service to the state above personal and departmental interest. The criterion of success in a long war of attrition is the capacity to withstand repeated strikes without losing control.

The Central Role of Intelligence Work

Bezrukov places intelligence at the centre of the new war. Information and agent work, he argues, have moved to the forefront in the strategic competition, and the quality of their organisation is now the single most important factor in success. At the military front, effectiveness depends entirely on situational awareness (владение обстановкой) and target designation (целеуказание); and on the strategic level, he believes that without a correct assessment of the adversary’s situation and intentions as well as a seamless decision-making process, Russia can neither hold the initiative nor dictate the course of the conflict. He suggests that the coming years will demand serious attention from the country’s leadership to the special services, and serious investment in them.

He sets out ambitious goals for Russia, which would require significant command-and-control reforms. He suggests that the available reconnaissance and intelligence data streams should be fused together to create a common operating picture, to enable proactive decisions. This should include the internet, space-based assets and even agent networks. This is practically the Russian version of the AI-enabled all-source fusion, which he describes the United States as developing. This vision for Russia seems aspirational and is not likely to be realised in the near future.

Another track of reforms is connected to the human factor, which he argues is and always will be primary in intelligence work, and without rigorous selection, uncompromising standards and a distinct professional culture, the special services degenerate into just another bureaucracy using power for its own ends. To draw talented young people into the work, he adds, Russia should abandon the reflex of “tightening the screws” (закручивание гаек), the instinct to crack down and maintain excessive control, in favour of raising the quality of personnel and agent work.

The sharpest of these measures points inward. Because he expects the West to try to subvert Russia from within, he calls for rebuilding the domestic agent apparatus: reviving a dense network of local district officers (участковые), raising their pay, cutting paper reporting, and concentrating on the cultivation of voluntary informants and agents inside the population groups he judges susceptible to enemy influence, migrant diasporas among them.

He is treating significant portions of the population as potential subversive agents, who should be monitored and controlled. This is a reflex which is likely to lead to paranoia, distrust and mutual suspicion.

Here the design turns against itself. A standing network of informants spread through the population is an instrument of suspicion, premised on the assumption that significant parts of Russian society are unreliable and open to adversarial penetration. Yet trust is the central element of the command system he proposes, with its decentralisation of decision-making and emphasis on initiative. This only works if there is mutual trust and officials who place the state above their own interests. At the same time, while he emphasises cohesion and trust, he is treating significant portions of the population as potential subversive agents, who should be monitored and controlled. This is a reflex which is likely to lead to paranoia, distrust and mutual suspicion.

Concluding Thoughts

Andrei Bezrukov is one man, but an influential one: a member of the presidium of the Council on Foreign and Defence Policy (SVOP), and an active participant in Russia’s foreign and security policy establishment. The strategy he outlines is best read as representative of a strong current in Russian strategic thinking, one that expects a long confrontation with the West rather than a direct conflict or an early settlement in Ukraine.

The strategy he outlines is best read as representative of a strong current in Russian strategic thinking, one that expects a long confrontation with the West rather than a direct conflict or an early settlement in Ukraine.

What that current does not advocate is worth noting. At no point does Bezrukov recommend an offensive, or an escalation, as a viable course against the West and NATO. He confines himself to deterrence and to measures that sit below the threshold of open war, rather than to direct military confrontation. A conventional invasion of NATO territory is not the strategy he proposes. Notably, it is not a course recommended even by one of the more hawkish voices in the Russian establishment. The posture he describes is built around avoiding a direct clash with NATO, not seeking one.

In his view Russia cannot win a direct war against the West, so it seeks instead to deny the West a decisive strike, to restore deterrence by holding Western economic and infrastructure targets at risk with conventional long-range weapons, and to harden Russia’s society, economy and infrastructure to the point where it can absorb heavy damage and heavy casualties without being defeated. The purpose is not victory in any conventional sense. It is a strategy of survival and endurance, based on a single expectation: that the West, set against the backdrop of a global power transition, will exhaust its cohesion and decline before Russia does. The stakes he attaches to this are high. Without mobilising for victory, he warns, Russia’s own survival will be called into question.

That expectation is also the strategy’s core weakness. Its entire logic depends on the West being in irreversible decline within a timeframe Russia can outlast. If the premise does not hold, the Russian strategy of endurance has no victory condition; it becomes endurance for its own sake, with no account of how the confrontation ends. A strategy whose success depends on the adversary fracturing over time is not a coherent plan but rather a wager, resting on the hope that the West’s decline and collapse under the weight of its own contradictions are inevitable.

Another weakness in Bezrukov’s analysis is that it expects the Russian population, society and economy to mobilise for a long confrontation and become a “warring society”. This pillar of the strategy is also dependent on hope. There is no credible path for Russia’s societal transformation towards this objective. The Russian elites will likely be incapable of convincing the wider Russian population of the necessity of this transformation.

Here his essay works against itself, because the endurance it demands requires precisely what Bezrukov elsewhere says Russia lacks: mutual trust, the decentralisation of initiative, elites who place the state above their own interests, and a system able to reform against elite resistance. He is therefore asking the most entrenched elements of the Russian system to carry out its most demanding transformation. He is asking a population never consulted on the confrontation to accept it, along with its costs and casualties, as the normal condition of life for a generation. ֍

Notes

Andrei Bezrukov, “The New War and What We Must Do” [Новая война и что нам делать], Russia in Global Affairs [Россия в глобальной политике], vol. 24, no. 4, July/August 2026, pp. 32–49 (in Russian). DOI: 10.31278/1810-6439-2026-24-4-32-49.

Previous Article

As Western governments weigh the terms of a possible settlement in Ukraine, it is worth examining how the war is described within Russia’s foreign-policy establishment. The question most often asked is what Russia's strategy is. A more fundamental question is what the Russian leadership and elites believe about the direction of history. Strategy is derived from that belief, not the other way round, and Andrei Bezrukov’s essay is especially valuable because it describes the worldview openly.

In July 2026, Andrei Bezrukov published an essay titled “The New War and What We Must Do” in the publication Russia in Global Affairs. Bezrukov is not a marginal commentator. He is a retired colonel of Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, a professor at MGIMO and a member of the presidium of the Council on Foreign and Defence Policy, and his essay was prepared specifically for discussion at the high-level annual assembly of the council.

His diagnosis is bleak and, for someone in his position, unusually direct about Russia’s weaknesses. His central claim is that the war in Ukraine is not primarily a contest over spheres of influence in Eastern Europe. It is a wider struggle over whether the West can impose its will on Russia.

Within this framing, the war is existential. Bezrukov states directly that only a clear victory will satisfy Russia. Negotiations are presented not as an exit from the conflict, but as part of the struggle itself. Assuming this essay reflects an influential strand of Russian strategic thinking, a ceasefire or a compromise is not around the corner.

A Window into the Russian Worldview

Bezrukov’s unusual biography is a key reason why the essay deserves attention.

For more than two decades, beginning in the 1980s, he served in the KGB and the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service as part of the illegals programme, living in the West under the cover identity Donald Howard Heathfield. He was arrested by the FBI, pleaded guilty in 2010 to conspiracy to act as an agent of a foreign government and was returned to Russia in a prisoner exchange.

He now serves as president of the Association for the Export of Technological Sovereignty and as a professor in the Department of Applied Analysis of International Issues at MGIMO, the university run by the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs that trains much of the country’s diplomatic and intelligence cadre.

More importantly, Bezrukov is a member of the presidium of the Council on Foreign and Defence Policy (SVOP), an established forum whose members include figures connected to Russia’s political, military and intelligence institutions. The Russian Minister of Foreign Affairs Sergei Lavrov attended the council’s annual assembly in May 2026. The council is also a founding organisation of the Valdai Discussion Club, which Vladimir Putin attends regularly.

An essay written from his position can be interpreted in several ways. It may reflect ideas already gaining ground within the establishment, or it may test how particular arguments are received at home and abroad. Either way, an article prepared for the SVOP assembly by a member of its presidium deserves to be taken seriously. It is not an official policy document, nor does it represent the views of the entire Russian elite. It does, however, offer a credible view into an influential current in Russian strategic thinking.

A World in Redivision

Bezrukov’s starting point is that the world has entered “a period of another total redivision of the world” — передел мира — which will be defined not by prosperity, but by survival. It is also an official narrative of the Russian state leadership, that the world is undergoing a power transition into a multipolar world, where the Western countries do not hold a central position.

In his worldview, Western countries face the loss of their control over global financial, informational, logistical and political systems. Their military-technological dominance and their capacity to exercise influence through soft power are also, he argues, becoming things of the past.

He expects Western elites to fight to preserve their position. He frames their policies directed against Russia as a response to decline and describes war as one of the few remaining instruments through which they can maintain domestic power and global influence. In his worldview, nuclear deterrence remains essential for Russia, because the agreements, rules and expectations on which trust and predictability once rested have been destroyed.

The wars in Ukraine and Iran are presented as the opening stage of a wider struggle over the redivision of the world. Bezrukov expects more conflicts to emerge in the southern and eastern regions of the Eurasian continent, where the United States and China are competing for influence over what he describes as the world’s most promising future markets. He also points to, as catalysts for conflict, the region’s rapid economic growth, expanding military potential and defence industries, disputed historical borders, religious and ethnic divisions, large youth populations and increasingly ambitious political leaderships.

The weakness in his reasoning is its dependence on the expectation of inevitable Western decline and eventual collapse. Russian strategic thought has repeatedly treats the West as weak, divided and trapped in an irreversible trajectory leading to the loss of power. Yet Russia’s large-scale invasion of Ukraine united Western countries in support of Ukraine and against Russia to an extent that few expected before the war. It gave the European project a renewed purpose and forced European governments to confront questions they had previously postponed.

This does not invalidate Bezrukov’s wider argument about a changing distribution of global power. It does, however, illustrate the danger for Russia of allowing grand historical and global narratives to overshadow the immediate consequences of Russian policy.

Three Challenges and an Admission of Weakness

The most striking part of Bezrukov’s essay is its honesty about Russia’s own condition.

He identifies three challenges that could destabilise the country within the next few years. The first is the transfer of power from one generation to the next, which he notes has “always been particularly difficult” in Russia’s vertical system of government. The second is the accelerating transformation of the technological base of the world economy, which could cost Russia its remaining competitiveness. The third is the bloody redivision of spheres of influence in the world, which already requires substantial sacrifices from Russia.

The first admission is particularly notable. Bezrukov is acknowledging that the present Russian political order is approaching a generational transition and that this transition carries a risk of destabilisation. He is equally direct about the system’s internal failings. He describes a socio-economic model that is unsuited to the country’s current tasks, an entrenched bureaucracy that slows down initiative and a group of beneficiaries in the upper levels of society who are capable of blocking change during peacetime.

The global struggle and war, in his line of argumentation, create an opportunity for transformation. It allows the Russian state to reconsider the economic and political system inherited from the 1990s, reorganise its institutions and remove obstacles that would otherwise remain protected.

This admission of weakness does not soften Bezrukov’s case for war. It hardens it. “If Russia does not mobilise for victory,” he writes, “the question of its survival will arise.” Russia’s fragility becomes an argument not for reducing its exposure to conflict, but for committing itself more fully to the war effort as part of the wider international struggle.

Only a Clear Victory

The most consequential ideas in the essay are related to Ukraine.

Bezrukov frames the war as “a struggle to eliminate an existential threat from the West”. It requires, he argues, the exertion of all Russia’s human and material resources, because “only a clear victory will satisfy Russia” — Россию устроит только явная победа. He is not necessarily calling for the conquest of all Ukraine. The meaning of “clear victory” is left undefined. Yet he is ruling out any outcome that resembles a draw or can be interpreted as a Russian defeat.

That distinction leaves little room for compromise. A negotiated ceasefire would most likely produce an ambiguous result. Both sides could claim success, the underlying political conflict would remain unresolved and the settlement would depend on agreements which Bezrukov already considers unreliable. In his reading, this situation would act as a prelude to renewal of hostilities in Ukraine or in another region. This is the underlying logic behind Russia’s commitment to the war and a primary obstacle preventing a ceasefire.

His reasoning is explicit. The war is not ultimately about drawing new lines of influence in Eastern Europe. It is about whether the collective West can impose its will on Russia. If it cannot, Bezrukov argues, the loss of Western influence will become inevitable. The stakes are therefore systemic. In his framework, a Russian victory would demonstrate that Western power can be resisted, while a failure to mobilise for victory would place Russia’s own survival at risk.

Bezrukov is also clear-eyed about Russia’s isolation. He correctly states that the “world majority” has not united behind Russia. China and India are attempting to avoid direct conflict with the West. China, he notes, is benefiting from supplies to countries involved in the conflict and from discounts on Russian natural resources.

Notably, he does not address the supply of components to Russia’s military industries through third countries, which has allowed sanctions to be circumvented in support of the Russian military industry. Yet his broader point stands: Russia is not leading a cohesive anti-Western coalition. Its major partners are pursuing their own interests, even taking advantage of the situation, and seeking to avoid the risks Russia has willingly chosen to accept.

This does not change the calculation expressed in his essay. Negotiations offered by the West are presented as a ruse: a game of “good cop and bad cop” in which European governments are escalating while the United States offers agreements that Bezrukov claims would not be fulfilled. Pressure and attrition towards Russia are not described as an incentive towards settlement. Instead they are the accepted costs of a struggle which is framed as existential.

The Limits of Compromise

The value of Bezrukov’s essay is that it makes explicit a worldview in which there is little opportunity for a negotiated ceasefire. If Western policy assumes that sufficient economic pressure and battlefield attrition will eventually produce compromise, it is confronting a Russian strategic framework which has sacrifice and struggle as its central element. In Bezrukov’s line of argument, economic losses, technological pressure and human sacrifice are not reasons to end the war. They are reasons to mobilise the state and society more thoroughly.

This does not mean that Russian policy can never change. There may be a threshold of military, economic or political pressure that forces a recalculation in Russian policy. Bezrukov’s essay is not evidence that the Russian leadership is willing or able to endure unlimited costs. It does, however, suggest that those who share his worldview do not believe that threshold has been reached. They expect Russia to endure more pain and to impose further costs on its economy and population rather than accept an outcome that can be interpreted as a defeat.

This produces an internal tension inside Russia that Bezrukov’s essay does not resolve. The Russian leadership may define the conflict as an existential struggle against the West, but the population was never asked directly to make that choice. Earlier widespread support for policies such as the occupation and annexation of the Crimean Peninsula in 2014 rested, in part, on the assumption that ordinary Russians would not be required to bear intolerable costs for the country’s geopolitical ambitions. They could continue to work, live and remain largely separate from politics and conflicts outside of Russia’s borders.

The war in Ukraine is placing that assumption under increasing pressure. The Russian leadership must persuade the population to remain committed to a prolonged geopolitical struggle while the costs to businesses, livelihoods and standards of living continue to accumulate. Bezrukov’s answer is societal and economic mobilisation. His essay calls for Russia to become, organisationally and mentally, a “warring society”. Yet it remains unclear whether the Russian population will accept that transformation, or how long the political system can sustain it.

A War Without a Clear End

This is one essay, not a declaration of policy. Writing from within Russian elite circles may express consensus, advocate for a particular course or test domestic and foreign reactions. It cannot directly establish what policies and plans are being drafted inside the Kremlin. Nevertheless, Bezrukov provides a well-sourced account of how an influential section of the Russian foreign-policy establishment understands the war. The direction of his argument is consistent: there can be no ceasefire that resembles a draw, negotiations cannot be trusted and Russia must prepare to endure the costs of a prolonged conflict and the wider systemic struggle.

The essay therefore reveals a strategic contradiction. Bezrukov argues that the era of wars ending in decisive military victories is over. He describes a new form of conflict based on attrition, destabilisation and permanent pressure across military, economic, technological and informational spheres. Yet he simultaneously insists that only a clear victory will satisfy Russia. He demands a decisive political outcome from a form of war expected to continue without a decisive end.

How Russia proposes to organise its state, economy and society for that conflict, and how it intends to fight and endure an era of international power transition, will be the subject of the second part of this analysis. ֍

Notes

Andrei Bezrukov, “The New War and What We Must Do” [Новая война и что нам делать], Russia in Global Affairs [Россия в глобальной политике], vol. 24, no. 4, July/August 2026, pp. 32–49 (in Russian). DOI: 10.31278/1810-6439-2026-24-4-32-49.

Previous Article

Russia’s military build-up along the borders of the Baltic states, Finland and Norway is directed by the recently re-established Leningrad Military District. Its ground component is relatively well documented. Estonia’s Foreign Intelligence Service has traced a reform intended to expand the Russian armed forces to 1.5 million personnel, which it views as preparation for a possible conflict with NATO within the next decade.

The air component is much less understood, even among close observers of Russia’s armed forces.

This Aerospace Forces formation has a formidable official title: the 6th Guards Leningrad Red Banner, Order of Zhukov Army of Air Force and Air Defence, based in St Petersburg. On 22 December 2025, Vladimir Putin awarded it the honorary title of “Guards” - a Soviet-era distinction for battlefield success.

The decree used the standard formula, praising heroism ‘in combat actions to defend the Fatherland and the interests of the state in conditions of armed conflicts’. The regional broadcaster in Leningrad Oblast, the territory surrounding St Petersburg, was more explicit. Reporting the governor’s thanks, it said the distinction recognised the army’s role in repelling Ukrainian drone attacks on the region.

Why the Leningrad Military District Returned

On 26 February 2024, Putin signed a decree abolishing the Western Military District and restoring the Moscow and Leningrad military districts, both of which had previously existed until 2010. The change took effect on 1 March. Russian officials linked it directly to Finland’s accession to NATO in 2023 and Sweden’s then-imminent membership.

Nordic analysts reached the same conclusion, and went even further. In the most detailed published study of the new military district, Juha Kukkola of Finland’s National Defence University argues that its restoration shows Russia’s leadership regards a land war in the north-western theatre - local, regional or large-scale - as possible from the 2030s onwards. The Swedish Defence Research Agency likewise sees the change as preparation for a larger force in north-western Russia and a return to more centralised command.

Yet the new military district has no air and air defence forces under its direct command.

Aviation and ground-based air defence were removed from the military districts in the 2024 reform and placed directly under the Aerospace Forces, or VKS, in Moscow. The 6th Guards Air Force and Air Defence Army therefore protects the district’s airspace without directly subordinated under the district itself. In practice, the army’s area of responsibility extends from Kola Peninsula in the North to the borders of Estonia and Latvia in the South and includes also the Kaliningrad enclave on the coast of the Baltic Sea, broadly matching the ground force theatre as mapped by Estonian intelligence.

What an Air Force and Air Defence Army Does

The name is literal. An air force and air defence army (армия ВВС и ПВО) controls almost every asset that fights within its assigned airspace: aviation formations, army aviation helicopters, surface-to-air missile divisions equipped with systems including the long-range S-400, and the radar units that build the air picture on which the system depends. As described in a January 2026 AirForces Monthly survey of Russia’s reforms, a single headquarters coordinates air combat over the St Petersburg, the Leningrad, Pskov and Novgorod regions, and Karelia.

The 2024 reforms expanded the reach of the formation. In Kaliningrad, Russia’s Baltic exclave, the 689th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment at Chkalovsk transferred from the Baltic Fleet to the 6th Guard’s Air Force and Air Defence Army. Its aircraft were repainted, replacing naval markings with ‘VKS Rossii’. Regional media say the regiment patrols Russia’s air borders and flies missions in the war against Ukraine.

In Karelia, beside Finland, Petrozavodsk officials received the commander of what regional reports called the newly deployed 149th Composite Aviation Division in April 2025, as the Karelian Republic prepared to host a new army corps. Russia’s defence ministry has not yet confirmed where the division is placed within the 6th Guards Air Force and Air Defence Army’s formal structure. Fighter aviation is already established as part of the formation: the 159th Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment at Besovets, outside Petrozavodsk, marked its 85th anniversary in May 2025, with official speeches citing its service in the war.

Unification Under a Single Command

Until recently, north-western Russia had two such armies. The other was the Northern Fleet’s 45th Air Force and Air Defence Army, based near Murmansk at Severomorsk and responsible for the Arctic approaches.

It ceased to exist in 2023. That December, Izvestia reported that a new Composite Aviation Corps of the Northern Fleet had been formed ‘on the basis of the 45th Air Force and Air Defence Army’ . A corps ranks below an army. The fleet retained its aircraft in the new formation, while the 45th Army’s ground-based air-defence units passed to the 6th Guards Air Force and Air Defence Army, according to AirForces Monthly.

The 6th thus became the only army of its kind in Russia’s north-west.

The change was easy to overlook - and even specialists did so. After Lieutenant-General Alexander Otroshchenko, commander of the new corps, was killed in the crash of an An-26 transport aircraft in Crimea at the end of March 2026, early wire reports described him as commander of the ‘45th Army of the Northern Fleet’s Air Force and Air Defence’ - a formation that had been gone for more than two years. Interfax, quoting Murmansk’s governor, used the correct title, and the syndicated copy was later amended.

The Ongoing Struggle Against Drones

In March 2026, Ukrainian long-range drones set fuel tanks ablaze at Primorsk, Russia’s largest Baltic oil terminal, and halted exports at both Primorsk and Ust-Luga. Satellite imagery later reviewed by Reuters indicated that at least 40 per cent of Primorsk’s storage capacity and about a quarter of Ust-Luga’s petroleum-product tanks had been damaged.

In April, Leningrad Oblast’s governor, Alexander Drozdenko, told the regional parliament that the territory had become ‘not only a border region but a frontline one’. The number of drones reportedly downed over the region by that point varies by source. Fontanka put the first-quarter total at 243; TASS’s English service reported 343 from the same speech. Neither figure can be independently verified.

Drozdenko has attempted to put together a concrete programme for protection of infrastructure. It included seven reinforced-concrete observation towers in the Kirishi and Kingisepp districts, costing 855 million roubles - about $11 million - as well as 80 mobile air-defence teams already operating and another 54 which were due by 1 June 2026.

The army designed to confront NATO air power in the north has spent the past year defending oil terminals from Ukrainian attacks.

The most intense single day came on 6 June. RBC followed the regional tally through a morning-long alert to a final count of 144 drones reportedly downed over the oblast. A fire broke out at a defence ministry site near Bolshaya Izhora, and more than 600 residents were evacuated.

An additional 65 mobile fire groups, involving 298 people, are being formed in the region to be operational by 1 August. Komsomolskaya Pravda described them as the last line of defence for critical infrastructure: small teams of reservists using specially equipped pick-up trucks and receiving a bounty of up to 100,000 roubles (about $1290) for each drone they shoot down.

The volunteers sign reservist contracts with the defence ministry, while the regional budget pays for vehicles, equipment and communications. The chain of command leads upward: the groups ‘work under the leadership of the 6th Guards Army of Air Force and Air Defence’ . RBC reported the same arrangement in April, adding that the companies whose facilities are protected also help finance the equipment.

Concluding Thoughts

The counter-drone campaign has become central to the way Russia presents the 6th Guards Air Force and Air Defence Army. The decree granting Guards status is vague, but the governor’s public praise, the fire groups under the army’s direction and the bounty scheme all connect its current identity to the defence of Leningrad Oblast.

Its original mission has not disappeared. Juha Kukkola argues that the north-west’s air defence posture is an important measure of how seriously Russia’s armed forces judge the risk of attack from the north-western direction. Its importance increased when Finland and Sweden joined NATO.

Our assessment is that the drone war has extended the army’s founding principle of unified command for the whole region’s air combat down to the lowest level. A formation built around S-400 missile regiments and aviation formations now also directs observation towers and reservist anti-air teams. That low-altitude layer would count for little in the opening phase of a larger war, when the threat overhead is strike aviation and cruise missiles. The two jobs need different equipment and do not draw on the same supplies, so the main cost of the drone war to the army is command attention and trained reservist crews.

Finland’s first F-35s are due to arrive at Lapland Air Wing this autumn. Kukkola expects the Leningrad Military District’s new units and infrastructure to be ready no earlier than the start of the 2030s, subject to one important condition: as long as the war in Ukraine continues at its present intensity, development in the north-west will remain slow. The clearest evidence of whether the 6th Guards Air Force and Air Defence Army is overcoming its current disadvantages will come in small, verifiable steps - official confirmation from the defence ministry that the 149th Division belongs to it, and, after the war, which regiments will return to strengthen the northwestern direction. ֍

Previous Article

Naval affairs are rising in importance for Russia’s political leadership. Russia’s highest political authority on the subject, Nikolai Patrushev, head of the Russian Maritime Collegium and a key presidential aide, outlined the priorities of the Russian Navy for the coming decades in a coordinated media campaign.

The story begins on 3 July, when the Council for the Strategic Development of the Navy, a body of Russia’s Maritime Collegium (Морская коллегия), met to review a draft of a central official naval strategic document, currently under revision. The document is titled Fundamentals of State Policy in the Field of Naval Activity to 2050 (Основы государственной политики Российской Федерации в области военно-морской деятельности на период до 2050 года). The session was closed. The Collegium’s account of the meeting was published the same day.

Over the following twelve days Patrushev gave three interviews that together give a comprehensive view of the future direction of the Russian Navy. They were given to the Vesti news service on 10 July and to Komsomolskaya Pravda on 11 July, his seventy-fifth birthday, and to RIA Novosti on 15 July. The press release and the interviews can be interpreted as a coordinated campaign, with an objective of outlining in public the future direction of the Russian Navy.

Preservation and modernisation of the nuclear submarine fleet as the basis of naval nuclear deterrence comes first, in Patrushev’s own words. Three further priorities are outlined: securing Russian energy exports along the most important sea lanes, expansion of the naval unmanned capabilities, and expanding space-based reconnaissance and targeting capabilities in support of the Navy.

Patrushev and the Maritime Collegium

Patrushev turned 75 on 11 July. Earlier he directed the FSB, then served as Secretary of the Security Council, and now chairs the Maritime Collegium as a presidential aide with responsibility over Russian maritime policy.

His background is naval-technical rather than from the Navy itself: he is a 1974 graduate of the Leningrad Shipbuilding Institute, and he worked in its special design bureau on equipment for the GRU and the Navy before entering the KGB.

Rather than direct command authority, the Maritime Collegium has a coordinating role in developing Russia’s naval power as a whole. It aligns naval, shipbuilding, shipping and Arctic policy across ministries, and the chairman carries considerable influence over its direction. Its Council for the Strategic Development of the Navy met on 3 July.

Three Strategic Documents

The interviews name three documents, which together formulate a comprehensive strategy for the development of Russian naval power and the Navy itself.

The Fundamentals of State Policy in the Field of Naval Activity to 2050 (Основы государственной политики в области военно-морской деятельности) is currently a draft. It defines the threats and challenges Russia faces in the World Ocean and sets the goals, tasks and directions for naval activity. This document will most likely be public, as its previous version from 2017 was published as a presidential decree.

The Strategy for the Development of the Navy to 2050 (Стратегия развития Военно-Морского Флота до 2050 года) is an existing plan, in which threats from probable adversaries are already factored in. This strategy was confirmed on 30 May 2025. It was the first document of its kind in modern Russia, which underlines the importance Russia currently places on naval affairs.

The naval shipbuilding programme to 2050 (программа кораблестроения ВМФ до 2050 года) is still a draft, and Patrushev said the perceived threats receive particular attention there. The finalisation of this document is likely facing challenges. Designing the future composition of the Russian Navy is especially difficult in current circumstances. The ongoing war in Ukraine and the rapid technological development of naval drones makes future projections especially hard to settle.

The development of aerial and naval drones has exposed Russia’s current naval capabilities as highly vulnerable. Giving up the larger ships is not possible either. The larger ships are required to maintain continuous presence in the world’s oceans, secure shipping and show the flag to ensure national interests and demonstrate military presence. In a conflict, however, they will be acutely exposed to drones and long-range high-precision capabilities.

Therefore the core tasks and primary needs of the Russian Navy seem to be well defined, but how they will be provided for is likely a subject of heated discussion in Russian naval communities.

Russia’s Naval Threat Perceptions

The Fundamentals document defines threats before setting requirements, and at the 3 July session Patrushev named two specific threats he wanted written into the document.

The first is regional. He said it was important to include in Russia’s list of military dangers and threats the creation of a naval alliance of northern European states and Ukraine, whose activity substantially complicates the military-political situation in the western Arctic, the North Atlantic, and the North, Baltic and Black Seas. This is an interesting formulation. Patrushev does not say NATO. It names a regional grouping of countries with Ukrainian participation, and links it to a single continuous theatre from the European Arctic to the Black Sea.

Such a structure does not yet exist as an alliance, and it is unlikely that it will be. It will likely remain as a format for naval cooperation. The interesting point is that Russia takes it seriously enough to write it into its long-term official strategic document that will far outlive the current war.

The second is AUKUS. Its work equipping the Australian navy with modern nuclear submarines, and building capacity to control shipping in the Pacific and Indian Oceans, should also count among military dangers, Patrushev said.

The Doctrinal Priorities

Judging by the Maritime Collegium’s press release, the level of Russian naval ambition is rising. The goals set in the draft of the Fundamentals document are: “strategic and regional stability” in the World Ocean, the Navy as one of the most important instruments of foreign policy, and Russia’s standing as a great maritime power.

It should be noted that in Russian thinking, the most important pillar of strategic stability is the mutual capability to conduct large-scale nuclear strikes, which prevents a direct military conflict from breaking out between nuclear powers.

These goals are to be reached through balanced development of the Russian Navy to a level guaranteeing the defence of national interests across the World Ocean and the infliction of critical damage (критический ущерб) on any potential adversary. This is achieved through modernising and expanding the naval strategic nuclear and non-nuclear forces, the general-purpose naval groupings, and by prioritising the development of unmanned systems.

Asked what should be the priorities of Russian sea power, Patrushev answered that the most important task is preservation and modernisation of the nuclear submarine fleet as the basis of naval nuclear deterrence. Asked whether that was the main priority, he called it important but far from the only one.

The other priorities he mentioned are: development of military and civil infrastructure in the Arctic; coastal defence and coast guard functions across all Russian maritime areas; a full grouping of unmanned surface and underwater vehicles; deployment of a domestic maritime reconnaissance and targeting system based on Russia’s own satellite constellation; naval presence in distant regions; naval education and science; and, above all, a balanced fleet able to handle the whole range of tasks in peacetime and war.

Patrushev argued for protecting energy exports in economic terms. Without a navy able to provide security there will be no Russia, he told Vesti, because the country would be strangled economically, and so it also needs a strong merchant fleet. His concrete example was LNG. Russia needs to carry its own gas, and the plan had been to build carriers at the Zvezda yard in Primorsky Krai under contracts with South Korea; the South Koreans refused to carry out the contracts and then refused to supply components, and Patrushev’s conclusion was that Russia must build the LNG carriers itself.

The priority of developing the Russian reconnaissance satellite constellations is based on the experiences of the Ukraine war. Russian naval authorities have continuously expressed concern because the US and NATO space-based assets and drones have given Ukraine the edge in the informational and intelligence domain in the Black Sea.

This is one of the primary lessons of the war in Ukraine, which is directing Russia to prioritise space-based reconnaissance capabilities. This is a future core capability, designed to enable Russian naval long-range high-precision strikes. Reconnaissance and targeting are recognised as some of the most important capabilities in modern combat.

The Black Sea Lesson

Patrushev seems to downplay the significance of the naval lessons from the Black Sea. He turns his view further into the future and the competition with the United States. He notes that unmanned surface vessels (безэкипажные катера) are actively fighting in the Black Sea, but then rapidly moves on to the United States, and comments that it has already launched its first unmanned ships (безэкипажные корабли).

Patrushev expects naval developments to lead to a fundamentally different reality, driven by modern technology. Unmanned surface vessels are limited by seaworthiness, autonomy and their power source; unmanned ships in comparison are capable of working in the far sea and ocean zones. Flotillas of unmanned ships, integrated by artificial intelligence and supported by drone swarms in the air, on the water and under the surface, would be a strike force difficult to counter.

Russian authorities are taking operational lessons from naval warfare in the Black Sea, but this seems to be only the first stage of development. The Black Sea is an enclosed sea, with limited ranges and operational duration. Russian authorities acknowledge the necessity of looking further into the future and developing larger unmanned surface ships to prevent Russia from falling behind in the naval domain.

Patrushev names presence in distant regions as a key task and insists the fleet must be balanced. The platforms he cites as shipbuilding successes, which he says both perform in combat and interest foreign customers, are submarines, frigates, corvettes, small missile ships and mine countermeasures vessels.

This creates a contradiction and competing priorities, since Russia must emphasise the development of unmanned systems across the air, surface and subsurface domains while continuing to build larger ships to maintain presence in distant maritime regions. Patrushev calls this balanced development of the Navy, but the competing priorities are difficult to resolve.

Concluding Thoughts

Russia continues to insist on maintaining its position as a premier maritime power, but rapidly developing technology, limited resources for developing the Navy and a weakening industrial base are likely to constrain these ambitions.

The Russian authorities may provide an accurate diagnosis of the priority tasks and problems they are facing: the fundamental national interests at stake, rapidly developing technologies, a weakening correlation of forces in European maritime zones, the lack of a technological basis for space-based infrastructure, and maritime trade corridors coming increasingly under threat.

How to resolve these issues will cause challenges for Russian authorities for years to come. There are two underlying contradictions in the development of the Russian Navy.

The first contradiction is between Russian ambitions and the actual resources they are capable of providing for the development of the Navy.

The second contradiction facing the Russian Navy is between procuring smaller unmanned naval systems for effective naval combat and the need to keep building larger and more vulnerable ships to maintain presence in distant regions of the World Ocean. The latter is essential to secure Russian national interests and to serve the ambition of maintaining the Navy as an effective instrument of foreign policy.

Even though the attention is currently on the war in Ukraine, the long-term development of the Russian Navy and Russia’s wider Armed Forces remains an important topic. The Navy seems to be increasingly prioritised at the highest political level, which indicates that significant resources will be directed to its development. This will affect the correlation of naval forces in the Arctic, the Baltic Sea and the Black Sea in the coming years and decades, which is why the topic deserves close attention. ֍

Previous Article

Russia’s glide-bomb campaign against Ukraine is well documented. FDD’s Long War Journal has tracked the weapons since January 2023, while Ukrainian officials say they are now being used by the thousand each month. Far less visible is how the Russian military codifies these tactics for its own officers.

An article in issue 11 of the 2025 edition of Voyennaya Mysl (Military Thought), the Russian General Staff’s military-theoretical journal, provides a rare account. Published under the journal’s military-art rubric, it describes how the Russian Aerospace Forces, or VKS, seek to attack Ukrainian targets without bringing their aircraft within range of Ukrainian air defences.

The authors are Lieutenant Colonel A. S. Afanasyev, Lieutenant Colonel A. A. Artemyev, Colonel A. N. Kochnev and reserve Colonel P. E. Ivanov. Two hold degrees in technical rather than military sciences, suggesting particular expertise in weapons employment.

Their subject is what Russian doctrine calls the ‘fire destruction of the enemy’: the use of aviation to engage targets while remaining outside hostile air-defence engagement zones. The article concludes with four broad recommendations for improving these methods.

How the mission package works

The article’s organising principle is repeated throughout: aircraft should release their weapons without entering the engagement zones of Ukrainian air defences.

To achieve this, nearly every sortie is organised around what the authors call a tactical-purpose group (ГТН). Rather than a single strike formation, this is a combined mission package comprising:

• a reconnaissance element of drones, or Su-34 and Su-35S crews using their radars;

• the strike element itself, drawn from bomber, ground-attack or army aviation;

• a jamming element of Mi-8MTPR electronic-warfare helicopters, which remains on station throughout the mission;

• a search-and-rescue element of Mi-8 helicopters; and

• an airspace-control element of Su-35S fighters carrying air-to-air and anti-radar missiles.

Together, these elements conduct a single coordinated mission.

Glide bombs and drone-designated missiles

For Su-34 fighter-bombers, the authors describe a profile that has become standard. Crews approach at very low altitude over their own territory, climb briefly to release bombs fitted with the UMPK glide kit, and then turn away.

The authors give the weapon a range of up to 90 kilometres. Open-source estimates generally place standard UMPK kits at about 40–70 kilometres and extended-range variants at 80–95 kilometres. Later versions tested towards the end of 2025 may travel farther still. If the authors’ figure describes routine employment rather than a theoretical maximum, it would suggest that the newer kits have become the operational reference point.

For fixed targets such as bridges, pontoon crossings and railway junctions, the article describes a more complex division of labour. The launching aircraft does not designate its own target. Instead, a drone flying ahead provides laser illumination, allowing the aircraft to release its missile and withdraw before entering the engagement zones of Ukrainian air defences.

The authors emphasise the coordination this requires. The attack sector and launch range must be fixed in advance so that laser designation can be maintained throughout the engagement.

No independent reporting has confirmed this hand-off in Russian service. It should therefore be read as the authors’ account, rather than as established practice. If employed as described, however, it gives the drone a second role in the kill chain: not merely finding the target, but guiding the weapon onto it.

Rockets, helicopters and calculated timing

Ground-attack aircraft and army aviation are presented in similarly codified terms.

Unguided rockets are fired during a pull-up manoeuvre. The aircraft approaches at low altitude, climbs briefly to loft its rockets at maximum range, and then makes a descending turn towards home. Aircraft pass through in pairs, separated by intervals of several minutes.

The authors add that a new rocket with a penetrating high-explosive fragmentation warhead has extended the range of these attacks.

Helicopter packages operate in threes. A Ka-52 engages the target and uses its self-protection system to cover the formation. An Mi-28 provides additional firepower and protects the Ka-52 during its attack run. An Mi-8 remains available for search and rescue.

Against moving columns, the authors describe a method based on timing and fixed landmarks. Commanders identify bridges, crossroads, tree lines or other points that an advancing column is expected to reach between 60 and 90 minutes after setting out. The helicopters then fire from launch lines intended to keep them beyond the reach of man-portable and short-range air-defence systems.

Lofted rocket attacks of this kind have been documented since the first weeks of the war. What is unusual here is not the manoeuvre itself, but its codification: the timing method and the formal division of roles among the three helicopters have not previously appeared in Western reporting in this form.

The admission that matters

Afanasyev and his co-authors acknowledge one operational problem.

‘The enemy began to employ the tactic of engaging our helicopters in the air with unmanned aerial vehicles and FPV drones,’ they write, ‘in connection with which helicopter crews began to employ the Volnorez system.’

Volnorez is a compact electronic-warfare system first seen fitted to Russian tanks. It detects an attacking drone and suppresses the radio link used to control it. A helicopter variant has reportedly been undergoing trials since August 2024.

The article’s diagram depicts drones above the helicopters, the jammer’s protective bubble around the formation and a safety line running across the battlefield.

Yet the article says nothing about fibre-optic guidance.

On 20 March 2026, roughly four months after the issue went to press, Ukrainian forces recorded the first known destruction of a Ka-52 by a fibre-optic FPV drone near Pokrovsk. Such a drone is controlled through a thin cable and emits no radio signal. A radio-frequency jammer therefore has no control link to disrupt.

What the article reveals

Read as institutional evidence, the article captures a military lessons-learned process in motion. Front-line practices have been converted into categories, diagrams and recommendations, with a lag of roughly a year, and published in a journal intended for the General Staff’s own officers.

Whether those lessons alter behaviour at the front is a separate question, and not one that a journal article can answer.

All the tactics described point in the same direction. The glide-bomb release, the drone-designated missile, the lofted rocket attack and the helicopter launch lines are designed to keep aircraft outside Ukrainian air defence engagement zones.

Second, the authors regard both close air support aviation and army aviation as relevant even on a drone-saturated battlefield. The emphasis also suggests that they expect the air war to continue along familiar lines: Ukrainian air defences are to be avoided rather than systematically suppressed.

Drones are woven through almost every stage of this system. They conduct reconnaissance, illuminate targets for guided missiles and allow forward air controllers to direct attacks against moving columns. The one threat the authors openly acknowledge — FPV attacks on Russian helicopters — is also unmanned.

The article cannot, however, support broader conclusions about how widely these tactics are used, how effective they are, how many operational helicopters carry Volnorez or what now constitutes Russian doctrine. A single article marks one boundary of an internal military conversation; it does not define that conversation in full.

Two forms of evidence would strengthen the picture presented here: independent open-source confirmation of a drone-designated missile strike, and photographs showing Volnorez systems fitted to operational helicopters. Conversely, another successful fibre-optic drone attack on a Russian helicopter would further expose the limits of the proposed countermeasure.

Notes

Primary source: A. S. Afanasyev, A. A. Artemyev, A. N. Kochnev and P. E. Ivanov, ‘Improving the Tactics of Air Engagement of the Enemy in Modern Military Conflicts’ («Совершенствование тактики авиационного поражения противника в современных военных конфликтах»), Voyennaya Mysl, No. 11, 2025, read in translation. The 2024 article it cites is S. V. Dronov, G. A. Vasilyev and A. N. Kiryushin, ‘Specifics of Aviation Tactics in Modern Warfare and Ways for Its Improvement’, Voyennaya Mysl, No. 1, 2024, pp. 15–21; Dronov commanded the Russian Air Force from 2019 to 2024.

Images are translated by the author from the original Russian-language source.

Previous Article

By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

Introduction

“The use of unmanned aerial vehicles is one of the modern methods of conducting armed struggle, which adjusts all others, regardless of the service branch and branch of arms of the Armed Forces in whose interests they are used.”

– V.V. Putin

The Russian Navy’s performance in the Black Sea since February 2022 has been far worse than expected. The loss of the cruiser Moskva, a sustained Ukrainian drone and missile campaign against the Black Sea Fleet’s infrastructure and surface fleet, and the eventual withdrawal of naval assets from Sevastopol add up to a strategic failure. A fleet built for naval dominance could not operate freely even in its home waters.

These failures are now being closely analysed in Russia. Inside the Russian armed forces’ research establishments, they are generating a body of theoretical writing on what the experience reveals about the future of naval combat, and how the fleet must adapt.

One of the most authoritative recent contributions has come from Admiral Nikolai Evmenov, in an article titled ‘The Use of Unmanned Aerial Vehicles in Modern Naval Combat’ (Применение беспилотных летательных аппаратов в современном морском бою), published in the Russian Ministry of Defence’s official naval journal, Morskoi Sbornik (Морской Сборник). His central claim is far-reaching: UAVs have not merely refined naval combat but transformed its content, and a fleet that means to compete must build its future combat model around unmanned systems.

Why Evmenov’s voice has authority

Evmenov served as Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Navy from 3 May 2019 to 10 March 2024, through the opening years of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. He now heads the Admiral Kuznetsov Naval Academy (Военно-морская академия имени Адмирала Флота Советского Союза Н.Г. Кузнецова) in St Petersburg, Russia’s premier naval higher-education institution and a combined military training and research centre. The post gives him authority over both the education of naval officers and the direction of naval research – the two channels through which ideas become force structure, procurement, and doctrine.

He is also one of the most prolific writers on naval theory in contemporary Russia, a regular contributor to Voennaia mysl’ (Военная Мысль) and Morskoi Sbornik. Both are official Ministry of Defence publications, so appearances in them signal institutional legitimacy and acceptance for his views. Operational experience commanding the Navy at war, authority over naval education and research, and an established record of theoretical publication together give Evmenov an authoritative standing in the Russian naval community.

The changing substance of naval combat

Evmenov’s primary argument concerns the nature of naval warfare itself. He opens his article with the words of Vladimir Putin quoted above, and the choice is deliberate: Russia’s political and naval leadership appear to be converging on a single view, that unmanned systems are central to the future of war.

«совершенствование морского боя в современных условиях ведения боевых действий на море с использованием БПЛА будет заключаться не в изменении установленной организации действий сил (войск) в пространстве и во времени, а в изменении содержания морского боя»

The improvement of naval combat in modern conditions will consist not in changing the established organisation of forces in space and in time, but in changing the content (содержание) of naval combat.

The word содержание is doing the work here. It denotes the substance or content of naval warfare, not its outward arrangement: the change Evmenov describes is not an adjustment to how naval forces fight, but a change in what naval combat is.

He sets this against a recent past. Ten to twelve years ago, UAVs were confined to supporting roles – aerial reconnaissance, target designation, and battle damage assessment. They extended the capabilities of traditional naval forces but did not replace them.

That relationship has now reversed. UAVs have become a primary capability for completing combat tasks, including the destruction of enemy targets through direct fires and electronic suppression. Evmenov’s projection goes further still: tactical actions in naval combat will eventually be conducted exclusively by robotic and unmanned systems.

On this view, a fleet without sufficient UAVs does not merely lack specific capabilities; it faces significant disadvantages against an opponent whose formations and tactical units are measurably more effective in combat, and able to engage its opponents at longer ranges.

Global trends and the lessons of Ukraine

Two things shape Russian naval thought here: international developments, watched closely in Russia, and the experience of the war in Ukraine. Evmenov identifies six principal trends in UAV development among the leading countries:

- falling production costs, which improve overall cost-effectiveness;

- AI-enabled swarm control;

- closer integration of UAVs with manned aviation;

- an expanding range of tasks, up to the full replacement of manned systems;

- the development of air-, sea-, and ground-based launch platforms;

- and the emergence of hybrid UAVs able to operate across domains, such as air-land and air-sea.

From Ukraine he draws two principal empirical lessons. The first concerns situational awareness. Among the most consequential factors in combat is the commander’s knowledge of the situation, and in a fast-changing environment that knowledge must be supplied continuously and in real time; reconnaissance UAVs are among the primary means of providing it.

The second concerns targeting precision. The accuracy with which a target is located directly determines the effectiveness of a strike, and such precision is now within reach through reconnaissance drones combined with automated AI-assisted data processing and machine vision systems that identify priority targets and can correct fire against them in real time.

His most striking claim concerns the attacks on the Black Sea Fleet itself. The massed Ukrainian strikes, combining UAVs and unmanned surface vehicles against Black Sea Fleet basing points, were conducted, he states, with reconnaissance support from the US Navy’s strategic UAV, the RQ-4C Triton, operating within the American Broad Area Maritime Surveillance system (BAMS).

The acknowledgement is notable on two counts. First, a Russian admiral is stating, in an official MoD publication, that American strategic ISR contributed to the strikes that damaged and displaced his fleet. Second, he treats the Triton/BAMS architecture not as an accusation against the United States but as a model of the kind of persistent maritime surveillance the Russian Navy must build for itself.

A future force in three tiers

Evmenov argues that the Russian Navy needs a three-tier UAV architecture. At the top sit airfield-based strategic and operational-tactical reconnaissance-strike drones, flown by naval aviation as the fleet’s long-range, persistent surveillance and strike arm.

In the middle is a category that has drawn little notice in Western analysis: operational-tactical, ship-based vertical take-off and landing (VTOL) UAVs, again within naval aviation, able to redeploy onto ships equipped with helicopter decks. This intermediate tier bridges the fixed airfield component and the shipborne one, giving surface combatants longer-range aerial reach without dedicated carrier infrastructure.

At the tactical, unit level, ships carry fixed-wing and rotary-wing tactical UAVs, loitering munitions, and FPV drones. Evmenov even envisages light tactical UAVs for submarines, launched from containers deployed through the torpedo tube.

Crucially, he states that the Russian Navy is already executing a plan (осуществляется план) to equip surface ships and coastal defence units with UAVs of various classes, and that UAV units of different types and designations are already being formed within naval aviation. The inclusion of coastal defence troops matters: the effort reaches beyond the fleet’s ships to the Navy’s land-based coastal defence arm.

Evmenov’s near-term priority is to raise the strike and reconnaissance capabilities of existing UAV systems, and to integrate artificial intelligence into naval command systems. The immediate programme for the surface fleet is an operational-tactical UAV system built around a ship-based VTOL UAV. The medium-term objective is more ambitious: a fixed-wing reconnaissance-strike UAV at the strategic and operational-tactical level, intended as a key future strike capability. Further ahead, he identifies anti-submarine warfare, transport, and special tasks as the next areas of expansion.

A vision for the future - not yet capability

This is not a speculative essay. It is a doctrinal argument, made by the head of Russia’s leading naval academic institution in the Ministry of Defence’s official journal, and drawing on the operational experience of the Navy that Evmenov himself commanded through the opening years of a war that taught it the painful lessons of modern naval warfare. The claim that UAVs are transforming the substance of naval combat may signal a coming reform of the Russian Navy.

The medium- and longer-term ambitions show its scope. UAVs are to expand across a widening range of Navy missions, above all in reconnaissance and strike: persistent surveillance of maritime and coastal areas, and an increase in the number of available sensors. They are also to expand the quantity and the types of strike assets the fleet can field, with coastal troops and naval aviation taking a larger part in naval combat as long-range strike assets grow within their organizations.

The planned move into anti-submarine warfare would extend unmanned aviation into the undersea domain. Taken together, these point to a Navy that is not bolting UAVs onto an existing force structure but rethinking how the fundamental tasks of naval forces are to be done, with traditional capabilities taking a secondary role in many respects.

It should be noted that Evmenov does not assess whether the Russian Navy can translate this doctrine into operational capability under sanctions, and amid the industrial demands of an attritional war. That is the question that matters, and the one we will keep watching. ֍

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By Andreas Turunen
Mellenion

Introduction

The use of the air-to-air R-37M missile is a known phenomenon in the war in Ukraine, and it has been observed by several analysts who follow the air war closely. In recent comments to Business Insider, the RUSI analyst Justin Bronk noted that the R-37M has become a standard armament on the Su-35S.

Russian military authors have actively been discussing the capabilities of the R-37M, offering a useful window into how Russia sees the development of the air war in Ukraine. Colonel A. Yu. Stepkin, in his Voyennaya Mysl article ‘Tactics of Employment of Aviation Guided Missiles “Air-to-Air” of Long Range in the Course of the SMO’ [1], provides an interesting analytical account of why and how the Russian Aerospace Forces have employed the long-range air-to-air missile R-37M, NATO name AA-13 AXEHEAD, against Ukrainian air targets.

Stepkin not only explains the benefits the missile has provided for the conduct of aerial combat operations in Ukraine. He also appears to offer a candid account of the shortcomings of the Russian Aerospace Forces against the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Voyennaya Mysl is Russia’s most prestigious military journal and, as such, the views and arguments presented there reflect topics considered important to the development of the Russian Armed Forces.

The Application of the R-37M Missile

For the Russian Aerospace Forces, the primary motivation for employing long-range air-to-air missiles stems from the need to overcome Ukrainian advances in aerial warfare. According to Stepkin, the task of destroying Ukrainian air-based systems is shared by two types of units: Quick Reaction Alert (QRA) aircraft stationed at air bases and fighters conducting Combat Air Patrol (CAP). These fighters aim to launch their missiles from inside the borders of the Russian Federation, including occupied Ukrainian territories.

The principal advantage of long-range missile use, in Stepkin’s account, lies in the sudden and unexpected nature of the launches. In his article, Stepkin repeatedly emphasises the difficulty Russian fighter aviation faces in using concealment, owing to the perceived superior Western information and intelligence capabilities provided to Ukraine. Realising the advantage of sudden and unexpected missile launches in practice, however, has required a substantive evolution of tactics over the course of the war.

That evolution began with a pairing that did not last. Stepkin explains that in the opening phase of the conflict, the Russian Air Force relied on the MiG-31BM armed with the R-33 missile to deliver long-range air-to-air fires.

Improved Ukrainian tactics made the pairing obsolete, compelling Russian fighter aviation to adopt the newer R-37M missile carried by the Su-35S airframe. The newer combination is intended to operate within a layered kill chain.

The kill chain of the Russian Aerospace Forces is built around a two-layer approach. Fighters seek to launch their long-range air-to-air missiles before Ukrainian air targets enter the engagement zone of ground-based air-defence troops.

Translating that scheme into consistent operational results has been hampered by shortcomings on the Russian side. Stepkin attributes part of Ukraine’s tactical success to the overtly rigid manner in which Russia has employed its fighter aircraft. Examples include the routine and continuous use of the same airfields, flight routes and three-dimensional flight profiles, which are easy for Ukrainian mission planners to predict.

A second Russian constraint sits at the level of command and control. It is possible to read between the lines of the article that the current C2 system provided by the radiotechnical troops does not maximise the use of the R-37M, owing to the requirement to obtain authorisation for each missile launch. These self-imposed frictions, combined with a demanding external operating environment, are limiting the effectiveness of Russian air combat.

The principal tasks set for the Aerospace Forces’ fighter aviation in the war are the destruction of air targets and the provision of air cover for ground troops against air-launched munitions.

The completion of these tasks by the Russian Aerospace Forces is limited by four factors: large-scale Western military assistance to Ukraine; the effectiveness of Ukrainian ground-to-air defence systems of both Soviet and foreign origin; the reconnaissance capabilities Western countries provide to Ukraine; and the limitations of the Aerospace Forces’ own reconnaissance-information support. Of these four, the reconnaissance imbalance between Russia and Ukraine receives particular weight.

Stepkin notes that one of the most significant factors in air combat in Ukraine has been the intelligence support provided by Western countries to Ukraine. He suggests that Western intelligence and reconnaissance assets can reveal air-to-air missile launches by Russian fighters against Ukrainian air assets, and that the West is capable of supporting Ukrainian command and control by conveying significant information about the actions of Russian Aerospace Forces units.

Ukrainian air-defence tactics have shifted from stationary, location-bound air defence to ambush-type employment that exploits concealment and mobility. This has created problems for the Russian fighter employment.

The inferiority of Russia’s reconnaissance systems relative to Ukraine’s, Stepkin contends, does not allow the Russian Armed Forces to locate Ukrainian air-defence systems. This, in turn, reduces the employability of Russian Air Force’s fighter assets close to the front line. He adds that Ukraine’s current pattern of air-defence employment complicates the use of fighters, owing to the difficulty of estimating the ranges and capabilities of Ukrainian air-defence systems.

Ukrainian fighter aviation, meanwhile, has adapted directly against the long-range missile itself. The specific shortcoming Stepkin highlights is Ukraine’s ability to shift the counter-air engagement from forward to rear-hemisphere interception, which halves the effective range of the R-37M and lowers the probability of a kill.

Analytical Thoughts

For Western audiences, Stepkin’s account indicates that Ukraine has been successful in posing challenges to the Russian Aerospace Forces. Ukraine has been able to increase the capability of its Air Force and implement Western technology, techniques, tactics and procedures.

From a Russian perspective, Stepkin offers novel material on R-37M employment and tactical considerations. His account suggests that the Aerospace Forces have a willingness to evolve not only their technical applications, but also the wider tactics and procedures of air combat.

The primary argument that emerges from his account is that Russia conducts innovation reactively and under structural disadvantage. He depicts the Russian Aerospace Forces being consistently a step behind Ukraine that enjoys technological and informational superiority provided by its Western partners. The framing is broadly dialectical: the Russian side is constantly reacting to Ukrainian adaptations, which it follows and analyses closely.

Finally, Stepkin is unusually candid about the internal factors that constrain Russian combat capability. He sets out a list of shortcomings, together with the changes required in both operational conduct and technical application to overcome them. On his account, there is a doctrinal gap that prevents the R-37M’s full technical potential from being realised. ֍

Notes:

[1] Co-authors of this article include Colonel A. A. Gvozdenko and Yu. G. Kravchov.

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By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

Russia’s shipping in the Baltic Sea has been severely disrupted. In recent weeks, dozens of Russia-linked tankers were stranded in the narrow Gulf of Finland as a result of repeated Ukrainian strikes on the Russian oil terminals at Ust-Luga and Primorsk. The terminals are critical for Russia’s oil exports. Together they handle nearly half of Russia’s oil exports, including both crude and refined products.

Estonian Navy Commander Ivo Värk recently stated that Estonia will not apprehend vessels remaining in its Exclusive Economic Zone, because “the risk of military escalation is just too high.”

Members of the G7 and the European Union have imposed a wide array of sanctions on Russian energy exports as a result of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. European coastal states have boarded, detained, or seized Russian-linked vessels on varying legal grounds: suspected sailing under a false flag; inadequate seaworthiness in an ageing shadow fleet; missing or inadequate insurance and flag documentation; environmental protection concerns; and criminal investigations into sabotage or espionage, which have repeatedly led to the discovery of sanctions violations once inspectors are aboard.

Estonia’s restraint reflects rising tensions across the Baltic. Russia has responded to the sanctions enforcement pressure with increasingly overt military signalling. In May 2025, after the Estonian Navy attempted to intercept a sanctioned unflagged vessel that refused to stop and began trailing it, Russia deployed a Su-35 fighter jet to prevent the seizure, violating Estonian airspace in the process.

Over the past year Russia has built a comprehensive military posture to protect its shipping in the region and across its narrow maritime approaches. This posture combines naval escorts, the deployment of fighter aircraft, armed personnel aboard Russia-linked vessels, and a continuous information campaign in support of the measures. Ongoing legal changes are also creating additional pretexts for the use of military force. The hardening posture has raised the risks of intercepting Russia-linked ships.

Emerging Militarisation of Russian Merchant Shipping

Presidential aide and head of the Russian Maritime Collegium Nikolai Patrushev has been the most active Russian official speaking publicly on the protection of shipping, with regular statements from spring 2025 onwards. He has described the need to maintain naval presence on primary maritime trade routes, including in distant maritime zones, on a continuous basis.

Russia argues that any blockade attempt would be illegal under international law and dismisses the “shadow fleet” label as a “legal fiction”. On this basis, Patrushev has threatened that “a blockade would be broken and liquidated by the Russian Navy.”

On 26 May 2025 it was announced that the Russian Maritime Collegium had prepared measures to prevent restrictions on shipping in the Baltic, but the measures were not made public at the time. Almost a year later, on 25 March 2026, Patrushev publicly announced a list of measures to improve the protection of Russian shipping in key maritime routes:

• A standing procedure for “operational interaction” between shipping companies, port operators, and the Russian Navy, covering primarily the Baltic Sea and the Black Sea. This format establishes a direct connection between the commercial operators, Russian port administration, and the Russian Navy.

• The Navy is tasked with protecting designated vessels and assets and with maintaining continuous presence across defined maritime areas, while standing ready to respond to incidents. This protection applies to vessels carrying Russian cargo regardless of whether they sail under the Russian flag.

• A process for shipowners to request, through port captains, the placement of mobile fire teams aboard Russian flagged ships. Mobile fire teams (мобильные огневые группы) typically refer to air defence units with light weaponry. They would be intended to act as a deterrent against boardings by helicopters as well as an anti-drone capability.

Taken together, these measures indicate formal, standing procedures for the protection of shipping with military force. Earlier escort and protection activity was likely improvised; the new processes are embedded in the shipping bureaucracy, with port administrations acting as an important point of contact. The most consequential development is the possibility of placing anti-aircraft-capable teams on vessels sailing under the Russian flag. If implemented, this would shift the deterrence calculus for boarding Russian flagged commercial ships.

The Limits of Russian Naval Escorts

Russia’s capacity to escort merchant ships with Navy vessels is limited and geographically constrained. Retired Vice-Admiral Ulyan Bayzert, former deputy commander of the Russian Northern Fleet, argues in Kommersant that occasional escorts of Russian merchant vessels do not solve the problem. He claims that the Russian Navy is physically incapable of providing regular convoy protection. In the Baltic Sea, regular escorts would be possible only as far as the Danish Straits, after which vessels would be left without protection. A corvette can operate autonomously for only a month, and a small missile ship for only ten days. Russian escorts therefore cannot reliably or regularly operate in the Atlantic to protect shipping.

The less costly alternative has been to place armed personnel aboard Russian merchant ships. The Organised Crime and Corruption Reporting Project recently published information about Russian protection teams operating on tankers carrying Russian energy products. By examining crew manifests, the investigation found that such tankers often carry two additional Russian men aboard, many of whom have connections to Russian security services or private military companies. Armed uniformed personnel aboard Russia-linked vessels were first publicly confirmed by the Swedish Navy in December 2025.

A New Legal Pretext for the Protection of Shipping

Russia is adapting its legislation to permit the use of military force abroad to prevent the arrest, detention, and prosecution of Russian citizens. On 14 April, the Russian Duma passed at first reading a legislative amendment that authorises the Russian Armed Forces to operate abroad and use military force, on the decision of the President, to protect Russian citizens abroad. Although comparable provisions already exist in Russian legislation, the new amendment focuses on cases of arrest, detention, and criminal or other proceedings by foreign states.

The provided legal documentation gives no specific reasons for the changes, nor any examples of cases to which the legislation would apply. Russian legal expert Ilya Rachkov, interviewed by Kommersant, assessed that the legislation would apply to the protection of Russian commercial vessels and other transport assets placed on sanctions lists. He envisions a case in which foreign border guards board a vessel carrying Russian cargo and arrest its crew. In such a case, Rachkov said, the Russian Armed Forces could be deployed, provided that “they receive the relevant order from the President”.

On 22 April, the Russian Ministry of Transport announced that up to 1,000 vessels could be transferred to the Russian flag. The Ministry claims that the total tonnage sailing under the Russian flag has more than doubled to nearly 20 million tons over the past two years and may reach 30 million tons by the end of 2026. The vessels to be transferred are mainly large tankers, and the Ministry presents reflagging as a “safer” option, since the state gains a broader range of options to protect shipping under its jurisdiction. The Ministry framed the transfer as a response to the targeting of vessels that carry Russian cargo but do not fly the Russian flag.

The reflagging initiative and the new legal pretexts for the use of military force are likely connected elements of the militarisation of the Russian merchant fleet. The legislation provides legal grounds for the use of military force abroad to protect Russian citizens, including in cases of arrest made by foreign authorities boarding vessels that carry Russian cargo.

The flag transfer expands the number of vessels to be partly crewed by Russian citizens and operating under Russian jurisdiction, effectively broadening the category of cases in which the Russian authorities could use military force to protect shipping. Together, the legal changes and the flag transfer are likely intended to act as a deterrence mechanism against the seizure of ships, substituting for the Russian Navy’s insufficient capacity to escort vessels evading sanctions.

Concluding Thoughts

The Russian authorities appear to have concluded that the covert sanctions evasion regime no longer provides sufficient cover for Russian energy exports. There is an ongoing shift towards a more overt and militarised posture to protect ships evading EU and G7 sanctions. This presents a direct challenge to the enforcement of sanctions. Russia has engineered an escalation trap: the boarding of Russian ships may increasingly be met with armed resistance and a Russian naval response.

Over the coming six months, further transfers of tankers to the Russian flag and continued militarisation of the merchant fleet are likely. Armed personnel and mobile fire teams aboard Russian ships should be expected with growing frequency. Despite its limitations, Russia is likely to increase the number of naval escorts in the Baltic Sea, the North Sea, and the English Channel. The legislation on the protection of Russian citizens abroad has not yet completed its parliamentary passage; if it does pass, it will provide a wider legal pretext for the use of force and a basis for more threatening rhetoric from the Russian side.

The announced Russian measures should be read as stated intentions, but their implementation faces constraints. The expansion of Russian naval escorts and the maintenance of continuous readiness on the high seas demand substantial resources from the Russian Navy and its crews, which will likely be a central limiting factor.

Mobile fire teams aboard ships may offer protection against helicopter boardings and drones, but Russia’s air defences are already increasingly stretched, and arming the merchant fleet would compete with air defence requirements on Russian territory. In addition, even if the number of ships sailing under the Russian flag increases significantly, the number of Russian citizens among crew members is unlikely to rise given the limited supply of Russian seafarers.

We are likely to see a more militarised Russian merchant fleet with uneven implementation reflecting the resource constraints. Escalation risks in sanctions enforcement will rise as Russia's rhetoric hardens and military measures are implemented to defend its shipping. ֍

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By Andreas Turunen
Mellenion

If only tactical and operational factors are considered, simulation or scenario-based research into a war between NATO and Russia is relatively straightforward. In purely military terms, Russia does not possess the means to sustain such a conflict without risking defeat in a confrontation with a technologically and numerically superior NATO alliance.

Wars, however, are primarily fought at the strategic and political levels. They cannot be reduced to a contest of one weapon against another, because weapons are not used in a political vacuum, separate from the existing reality of relations between states.

Accordingly, the weapons used in armed conflict are always subordinate to political, legal, relational and escalation management concerns. Not very long ago, Ukraine faced constant restraint and limitations imposed by its partners. Those limitations concerned both certain types of weapons and whether they could be used against targets inside the borders of Russia.

In a hypothetical conflict between NATO and Russia, there is a considerable chance that participating Western countries would impose different restrictions and so-called sanctuary policies, limiting the use of certain weapon systems and strikes against certain targets inside Russia. These policies are important to address because their nature and effects can be assessed well before armed conflict begins.

The primary question, then, is this: how can NATO states impose the fewest possible restrictions on their military decision-makers so as to ensure the maximum operational and tactical effectiveness of their national militaries while limiting the risk of uncontrolled escalation?

Limitations on the Use of Military Capabilities

The role of escalation management in a conflict is to avoid a situation in which the war spins out of control on either side. This means that both sides impose limitations on themselves in how they fight and conduct combat operations.

In a war between NATO and Russia, the greatest limitations on NATO’s operational conduct would stem from internal structural issues, all linked to escalation management. Three are especially salient.

The first is depth limitations. In selecting targets inside Russia, political pressure could limit strikes to a certain depth. Airfields, logistic hubs, repair facilities and command centres beyond a certain distance from NATO borders might therefore be excluded.

The second is politically sensitive targets. Certain targets, such as components of the Russian nuclear triad, could be considered politically too sensitive and efforts to degrade them too escalatory. This could lead to certain elements of the Russian Long-Range Aviation, as well as specific basing areas of the Northern Fleet, being excluded from target lists.

The third is limitations on the use of weapons systems. There is a credible risk that supplying states would not permit certain weapon systems to be used to their full capacity because of escalation concerns.

These hypothetical examples show how strategic and political considerations can constrain operational and tactical dynamics, making the conduct of operations, planning and combat actions less effective.

The Rationale Behind Self-Imposed Restrictions

What might tempt Western political and strategic decision-makers to impose restrictions on their own military capabilities? The answer lies in Russia’s nuclear capabilities.

The rationale for imposing restrictions on certain combat capabilities stems from Russia’s ability to maintain credible nuclear deterrence against Western countries. During peacetime, Russia maintains a strategic deterrence system that it constantly updates and adjusts on the basis of its perceptions and internal calculations about how the global military-political situation is evolving. It also continuously evaluates Western military potential relative to its Armed Forces in a possible conflict situation.

In a war between NATO and Russia, one of the most important goals for Western decision-makers would be to keep the conflict managed and below the threshold for the use of nuclear weapons. The necessity of escalation management means that combat would have to be constrained geographically, economically and politically.

This would introduce several dilemmas for NATO because regional perspectives differ. Countries in Eastern Europe, such as Poland or the Baltic states, would view attempts at conflict resolution as possible appeasement of Russia, allowing Russia to advance its interests through the threat of nuclear use. If NATO members were to make compromises in response to nuclear threats, the alliance would be placed in an increasingly weak position, with Russia able to increase its demands each time those demands were met.

At the same time, it would be necessary for NATO as a whole to keep the conflict at a managed level and to prevent uncontrolled escalation into a large-scale nuclear war. That makes some form of arbitration and communication necessary, creating possible avenues for compromise and settlement.

Concluding Thoughts

Across different scenarios involving a hypothetical war between NATO and Russia, the primary problem is not Russia’s combat capability but the risk of imposing too far-reaching restrictions on the use of military force and thereby limiting warfighters’ ability to achieve combat success.

The key point is that even if NATO holds significant advantages in military capabilities, especially in the aerospace and maritime domains, the necessity of escalation management and self-imposed restrictions might prevent those capabilities from being used to their full extent. The correlation of forces could therefore be far more balanced between Russia and NATO than the mere number of available capabilities suggests.

What, then, could be a solution for maximising the effectiveness of NATO’s armed forces in a hypothetical conflict? A possible answer would be to increase tolerance for risk and challenge Russian nuclear threats, matching the level of Russian threats and refusing to give in to Russian demands. The calibration of NATO military operations to be effective while managing escalation, requires rigorous research on Russian policies related to strategic and nuclear deterrence. The balancing act requires deft strategic analysis and significant willpower from US and NATO decision-makers on military operations and nuclear deterrence policy. ֍

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Cold Response 26 and Russia’s response suggest a pattern of managed military competition in the High North rather than an escalation in the near future. The scale of the NATO exercise is significant, while Russia has limited capacity to respond in a comparable manner while the war in Ukraine continues. Russian military activities have been concentrated in the maritime domain.

NATO members have convened for their Arctic exercise, Cold Response 26, between March 9 and 20. One of the key objectives of the exercise is to train the transport of troops from Sweden to Finland in the context of NATO FLF (Forward Land Forces) in Finland. This is an integral part of NATO’s deterrence and defence in the High North. The exercise includes more than 30,000 personnel from 14 countries training on the territory of Finland and Norway.

Russian military activities during Cold Response 26 should be interpreted in the context of Russia’s strategic deterrence system, which is primarily intended to deter the use of military force against Russia. Its second purpose is to dissuade the military-political leadership of adversarial countries from taking steps considered detrimental to Russian interests. During Cold Response 26, Russia appears to have sought to demonstrate its ability to defend its interests in the Arctic. In official and media messaging, this is linked to claims that Russia’s position in the region is under pressure.

Russia’s Narrative on the Exercise

Russian narratives primarily concern the increasing militarisation of the Arctic and the efforts of the United States to secure a strategic advantage in the region. As usual, Russian officials and media present the exercise as preparation for a possible confrontation with Russia in the Arctic.

The principal point of contention in these statements reflects Russian threat perceptions concerning control of the Northern Sea Route. The United States disputes complete Russian control over the Northern Sea Route and regards the route as an international shipping route, whereas Russia considers it a national maritime corridor under Russian jurisdiction.

The Russian Foreign Ministry offered limited comment, stating that NATO has “been considering hypothetical scenarios for a conflict with [Russia] in the Arctic for a long time”. In doing so, the Russian MFA appeared to downplay the significance of the ongoing NATO exercise.

On Russia Today, the exercises are framed in connection with the United States’ intention to gain control over international logistical routes and chokepoints, emphasised particularly in relation to the Northern Sea Route.

The Russian state newspaper Gazeta.ru frames the exercises in the context of competition for the Arctic, claiming that the United States and European members of NATO are seeking to declare the Arctic a “common area”, thereby allowing freedom for international use, and are demanding the internationalisation of the Northern Sea Route, limiting Russia’s rights to control the maritime territories.

Russia’s Naval Response in the Barents and Norwegian Seas

Based on public information, Russian military activities and exercises during the Cold Response exercise have been limited and measured. Russia does not appear to be seeking an escalation of tensions. Instead, it is demonstrating a range of capabilities in the Barents Sea, and its resolve, in a calibrated manner. In the weeks before the exercise, Russia conducted several routine military activities.

On February 24–26, Russia announced a Notice to Airmen (NOTAM) linked to missile exercises in the Barents Sea, in international waters though partly inside the Norwegian Exclusive Economic Zone. Russia often issues such warnings without actual missile launches or live-firing exercises taking place, and in this case the missile launch was not confirmed.

On February 27, the Norwegian Air Force intercepted a routine patrol flight of Russian Tu-95 bombers and two Su-35 fighters over the Barents Sea in the Arctic Ocean. The Tu-95s are part of the Russian Long-Range Aviation, and these routine flights form part of the Russian strategic deterrence system, aimed at reminding NATO countries of Russia’s nuclear and force-projection capabilities.

Interestingly, the Su-35 fighters carried the colour scheme of the Russkie Vityazi, the Russian Air Force’s aerobatic demonstration team. These aircraft appear to have been repurposed for operational use.

On 10 March, at the beginning of the Cold Response 26 exercise, Russia announced another missile exercise and issued a NOTAM warning for the period from 11 to 13 March, indicating a missile launch in the Barents Sea near Norway.

This missile launch actually took place and was Russia’s most significant demonstration of capability during Cold Response 26. According to information published by the Russian Ministry of Defence, on 12 March the Yasen-class nuclear attack submarine “Kazan” of the Northern Fleet launched an Oniks anti-ship missile from a submerged position at a target 300 km away. During the exercise, this appeared to be the most concrete public demonstration of Russia’s maritime strike capability.

Other routine military activities included an Il-20M reconnaissance aircraft flying near and inside the announced Cold Response exercise area on several occasions on 10 and 11 March. In both cases, Norwegian fighter jets intercepted the Russian reconnaissance aircraft. On 11 March, the Il-20 flew for several hours over the Norwegian Sea inside the announced zone of the NATO exercise.

The Northern Fleet also conducted anti-submarine exercises in the Barents Sea. According to Interfax, Ka-27M helicopters practiced search and detection of submarines and simulated torpedo attacks against a notional enemy submarine, with one of the Northern Fleet’s nuclear submarines acting as the opposing force. Separately, another report stated that the frigate Admiral Golovko conducted anti-submarine drills using its sonar system and carried out a live torpedo launch against a submarine target.

Concluding thoughts

During the Cold Response exercise, Russia’s primary intention appears to have been to demonstrate a range of naval capabilities, including anti-ship missile launches, anti-submarine warfare capabilities and reconnaissance activity. Taken together, these measures were most likely intended to signal Russian readiness and resolve in Arctic conditions. In that sense, Moscow’s response was less about matching NATO exercise activity than about reminding observers that it retains credible military reach in the maritime domain of the High North.

At the same time, based on publicly available information, Russia appears to view the exercise as manageable rather than acutely threatening. Its activities and rhetoric can be characterised as limited and measured. The military actions were framed as routine exercises, and official communications did not strongly emphasise a direct connection to Cold Response or to an immediate NATO threat. Russia has chosen to signal presence and capability, but not to frame the Cold Response 26 exercise as an escalatory step.

The character of the response also suggests a degree of calibration. Russia’s response remained focused on a relatively narrow set of naval and air capabilities. If Moscow had regarded Cold Response as more threatening, it would likely have demonstrated a broader range of capabilities and adopted a more confrontational signaling posture. Instead, the response appears to have been designed to communicate readiness and resolve in a limited way.

This pattern also reflects the nature of the exercise itself. Cold Response is primarily land-oriented, whereas Russia currently has limited capacity to stage large-scale ground exercises on a comparable scale because of the manpower and material demands of the war in Ukraine. This might be why Russia has chosen to downplay the significance of the exercise. As long as the war in Ukraine continues, Russia’s capacity to organize large-scale exercises in the High North will likely remain limited.

By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

The Finnish government announced its intention to remove legal restrictions on the deployment of nuclear weapons on Finnish territory. This deployment could be implemented in specific defence-related scenarios. Although the timetable for the legislative changes is currently unknown, they would mark a significant shift in Finnish foreign and security policy. The changes are presented as necessary for Finland’s integration into NATO, enabling the country to participate fully in NATO nuclear deterrence policy.

This article explains the context and outlines the scenarios in which nuclear deployment on Finnish territory would be possible. It also examines the potential Russian responses to the upcoming legislative changes and deployment of nuclear weapons in Finland during a crisis.

Regardless of its heated rhetoric and protests, Russia’s influence on Finnish decision-making is limited. Russia could, however, make adjustments to its nuclear deterrence posture in peacetime and during a crisis in response to Finnish decisions related to nuclear weapons.

Finland and NATO’s nuclear deterrence

Finnish Defence Minister Antti Häkkänen has announced that Finland will make legislative changes to allow the deployment of nuclear weapons on Finnish territory. He noted that the existing restrictions are not aligned with Finland’s requirements as a NATO member. Under the proposed framework, the transport of nuclear weapons into Finland would be permitted in situations related to military defence.

President Alexander Stubb has supported the legislative changes and described NATO deterrence as resting on three pillars: “conventional forces, missiles and nuclear weapons”. In his view, it is in Finland’s interest that there are no legislative restrictions on any of them.

Finland is not seeking to permanently host nuclear weapons on its territory, nor will NATO peacetime nuclear exercises involve deploying nuclear weapons in Finland. The possibility of deploying nuclear weapons on Finnish territory is related to NATO nuclear deterrence and the flexible adjustment of the deterrence posture according to the perceived level of threat.

The decision to deploy nuclear weapons on Finnish territory could be taken in a situation involving the threat of military conflict between Russia and NATO in the Nordic-Baltic region or Eastern Europe. The temporary deployment of nuclear weapons in Finland, or their transport through Finnish airspace, would strengthen NATO’s nuclear deterrence posture to prevent Russia from attacking a NATO member state.

NATO’s non-strategic nuclear weapons

As the ultimate guarantee of security, NATO nuclear deterrence policy relies on the strategic nuclear forces of the United States, as well as the independent strategic nuclear capabilities of France and the United Kingdom. However, the Finnish policy change is not related to strategic nuclear weapons. Instead, they are most likely related to the non-strategic nuclear weapons that the United States has forward deployed in Europe and which are part of NATO’s nuclear deterrence posture.

About 100 non-strategic nuclear gravity bombs B61 (versions −3 and −4) are thought to be deployed at six bases in five European countries: Aviano and Ghedi in Italy; Büchel in Germany; Incirlik in Turkey; Kleine Brogel in Belgium; and Volkel in the Netherlands. These countries have permanent storage of U.S. nuclear weapons and they participate in U.S. nuclear sharing.

These NATO non-strategic nuclear weapons can be launched from U.S. or certain allied aircraft. Several NATO member states have dual-capable aircraft that can deliver the nuclear weapons to their targets if necessary. As described by NATO, the aircraft are available for “nuclear roles at various levels of readiness”.

Therefore, the most likely way for the deployment of nuclear weapons in Finland would involve non-strategic nuclear weapons carried by U.S. or allied aircraft in the context of heightened tensions and the need for enhanced nuclear deterrence and strategic signalling.

Russia’s reactions to the Finnish policy change

Russia has already reacted to the possible Finnish legislative changes with sharp statements. The Russian statements are likely to have limited influence on the decisions currently being made in Finland. The Russian statements are most likely aimed at influencing the Finnish military-political leadership, the government, and public opinion. They are also likely intended to create a sense of danger and uncertainty around Finnish decision-making.

The press secretary of the Russian president, Dmitri Peskov, has stated that the “Finnish announcement leads to escalation of tensions in Europe; and if such plans are implemented, Russia will take corresponding measures”. He also stated that the deployment of nuclear weapons in Finland would be interpreted as a “direct threat” to Russia.

In the Russian Duma, deputy Andrei Kolesnik has framed the possibility of the deployment or transit of nuclear weapons in Finland, closer to Russia’s border, as “an act of aggression against Moscow”. In another interview, Kolesnik stated that “Finland is increasing the level of tensions from their side. I think that our armed forces will look more carefully towards Finland, because it is already directly on our borders” and that “the Russian military capabilities directed at Finland will increase. We cannot tolerate nuclear weapons on our borders”.

Kolesnik’s strongly worded statements seem to indicate a desire to expand military capabilities near Finland further. However, Russia is already struggling to implement the current plans for military expansion. Adjustments can be expected in Russia’s nuclear deterrence posture if Finland implements the announced legislative changes and is integrated more closely into the NATO nuclear deterrence framework.

Russian adjustments to nuclear deterrence posture in peacetime

Russia has already strengthened its nuclear-capable systems in the vicinity of Finland. In 2024, Russia announced the creation of an Iskander-M short-range ballistic missile brigade in the newly established Leningrad Military District. The Iskander-M has a range of 500 km, can reach most of Finnish territory, and can be equipped with conventional or non-strategic nuclear warheads. This was described by the Russian military authorities as an “adequate response” to Finnish NATO membership. Regardless of the announcement, the actual status of the Iskander-M systems associated with the brigade is unknown.

Related to this development, it is possible that Russia could store non-strategic nuclear weapons in the Republic of Karelia in connection with the Iskander-M missile brigade, in order to enhance readiness to arm the dual-capable systems with non-strategic nuclear warheads. According to the Jamestown Foundation, storage facilities for tactical nuclear warheads have been constructed on the territory of Belarus in connection with the deployment of Iskander-M missile systems. Similar developments have been described in some other bases as well.

In addition, it is possible that Russia could increase the tempo of its nuclear-capable Long-Range Aviation flights in the vicinity of Finland and the Nordic countries. This would most likely take place along the Finnish border and over the Baltic Sea and the Arctic Ocean. In both the Baltic Sea and the Arctic Ocean, these flights are a routine occurrence, but the increased tempo might be a way for Russia to strengthen its nuclear deterrence posture.

Russian measures in peacetime are also likely to be conducted in the political and information spheres. It is plausible that Russia would communicate its protests to the Finnish leadership and state that any deployment of nuclear weapons on Finnish territory would constitute a legitimate target for Russian nuclear strikes in wartime. This is likely to remain a persistent theme in Russian communications. In addition, Russia is likely to frame the steps taken by the Finnish government as aggressive or as increasing the potential for military conflict.

Russian adjustments to nuclear deterrence posture in a crisis

In a period of heightened tensions, Russia could raise the readiness of its nuclear forces. These measures could be taken if military conflict between Russia and NATO was expected, if the forward deployment of nuclear weapons was anticipated, or if nuclear weapons had already been deployed on Finnish territory.

First, Russia could enhance its nuclear deterrence posture by placing non-strategic nuclear weapons in readiness on aerial and naval platforms during a period of crisis or as a corresponding measure to the forward deployment of NATO non-strategic nuclear weapons. This could increase Russia’s readiness to conduct non-strategic nuclear strikes on critical military targets and potential locations hosting nuclear weapons at the outbreak of hostilities, if Russian territory became a target of a widespread attack.

This measure would also create strategic ambiguity. It is a policy of the Russian Armed Forces, inherited from the Cold War era, that many conventional long-range strike capabilities are dual-capable and can be equipped with either a conventional warhead or a non-strategic nuclear warhead. It would be difficult for NATO countries to assess which platforms were carrying conventional warheads and which were armed with nuclear weapons. This policy could be implemented, for example, in the Russian Northern Fleet, the Baltic Fleet and the Aerospace Forces.

Second, Russia could demonstrate its readiness and capability by organising missile exercises using land-, air- and sea-based capabilities, with weapon systems that could be equipped with non-strategic nuclear warheads. These exercises would likely be broadcasted and distributed in the information sphere to influence decision-making in NATO countries.

Third, readiness and snap exercises could be organised by the Russian strategic nuclear forces, including command-and-control exercises and the dispersal of capabilities. In the Russian nuclear triad, Long-Range Aviation is the most visible and flexible tool for strategic and deterrence signalling, so these capabilities would likely be used in the directions perceived as threatening.

Fourth, Russia would likely engage in nuclear threats in the political and information spheres in order to influence Western military-political decision-making. This would likely be intended to signal that any sites associated with forward-deployed nuclear weapons would be treated as priority targets in the opening phase of a conflict. The messaging would likely include statements that forward nuclear deployments could become targets of nuclear attack.

Concluding thoughts

The Finnish government’s planned legislative changes would not mean the permanent stationing of nuclear weapons in Finland. Instead, they would remove a legal restriction and create the possibility for nuclear deployment in specific circumstances linked to NATO nuclear deterrence policy, most likely during a crisis or an extended period of heightened tensions.

For Russia, the most likely response would be a combination of rhetoric and nuclear deterrence adjustment rather than a single dramatic change or escalation. In peacetime, this could mean further expansion of nuclear-capable systems near Finland alongside political and information pressure. In a crisis, however, the changes could become more serious: Russia could raise the readiness of its dual-capable air, sea and land-based systems by arming them with non-strategic nuclear warheads, stage nuclear signalling exercises, and intensify threats aimed at influencing decision-making in Finland and across NATO.

Even if nuclear weapons are never stationed or deployed to Finland, the policy and legislative changes would integrate Finland more directly into the dynamics of NATO-Russia nuclear deterrence, which Finland needs to be capable of managing. ֍

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By Andreas Turunen
Mellenion

Introduction

Early observations from the war between the United States and Iran have again demonstrated the effectiveness of one-way attack unmanned aerial systems (OWA UAS). In this conflict, OWA UAS platforms have been employed against U.S. military installations located on the territory of their Middle Eastern allies. Iran’s use of OWA UAS, particularly its Shahed-drone, has been extensive, with the United Arab Emirates alone reportedly facing nearly 500–700 OWA strike drones directed at vital targets on its soil.

If this trend continues over the course of the war, the Western analytical community can say with increasing certainty that long-range strike drones will remain a consistent element of modern warfare.

In a previous article, I examined Russia’s limitations in achieving aerospace dominance in a hypothetical scenario in which Russia invades the Baltic States. In this piece, I turn to what may be the most obvious strength in Russia’s inventory: the use of long-range strike UAVs. These systems are costly to intercept, difficult to destroy on the ground, and capable of causing significant damage when they reach their targets. Their effectiveness is particularly consequential against vulnerable objectives such as critical civilian infrastructure.

The conduct of long-range drone warfare

In Ukraine, Russia has employed Geran-drones (the Russian version of the Iranian Shahed) on a large scale to degrade Ukraine’s military and civilian infrastructure. According to British military intelligence, Russia launched 55,000 OWA UAS during 2025. This represented a five-fold increase in the use of OWA UAS compared with the previous year, 2024.

The Western approach to conducting air and missile defence traditionally treats interception as a measure of last resort. Defensive systems are expected to engage incoming threats only if the adversary’s strike systems have not been destroyed on the ground prior to launch.

For Ukraine, achieving such ground kills against the Geran OWA UAS has proven difficult. This constraint stems largely from Ukraine’s inability to achieve aerospace supremacy and to develop an air-to-ground strike capability sufficient to degrade the launch platforms of long-range strike drones on the ground.

In the war in Ukraine, the proliferation of long-range strike drones became widespread largely because Russia was unable to achieve air supremacy. Therefore, Russia had to increase its long range drone strike capability. As a result of the extensive use of OWA UAS by Russia, Ukraine has developed one of the most sophisticated and layered approaches to countering the threat to its critical infrastructure. This approach also incorporates a range of improvised and adaptive methods, including the use of helicopters, fighter aircraft, electronic warfare, and interceptor drones.

Achieving a near-total interception rate against Russian long-range OWA UAS drones presents a considerable challenge for Western militaries for several reasons:

1. The very long operational range of the Geran-2 system, estimated at 1,800–2,500 kilometres, makes it difficult for Western air forces to destroy these systems on the ground on a sufficient scale.
   

2. The relatively small size, manoeuvrability, and rack-based launch platforms make the Geran system difficult for Western ISR units to locate.
   

3. Russia possesses considerable strategic depth, allowing it to conduct well-concealed launches and to disperse launchers effectively across its territory.

The difficulty of intercepting Shahed-Geran-type drones has reportedly also been acknowledged by officials in the US administration. According to CNN, US interception systems are not capable of intercepting all incoming drones because their flight characteristics make them more difficult to counter than ballistic missiles in certain circumstances.

Assessment

In Ukraine, Russia has degraded the country’s overall energy production through sustained and massed long-range strikes, the majority of which have been conducted using long-range OWA UAS drones.

In a war against Russia, European critical infrastructure and industrial facilities would be vulnerable to a sustained and massed long-range strike drone campaign. This vulnerability extends across the spectrum of critical infrastructure, meaning that most critical infrastructure could be targeted, unless located underground.

These include:

• Energy systems: generation (thermal and hydro), transmission and distribution infrastructure (substations, transformers, and lines), as well as gas and oil nodes.

• Water and municipal services: water supply systems, district heating networks, and other essential services tied to utilities.

• Transport, logistics, and connectivity: railways, ports and grain-export infrastructure, logistics hubs, telecommunications and digital networks.

The effects of targeting critical infrastructure are societal and, in wartime, are intended to erode the will of the population to resist. To mitigate this threat, European countries and businesses have the advantage of being able to observe and learn from Ukraine’s layered counter-drone defence.

For Russia, long-range strike drones have become an essential component of modern warfare. Russian strategy seeks to degrade Ukraine’s military and economic potential through widespread attacks against critical infrastructure and military targets. This approach is intended to force Ukraine’s capitulation and subjugation to Russian political objectives. In any future conflict involving another European state, it is reasonable to expect that this approach will be repeated and further developed. The threat should therefore be regarded as persistent. ֍

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By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

Russia’s Minister of Defence outlined a framework for developing the country’s future military capabilities on 17 December 2025. In his address, Belousov presented the main directions of the State Armament Programme (Государственная программа вооружения) for 2027–2036. The programme defines Russia’s military procurement priorities for the next decade, based on assessments of future armed conflicts and military threats.

The speech also signalled a shift in procurement philosophy. According to Belousov:

“The State Armament Programme must be formed on the basis of requirements for the prospective combat capabilities of the Armed Forces, rather than on the number of items of weapons and equipment.”

Belousov frames the Russian Ministry of Defence’s priority for the coming years as modernising the Armed Forces and raising their technological level. To achieve this, the State Armament Programme will prioritise modern, high-technology systems related to strategic nuclear forces, air and missile defence, and space-based capabilities. Electronic warfare, command-and-control, and unmanned systems are also included in the priority list. He states that nearly half of the State Armament Programme’s funding will be allocated to these high-priority categories.

This article continues my analysis of Belousov’s address from 17 December 2025. The first part examined what the remarks suggested about Russia’s priorities in the war in Ukraine; you can read it here.

A capability-based procurement philosophy

The change in procurement priorities, from quantitative goals to capability-based procurement, is the most important shift indicated in the speech.

Belousov illustrates this approach with three examples of priority capability requirements meant to guide the development of the Russian Armed Forces:

• For the Strategic Nuclear Forces, the priority is the ability to overcome the missile defence system of a potential adversary.

• For air defence, the priority capability is repelling aerial attacks.

• For space assets, the priority is ensuring detailed intelligence, high-speed communications, and providing navigation data for the use of high-precision munitions.

Publicly identified by Belousov as priorities, these capabilities are likely to shape the strategic focus and military procurement of the Russian Armed Forces over the coming decade.

Overcoming the missile defence system of a potential adversary

The requirement for the Strategic Nuclear Forces to overcome a potential adversary’s missile defence system is directly connected to Russia’s system of strategic deterrence. A central concept in Russian deterrence doctrine is the ability to inflict “unacceptable damage” (неприемлемый ущерб) on an opponent in a large-scale war.

Russia’s nuclear modernisation efforts are shaped in part by long-standing concerns that U.S. ballistic missile defence could erode the credibility of its retaliatory capability. Preserving an assured and credible nuclear second-strike capability therefore remains a central priority for the Russian Armed Forces, with the United States as the primary strategic adversary.

Russia is likely to invest in sustained efforts to bypass missile defences. Previously, Russia’s nuclear modernisation programme has included continued development and upgrading of intercontinental ballistic missiles of the Yars family, as well as the development of hypersonic glide vehicles such as the “Avangard” system, which has greater manoeuvrability in flight. It has also included Burevestnik, a nuclear-powered, nuclear-armed land-attack cruise missile with intercontinental range, whose actual capabilities and viability remain in question.

In the naval domain, Russia is developing Poseidon, a nuclear-powered, nuclear-armed autonomous underwater system intended to threaten coastal targets while bypassing existing missile-defence systems. However, it is unlikely Poseidon is currently operational.

This dynamic is also linked to ongoing efforts in the United States to develop next-generation layered missile-defence architectures, referred to as the Golden Dome by the US administration. Although this capability remains largely conceptual, such systems are intended to intercept ballistic, hypersonic, and cruise missiles in flight and may influence the strategic balance over the next decade.

From Moscow’s perspective, expanding missile defence architectures could increase pressure to preserve penetration capability, potentially including means to disrupt space-based sensors through electronic warfare, cyber means, or other counter-space capabilities. This might influence the systems developed and procured under the State Armament Programme.

The air defence as a central priority

Air and missile defence are prioritised within the procurement programme. The war in Ukraine has demonstrated a sharp increase in the scale and frequency of aerial attacks, particularly through the widespread use of unmanned aerial vehicles of varying ranges and payloads alongside cruise missiles. Russian planners are likely to expect this trend to persist and expand in future conflicts, reinforcing the emphasis on strengthening air-defence capabilities in the State Armament Programme.

Roughly 80 percent of NATO firepower is air delivered, which helps explain why air-defence systems remain a critical priority for Russia in any potential conflict with NATO. The experiences from the war in Ukraine, together with assessments of NATO air-strike capabilities, are likely to be defining factors in prioritising air defence in military procurement.

The emphasis on air defence is likely to be reflected in the development of the Ground Forces, whose air-defence units are designed to protect manoeuvring formations. Another critical capability is strategic air defence, operated by the Russian Aerospace Forces, which is designed to provide wide-area coverage and protect strategically important military installations and critical infrastructure.

When outlining priorities in strategic air defence, Belousov described in his speech the creation of a PVO-PRO division within the Russian Aerospace Forces, integrating air- and missile-defence capabilities within a single formation. He stated that the first regiment has entered operational duty. Its principal system is the S-500 SAM system, which reportedly can engage targets in near space.

The objective of “forming a universal air-defence system” (формирование универсальной системы противовоздушной обороны) has been linked to the forthcoming State Armament Programme. This formulation did not appear in Belousov’s Collegium speech but was attributed to President Vladimir Putin in remarks reported from a separate meeting related to defence procurement. Information about the “universal” air-defence system remains limited, but the phrasing is worth examination.

The term formation (формирование) used in this context likely refers to organising or integrating existing capabilities and systems. The phrase therefore appears to indicate an objective of integrating and harmonising air- and missile-defence assets into a more unified air-defence network.

This approach would be consistent with broader trends in Russian military thought, including efforts to build integrated command-and-control architectures under the concept of a “Unified Information Space” (Единое информационное пространство), aimed at linking sensors, targeting data, and automated decision-support systems across the Russian Armed Forces.

Expansion of space-based capabilities

Belousov identifies space assets as a priority capability requirement for the State Armament Programme. They are intended to provide detailed intelligence, high-speed communications, and navigation data to enable long-range precision strikes. Within the outlined capability-based planning framework, these capabilities are seen as critical enablers for the Russian Armed Forces, supporting long-range strikes that are increasingly central in Russian military thinking for generating strategic effects.

One of the key surprises for Russian military planners in the war in Ukraine has been the information and intelligence advantage Ukraine has been able to achieve with the help of Western countries. The space-based intelligence and communications capabilities that the United States and European countries have provided to Ukraine have been employed effectively for high-precision strikes against Russian forces and assets in occupied territory, in the Black Sea, and deep inside Russian territory. Russian planners are likely to view NATO’s advantages in this sphere as a priority gap to narrow through the development and procurement of new space-based assets.

Expanding space-based capabilities would also support the integration of air and missile defence and strategic deterrence. Russia appears to be pursuing a more resilient space architecture capable of sustaining communications, navigation, and sensors in a contested environment. From the perspective of the Russian Ministry of Defence, this is likely a critical component of Russia’s ability to remain competitive in high-technology conflicts over the next decade and beyond.

Conclusion

The priorities Belousov outlined point to a State Armament Programme centered on strategic capabilities rather than numerical objectives. The implied reference case for deterrence and warfighting remains a large-scale war against the US and NATO, and the capability requirements he chose to highlight are consistent with this scenario.

From Moscow’s perspective, credible deterrence and warfighting in such a conflict depend on maintaining the effectiveness of the Strategic Nuclear Forces, building a more integrated air and missile defence architecture, and enabling long-range precision strike through space-based intelligence, communications, and navigation support. These themes suggest that the upcoming State Armament Programme is designed to strengthen Russia’s ability to operate in a contested aerospace environment and generate strategic effects at long-ranges.

At the same time, an emphasis on high-technology and innovation at the rhetorical level does not rule out Ground Forces rearmament. Russia is likely to continue procuring and modernising ground-force equipment, including armoured platforms, as it rebuilds and reorganises formations after the war in Ukraine. The establishment of Leningrad and Moscow Military Districts, and the expansion of their units into divisional structures, creates demands that the procurement programme will have to address.

However, the Ground Forces and the whole Armed Forces effectiveness in modern warfare increasingly depends on enabling capabilities: electronic warfare, layered air defences, resilient communications, and space-based reconnaissance and targeting. In addition, equipping and scaling the Unmanned Systems Troops should be expected as a priority.

Whether the State Armament Programme translates into real capabilities will likely depend on the trajectory and outcome of the war in Ukraine, as well as Russia’s economic capacity, defence-industry labour constraints, the depth of its technological manufacturing base, and the effects of sanctions and supply-chain restrictions.

The State Armament Programme is still in its formative phase, but the main directions are already visible in strategic signalling: capability-based planning, prioritisation of strategic systems, and a push toward integrated aerospace defence and space-assets enabling long-range precision strike. They are indicators of how Russia intends to fight and conduct deterrence in the 2030s, and they warrant sustained attention as the programme moves from intent to implementation. ֍

The full transcript and video of the speech are available in Russian, published by the Kremlin: http://kremlin.ru/events/president/news/78801.

By Andreas Turunen
Mellenion

The conduct of air war by the Russian Aerospace Forces in Ukraine has been often interpreted by Western experts as an operational failure. The central argument is that Russia has been unable to acquire air supremacy over Ukraine, having failed to destroy Ukraine’s air force and air defences. Since air power is widely regarded as the entry ticket to modern warfare, this assessment has become critical to Western audiences evaluating the current and future threat posed by the Russian Aerospace Forces against Western militaries.

Yet no shared view has emerged within Western analytical communities regarding the precise shortcomings of the Russian Aerospace Forces in Ukraine. This debate is directly relevant to frequently discussed scenarios in which the Russian Armed Forces invade the Baltic States. According to some recent assessments, Russia could conduct a sudden invasion and secure control over Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. After the initial operation, it could threaten NATO with nuclear weapons and pressure political leadership not to invoke Article 5 and to initiate a common response.

In reality, Russia would not enjoy a significant advantage in challenging NATO through an invasion of the Baltic States. The primary risk for Moscow lies in the relative weakness of the Russian Aerospace Forces when measured against stronger, modern and joint-capable NATO air forces. In a real combat situation, Russia would risk losing air supremacy from the earliest stages of conflict and would eventually be unable to protect its ground forces from Western air power.

Russia’s Approach to Air Warfare in the Baltic States

It is often argued that the poor performance of the Russian Aerospace Forces in the initial stages of the war in Ukraine resulted from flawed or insufficient intelligence provided by Russian intelligence and security services. A second explanation suggests that the Russian Aerospace Forces Staff was incapable of proper planning, leading to the inability of Operational-Tactical Aviation to degrade Ukraine’s air defences effectively.

However, Russian military thinkers had already recognised before the war that the Russian Aerospace Forces were incapable of conducting a large-scale air and air defence operation in a regional war. Russian air and air defence doctrinal thinking differs markedly from the Western perspective, being rooted in the support of ground warfare in an operational direction. It is therefore possible that the Russian Aerospace Forces did not pursue an air operation aligned with Western standards, because such standards do not exist in Russian doctrine.

One key characteristic of the war in Ukraine, as described by Russian military thinkers, has been the supremacy of air defences over aircraft. Since the start of the war, the Russian Aerospace Forces have adapted by prioritising the protection of airframes and avoiding entry into Ukraine’s air defence zones, primarily provided by Western partners.

These conclusions carry two consequences:

First, the future role of Operational-Tactical Aviation may be reduced to serving as a launch platform for long-range precision munitions and missiles from within Russia’s own air defence coverage.

Second, in the reconstruction of the Russian Armed Forces after the War in Ukraine, strengthening strategic air defence may be prioritised over investment in aerial platforms.

A hypothetical future war between NATO and the Russian Armed Forces beginning in the Baltic region would not resemble the war in Ukraine. Based on lessons learned, a revised Russian air and air defence approach to support an invasion of the Baltic States would likely include several characteristics.

A strategic air defence-centric approach would see Russia concentrate long-range strategic air defence assets close to the Baltic States and extend the maximum range of systems to cover Baltic airspace.

Operational-Tactical Aviation would play a limited role, avoiding NATO air defence engagement zones and remaining within Russian strategic air defence coverage while launching long-range air-to-air and air-to-ground munitions from distance.

Russia would also increase emphasis on reconnaissance-strike capabilities and unmanned systems, conducting joint strikes from air, ground and sea-based assets alongside long-range drones of the Unmanned Systems Troops. The primary targets would be air bases, logistical hubs and command centres of NATO member states in the Baltic Sea region.

Factors Affecting the Outcome of a Potential Invasion

The first limitation Russia would face is numerical. Some estimates suggest that approximately 250–300 Operational-Tactical Aviation aircraft are currently allocated to the War in Ukraine. Any hostile action against NATO would require significantly more combat-capable aircraft, not only to contest airspace over the Baltic States but also to deter and repel strikes against the Kola peninsula, the Saint Petersburg area, Kaliningrad, Moscow and Belarus. By comparison, the Nordic states alone, all members of NATO, possess more than 200 modern combat aircraft.

The second obstacle concerns qualitative advantage. NATO countries in the Baltic Sea region operate well-integrated air and air defence systems with established joint operability between platforms and nations. The Agile Combat Employment (ACE) concept enables rapid and flexible projection of allied air power.

Western air forces field a considerable number of technologically advanced aircraft, including fourth- and fifth-generation fighters with the latest life-cycle upgrades and stealth-capable platforms. To challenge this, Russia would require not merely greater numbers but specifically its most capable fighter aviation aircraft, including Su-35S (FLANKER-M), Su-30SM2 (FLANKER-H) and Su-57 (FELON). Outdated systems would have negligible impact against modern NATO aircraft due to inferior radars and air-to-air missiles.

The same dynamic applies to strategic air defence. In Western defence discourse, the concept of layered air defence under the designation A2/AD (Anti-Access/Area-Denial) is often depicted through maximum-range engagement zones spanning the Baltic States, implying that Russia could deny NATO air operations in the region.

In practice, strategic air defence systems cannot maintain impenetrable denial zones indefinitely without risking suppression and destruction by Western long-range high-precision munitions. All air defence systems are inherently vulnerable to long-range precision strike; they do not require direct overflight to be neutralised.

To preserve high-value systems such as the S-400, Russia would need to position them beyond the range of Western ground-based launch systems, including ATACMS and MLRS. This would reduce their effective coverage significantly, limiting their capacity to threaten NATO air forces over Baltic airspace.

In addition, US air strikes against Iran’s nuclear programme provided evidence of the capability of stealth-capable fighters to conduct suppression of enemy air defence (SEAD) and operate within monitored airspace.

A significant threat to Western air forces would nonetheless arise from Russian long-range strike capabilities, including ground-based missile systems and the Unmanned Systems Troops. Since the beginning of the War in Ukraine, Russia has refined its conduct of strikes by combining missile and drone attacks in coordinated efforts.

Western air forces, however, possess countermeasures. Strategic depth and dispersed runways enable flexible deployment. Air-to-air refuelling mitigates range and payload constraints, enabling strikes from longer distances. Airborne interception can neutralise missiles and drones in flight, while Western air-to-ground capabilities allow strikes against launch positions before munitions are fired.

Information and intelligence superiority, as acknowledged by both Western and Russian analysts, would further complicate Russian preparations. Concentrating sufficient ground, air and sea-based assets without detection would be difficult under sustained monitoring of Russian military activity.

During the preparatory stages of the war in Ukraine, the United States provided detailed public information concerning Russian intentions. A similar pattern would likely emerge if Russia began deploying forces near the Baltic States. This would afford Western air forces time to reinforce the region, deter aggression and contest air supremacy from the outset.

Another limiting factor for Russia is Western standoff air-to-ground strike capability, which differs markedly from Ukraine’s. Russian military experts recognise that Western air forces possess a wide range of precision-guided munitions capable of targeting the ground infrastructure of the Russian Aerospace Forces.

In practical terms, Russia would need to calculate carefully from what distance Operational-Tactical Aviation could operate without risking catastrophic losses in the early stages of conflict. Increased distance from the frontline would reduce available time on station and payload for missions such as sustained air patrols with full missile loads.

Outcome and Conclusion

Russia would face a significant risk of military defeat in any invasion scenario against the Baltic States due to the disparity in air power between NATO and the Russian Aerospace Forces. A rapid advance supported by long-range strikes and drones would likely encounter well-prepared and superior Western air forces capable of achieving air supremacy and degrading Russian combat potential both at the frontline and in the rear.

Misunderstandings about the limitations of Western air power partly reflect experiences from Afghanistan and Iraq, where extensive air-to-ground strikes against low-priority targets revealed limitations in asymmetric warfare contexts. Modern Western air power, however, is designed for confrontation with conventional armed forces, targeting weapon platforms, organisations, command and control systems and combat support elements.

The NATO and Russian views on the conventional balance of power in the aerospace domain are largely aligned. Both consider the aerospace domain decisive in contemporary and future warfare and understand that NATO holds superiority in this domain. The divergence lies primarily in political and public discourse in the West, where perceptions of vulnerability in conventional warfare against Russia are persistent. ֍

By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

The Russian Minister of Defence, Andrey Belousov, argues that combat operations in Ukraine have undergone a significant shift.

He emphasises four trends: (1) drones and FPV drones as the primary tactical strike systems; (2) Ukraine’s “drone wall,” which is pushing Russian forces to rely more on mobility and electronic warfare (EW) during offensive actions; (3) greater emphasis on shared situational awareness at tactical and operational levels; and (4) an increase in the tempo and scale of Ukrainian deep strikes into Russia.

This analysis is based on the speech by Belousov from December 17, 2025, when Russia’s military and political leadership convened in Moscow for the Expanded Meeting of the Ministry of Defence (MoD) Collegium. In this speech, Belousov outlined the primary trends in the war and priorities for 2026. The speech appears to have received limited attention in Western coverage and analytical communities.

Increasing reliance on drones in combat

A key takeaway from the speech concerns the large-scale use of drones and their decisive role in combat.

The official position in the leadership of the Russian MoD increasingly reflects the central role of drones in modern warfare. Belousov argues that drones have assumed the role of the primary strike element in the war in Ukraine, rather than a supporting element. Their use in reconnaissance and strike missions is described as having grown significantly. He also stresses the role of drones in reconnaissance, counter-battery fire, and targeting deliveries of ammunition and supplies to the front.

Based on the elements highlighted by the leadership of the Russian MoD, a central challenge is creating drones capable of reconnaissance and strike actions in a tightly contested environment in which EW, counter-drone, and air defence capabilities are present at scale.

Belousov presents this shift as being institutionalised, framing the creation of the Unmanned Systems Troops as a core development in this sphere. A goal for 2026 at the Russian MoD and Armed Forces is the integration of Unmanned Systems Troops into the organisational structures of the wider Armed Forces.

The creation of the Unmanned Systems Troops at the end of 2025 indicates that the current reliance on drones is not a temporary battlefield adaptation driven by operational pressures, but an integral part of longer-term efforts to develop Russian force structure and capabilities.

Russian offensives rely on mobility and electronic warfare

Russian MoD leadership describes Ukrainian forces as aiming to slow Russian advances and inflict casualties on assaulting units by establishing what is described as a “line of drones”: a zone approximately 10–15 kilometres deep.

Because Belousov makes this a core element of his description of the war, I read the emergence of a Ukrainian drone-dominated ‘kill zone’ as contributing to a shift in Russian military thinking. A deep, adaptive drone wall reduces opportunities for rapid manoeuvre and the exploitation of breakthroughs. The zone of constant surveillance and routine reconnaissance-strike drone activity complicates attempts at combined arms manoeuvre and limits the Russian use of armoured platforms, including tanks and IFVs.

As described by Belousov, the primary Russian response has been an emphasis on mobility and EW protection for front-line units. One attempted solution has been to increase mobility through the widespread distribution of motorcycles and other light vehicles. Protection of assault troops has increasingly centred on EW. The mass deployment of localised EW systems indicates that electronic protection against drones is increasingly treated as a baseline requirement for survival, rather than a specialised capability.

Systems such as Obereg («Оберег»), Peroed («Пероед»), Silok («Силок») and Sosedka («Соседка») are designed to jam or suppress drones’ communications and control links at the tactical level. The official numbers provided by Belousov claim that more than 130,000 counter-drone EW systems were delivered to the forward areas in 2025. Further increases in EW density are identified as a priority task for 2026.

Integration of command and control

Another change in Russian combat operations is described as an increased emphasis on informational awareness at the tactical and operational levels. This is related to the framing of command and control integration as a core combat capability.

The stated objective is the creation of a unified and secure command-and-control environment covering force structures from the platoon to the brigade and division (соединение) level, enabling troops to access various digital services. The services mentioned include a shared tactical and aerial situation, satellite imagery, meteorological data, and geospatial information.

The system behind this integration is titled Svod («Свод»), a networked command-and-control system designed to enable shared situational awareness across formations. According to Belousov, the system has completed testing within the Grouping of Forces “Centre” (группировка войск «Центр»). The stated objective is to deploy it across all groupings of forces engaged in the war by September 2026.

Despite Belousov’s ambitious goals, the aspirations related to command and control integration are unlikely to be achieved in the short term. Such reforms are difficult to implement even under peacetime conditions, and far more challenging during continuous attritional warfare across a frontline extending for over a thousand kilometres.

The changes to command and control systems are therefore likely to be incremental. Even so, these efforts point to an identified deficiency within the Russian military system, as well as an articulated vision for addressing it.

Ukraine has achieved success in deep strikes into Russia

Belousov considers the expansion of Ukrainian strikes deep into Russia, in both intensity and scale, to be the fourth primary development of the war. According to the numbers provided, from the beginning of 2025 Ukrainians managed to conduct 1,500 long-range UAV strikes per month, increasing to 3,700 per month from May 2025 onwards.

Based on the speech, I would argue that protection from drones through increasing the density of EW and air defence systems in Russian formations is likely to be a key priority for Russian procurement in 2026. Belousov sets a goal of strengthening the forward zone and rear areas with air and missile defence capabilities to intercept long-range drones and cruise missiles.

The priority air defence systems are Pantsir («Панцирь») combat vehicles and other short- and medium-range SAM (surface-to-air missile) systems. Mobile fire teams are highlighted and their primary counter-UAV weapon systems are described as MANPADS Verba («Верба») and air-defence complexes Zubr and Citadel («Зубр» and «Цитадель»). In addition, the Russians are deploying interceptor FPV drones, aiming to increase their use in the first half of 2026.

Conclusions

As the war enters its fifth year on February 24, the speech of the Russian Minister of Defence is significant in its contents. Drones have become the primary strike component, and the struggle for drone supremacy is a vital element in how the leadership of the Russian MoD views the ongoing war. This battle is waged through the constant development of new types of drones, counter-drone technologies, electronic warfare capabilities, and increasingly dense air defence networks. These capabilities are increasingly presented as prerequisites for survival on the battlefield.

Compared with the sustained attention given to unmanned systems, electronic warfare, air defence, and secure networked command-and-control, the speech gives relatively less emphasis to armoured manoeuvre and mechanised warfare as priorities in adaptation or procurement.

The speech by the Russian Minister of Defence serves a specific institutional function. It is intended to define priorities, issue guidance, and articulate the official position of the Russian military-political leadership, as well as to foreign audiences. The content can therefore be interpreted as institutional signalling, highlighting the doctrinal and procurement priorities of the Russian MoD.

The change in the nature of Russian thinking about the war is likely persistent rather than temporary. The lessons from the war in Ukraine are being institutionalised in new force structures, such as the Unmanned Systems Troops, and disseminated inside the Russian Armed Forces. The learning is likely to continue after the end of the war in Ukraine. The lessons from the war can be expected to have an impact on the State Armament Programme and the development of force structures inside the Russian Armed Forces. ֍

The full transcript and video of the speech is available in Russian, published by the Kremlin: http://kremlin.ru/events/president/news/78801.

The figures cited are reported as Russian MoD claims and should be treated as unverified.

By Juuso Eskonmaa
Mellenion

The war in Ukraine has drawn attention to the performance of Russian naval forces, particularly in the Black Sea. Less visible, but strategically more consequential, has been the reorganisation of the Russian Navy’s command structure. Russian military authorities assessed that the Joint Strategic Command (JSC) system and the regional subordination of fleets to military districts created an ineffective system for the employment of naval forces under wartime conditions. This appears to have prompted the need for organisational reform.

The changes are the most far-reaching in the Northern Fleet. Stripped of Joint Strategic Command (JSC) and military district status as well as territorial administrative responsibilities, the restructuring is intended to focus the Northern Fleet on its core missions in the Arctic Ocean. Although sometimes mischaracterised as a downgrade, the reform reflects an institutional effort to remove secondary administrative burdens and concentrate naval forces on warfighting and deterrence in the High North.

The Joint Strategic Commands

Russia reformed the organisation of its armed forces in 2010 by establishing four Joint Strategic Commands (JSCs) on the foundation of the existing military districts. The intent was to create standing, permanent joint commands capable of independently assessing the threat environment, mobilising forces, and conducting combat operations. Each command was designed to exercise unified command over all troops and formations within its area of responsibility in both peacetime and wartime.

In practice, this subordinated Ground Forces, Air Force, and Navy assets to regional JSC headquarters, embedding air and naval forces within predominantly land-centric command structures.

The JSC Northern Fleet, established in 2014, represented a departure from this model. It was the only JSC built around a fleet rather than a land-focused military district. It initially lacked formal military district status and territorial administrative responsibilities compared to the other JSCs. From the outset, the JSC Northern Fleet was treated as an experimental formation intended to assess whether a fleet-based JSC could effectively defend Russia’s Arctic region.

Its creation reflected the growing strategic importance of the Arctic and an attempt to impose centralised command of military capabilities in a region that did not fit neatly within the traditional military district framework.

The experimental command structure was most likely judged successful, since further changes were made by a presidential decree in 2020 that designated the Northern Fleet as a “joint strategic territorial formation of the Russian Armed Forces fulfilling the tasks of a military district”, effective from 1 January 2021.

A separate decree defined the command’s territorial administrative boundaries as Murmansk and Arkhangelsk Oblasts, the Republic of Komi, and the Nenets Autonomous Okrug.

With this step, the Northern Fleet increased in status and was formally integrated into Russia’s military-administrative framework as a fifth military district with defined territorial responsibilities.

The Centralisation of the Fleets Under the Navy Command

During the war in Ukraine, Russian military authorities judged the existing command structure to be ineffective and in need of a correction. Russia’s military-administrative boundaries were redefined with a presidential decree in February 2024, dissolving the Western Military District and establishing the Leningrad and Moscow Military Districts in its place.

As part of the broader reforms in 2024-2025, the military districts lost their joint status, and the JSCs were converted into the military district headquarters, reflecting the removal of Russian Navy and Aerospace Forces formations from the military district structures. These air and naval forces were subordinated to Commanders-in-Chief of the respective service branches.

The Northern Fleet itself was stripped of both military district and JSC status. Instead, the Northern Fleet was designated as an operational-strategic formation and placed under the command of the Russian Navy, in a similar way to the other fleets. As part of the reform, the territories previously under the military administration of the JSC Northern Fleet were transferred to the recently established Leningrad Military District.

According to the then Russian Minister of Defence Sergei Shoigu, direct subordination of the fleets to the Russian Navy would allow the service branch to “effectively manage the Navy and the fleets” and introduce “unified approaches to operational planning and training under modern conditions”.

An unnamed military official similarly stated that the reform was intended to remove fleets and flotillas from their previous dual subordination to the JSCs and the Russian Navy. The same reporting noted intentions to establish a Navy Staff management group in Moscow to exercise direct operational control, citing the ineffectiveness of the former command system as the primary driver for change.

Strategic and Operational Consequences of the Reforms

The Russian Navy has been forced to adapt to modern naval warfare against Ukraine, which has demonstrated an ability to conduct long-range drone and missile strikes, employ intelligence and reconnaissance assets effectively, and generate continuous tactical and operational surprises.

The lessons drawn from these losses have been costly, but they are now expected to form a central reference point for how Russia intends to develop its naval forces. I would argue that the centralisation of the fleets under the Navy Command is intended to enable these lessons to be processed at the institutional level and implemented in a unified manner across the fleets of the Russian Navy.

A further driver of the reform is likely the need to employ the Russian Navy in a more concentrated and flexible way. Unified operational planning and centralised command, as described by the Russian authorities, could enable the transfer and employment of naval assets between different theatres more effectively. This is likely intended to allow a more flexible transfer, concentration, and employment of the Russian naval assets for operations between different maritime and oceanic regions.

This logic primarily concerns the Pacific Fleet and the Northern Fleet, which are better able to transfer assets between theatres through the Northern Sea Route. By contrast, the Black Sea and Baltic Fleets are geographically constrained by the Turkish and Danish straits, limiting their ability to flexibly reinforce other fleets.

In addition, the JSC structure likely created cultural frictions and inefficient force employment by combining assets from different service branches under predominantly land-oriented regional commands. In practice, fleets received tasks and guidance from both the regional JSC headquarters and the Navy Staff, creating friction and ambiguity in command relationships. Meanwhile, the JSC Northern Fleet was likely not the most effective command structure to manage its subordinated land components.

Compared to the previous system of dual subordination between the JSCs and the Navy, the reforms are intended to streamline and improve command and control of Russia’s fleets. Centralisation might allow the Russian naval forces to operate in a concentrated manner according to national-level perceptions of interests and threats rather than being influenced by regional priorities of the military districts.

Although the Northern Fleet has been downgraded from a military district and a JSC to an operational-strategic formation under the Russian Navy, these changes should not be interpreted as a decline in importance of the fleet. Instead, the changes are intended to improve efficiency and unity of command, and allow a focus on the Northern Fleet’s core missions: Arctic defence, protection of Russia’s maritime interests, and supporting the strategic deterrence mission of the Russian Armed Forces. ֍