Tension between Russia and the West is hardly novel—consider the Crimean War of the mid-nineteenth century. Britain and France, in an alliance with the Ottoman Empire, declared war on Russia on the 28th of March 1854. The purpose of this expeditionary war was, as Home Secretary Viscount Palmerston put it, to “curb the aggressive ambition of Russia.”[4] The great trading powers have always sought to defend their trade routes and their ability to access global markets. So Britain needed to prevent Russian regional hegemony from spreading to the Ottoman Near East where it could threaten trade routes to Britain’s far eastern empire. Western support for today’s war in Ukraine is far removed from this outmoded political justification, but it is striking how the justification for arming Ukraine is reminiscent of Palmerston’s logic. Western leaders today seek to ensure Ukrainian sovereignty as an independent nation, free from the Kremlin’s control. Yet, irrespective of the political justification for conflict with Russia, the military objectives of war never change in principle.
Clausewitz writes that “the military power must be destroyed, that is, reduced to such a state as not to be able to prosecute the war.”[5] This adage describes the present policy of the United States and its allies in seeking the defeat of the Russian military in Ukraine. In broad strategic terms, this policy appears to be obviously advantageous to the United States and its allies.
Russia, formerly the Soviet Union, has sat as a strategic thorn in the side of the West since the end of the Second World War. At the conclusion of that titanic clash, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill asked the Chiefs of Staff to provide plans for an allied invasion of the Soviet Union which would have, astoundingly, seen the British and Americans join up with the remains of the German Army for a campaign against the Red Army. Appropriately, this plan was code named Operation Unthinkable.[6] Reading the outline given to Churchill by the Chiefs of Staff, one is struck by the lack of comprehension of the strategic realities of the day. The closest the document ever gets to acknowledging the near insurmountable challenge of taking on the Red Army at the height of its powers, the same army that had just defeated the largest land invasion in history and then marched across the face of Eastern and Central Europe to take Berlin, is this: “The one thing certain is that to win it would take us a very long time.”[7] Defeating the military power of the Russian Federation today, however, is not the same proposition as defeating the Red Army in 1945. The Russian armed forces have not acquitted themselves well in Ukraine, and their logistical problems, as well as questions of command and decision making, show that their military power is second rate. The difference between the professionalism and combat effectiveness of Russian troops in 1945 and today would be far more relevant for western strategic planners were it not for one crucial point—the revolution in strategy which followed the advent of nuclear weapons.
Consider China. In the wake of the Second World War, Chinese dictator Mao Tse-tung coveted a nuclear weapon.[8] His programme for attaining the technology required to build a bomb, not to mention technical assistance from the Russians, was a long game. Eventually this long game, which Mao considered the cornerstone of his superpower programme, paid dividends—China’s first atomic bomb was detonated at Lop Nor in the Gobi desert on the 16th of October, 1964.[9] Developing the requisite technology to build and successfully test an atomic weapon in an essentially agrarian society beset by devastating famines and kleptocratic governance was a minor miracle. The cost was tremendous. Mao understood a simple truth: possessing nuclear weapons changes the strategic calculus. Possession of the ultimate weapon reduces, but does not replace, reliance on conventional forces.
Russia today possesses a formidable, if unevenly upgraded, nuclear arsenal. What Russian forces have lost since 1945 in fighting ability has been compensated for by that nation’s strategic arsenal. Therefore the battlefield success of Ukrainian forces in wearing out the Russian army cannot bring about the political objective sought by the United States if the intention is to collapse the Russian regime, perhaps by forcing an end to Vladimir Putin’s tenure at its head. What it can and will achieve is the destruction of Russia’s conventional fighting strength. The question remains: what will the cost of such a policy be?
Putin, like Mao, is interested in amassing as much power—military and geopolitical—as he can in his lifetime. It is probable that the invasion of Ukraine represents the end point of a grotesque personal gambit played by Putin after twenty plus years at the head of the Russian state. At the end of March, Putin signposted that he is considering stationing Russian nuclear forces in his satellite state, Belorussia.[10] As echoes of the Euromissile Crisis resound, discussing the nuclear ramifications of the Ukraine War can no longer be avoided. The precedent for dealing with nuclear confrontation, as set out by the Pershing II and cruise missile deployments to Europe made by the United States, which succeeded in deterring Russia at the time from continuing and expanding its SS-20 deployments, is to meet one’s opponent with sufficient strength to conclude an agreement on favourable terms. This is consistent with Clausewitz’ tenets of war. What is different about the nuclear encounter is that it makes real something which Clausewitz stated to be a practical impossibility, namely that all the battles can happen at once—the definition of a nuclear exchange.
