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Russia’s Putin to visit China following Trump’s trip | Politics News

Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping plan to ‘further strengthen the comprehensive partnership’, the Kremlin says.

Russia’s President Vladimir Putin will pay an official visit to China from May 19 to 20, the Kremlin has announced.

Putin and his Chinese counterpart, President Xi Jinping, plan to “further strengthen the comprehensive partnership and strategic cooperation” between Moscow and Beijing, the Kremlin said in a statement.

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Putin is also scheduled to discuss economic and trade cooperation with Chinese Premier Li Qiang.

Russia’s TASS news agency reported that the visit is timed to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Good-Neighborliness and Friendly Cooperation, a key Moscow-Beijing agreement signed in 2001.

News of Putin’s forthcoming trip arrives one day after United States President Donald Trump departed China following the first presidential visit to Beijing in almost a decade.

Although Trump and Xi touted several broad trade deals, they appeared to make little public progress on key sticking points related to Taiwan or the US-Israel war on Iran.

They also touched on the Russia-Ukraine war, in which China is officially neutral and Xi has presented himself as a mediator.

Still, Xi’s “no limits” alliance with Putin – announced just before the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 – has undercut that stance.

China has also denied reports from Reuters and other news agencies showing that Chinese firms have single-handedly sustained Russian drone production, in part by shipping engines mislabelled as “industrial refrigeration units” to drone assembly plants.

“We discussed – well, it’s one that we’d like to see settled,” Trump said in remarks reported by the Kyiv Post.

Trading partners

As Washington and Beijing’s relationship has been beset by tension, Chinese-Russian relations have only appeared to deepen in recent months.

Although the duo are not formal military allies, they maintain extremely close political and economic ties, with China stepping in to buy Russian oil and goods after Western nations cut ties with Moscow.

Before a four-day trip to China last August, Putin decried “discriminatory” Western sanctions and heaped praise on Beijing.

China is now by far Russia’s biggest trading partner by volume, and transactions are almost entirely carried out in Russian roubles and Chinese yuan, Putin said at the time.

Last month, Xi pressed for “closer and stronger strategic coordination” between Beijing and Moscow in a meeting with Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov.

Xi also visited Russia in May last year and pledged to stand with Moscow against “unilateralism and hegemonic bullying”.

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Putin suggests Russia’s war on Ukraine ‘coming to an end’ | Russia-Ukraine war News

Russian President Vladimir Putin has suggested that his country’s war on Ukraine may be “coming to an end” and expressed a willingness to meet his Ukrainian counterpart, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, in a third country if a peace deal is finalised.

Putin made the comments to reporters on Saturday, hours after promising victory in Ukraine at Russia’s most scaled-back Victory Day parade in years.

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The remarks came as Russia and Ukraine began a three-day ceasefire and agreed to exchange 1,000 prisoners, in developments that raised cautious hopes of renewed diplomatic progress.

At the parade, Putin praised Russian troops fighting in Ukraine, framing their mission as a “just cause” against “an aggressive force armed and supported by the entire NATO bloc”.

“Victory has always been and will be ours,” he added, as columns of troops lined up on Moscow’s Red Square.

Speaking to reporters afterwards, Putin blamed Western “globalist elites” for the war, saying they had promised NATO would not expand eastward after the 1989 fall of ‌the Berlin Wall, but then tried to draw Ukraine into the European Union’s orbit.

He then declared, “I think the matter is coming to an end.”

Russia’s annual Victory Day holiday marks the Soviet Union’s defeat of Nazi Germany in World War II and honours the 27 million Soviet citizens who died in the conflict.

This year’s parade was more subdued than usual, with videos of military hardware shown on giant screens rather than tanks and missile systems rolling through Red Square.

For the first time, Saturday’s parade featured troops from North Korea, a tribute to Pyongyang that sent its soldiers to fight alongside Moscow’s forces to repel a Ukrainian incursion into Russia’s Kursk region.

Russia had declared a unilateral ceasefire for the holiday on Friday and Saturday, while Zelenskyy announced a truce that was supposed to begin on May 6, but neither held, and the parties traded blame for the continuing attacks.

Fears for the festivities eased on Friday, when US President Donald Trump announced that Russia and Ukraine had bowed to his request for a ceasefire running Saturday through Monday and an exchange of prisoners.

“This Ceasefire will include a suspension of all kinetic activity, and also a prison swap of 1,000 prisoners from each Country,” Trump wrote in a Truth Social Post on Friday.

“Talks are continuing” on ending the war, Trump said, adding that “we are getting closer and closer every day”.

“Hopefully, it is the beginning of the end of a very long, deadly, and hard fought War,” he said.

Zelenskyy followed up on Trump’s statement with a decree mockingly permitting Russia to hold its Victory Day celebrations, declaring Red Square temporarily off-limits for Ukrainian strikes.

The Kremlin shrugged off the comments as a “silly joke”.

Zelenskyy has previously proposed to meet with Putin to negotiate a peace deal, but has dismissed the Russian leader’s suggestion that he come to Moscow. On Saturday, Putin told reporters he could meet with Zelenskyy in another country, but only to endorse a comprehensive accord.

“A meeting in a third country is also possible, but only after a peace treaty aimed at a long-term historic perspective is finalised,” Putin said. “This should be a final deal, not the negotiations.”

Putin, who has governed Russia as president or prime minister since the last day of 1999, faces a ⁠wave of anxiety in Moscow about the war in Ukraine, which has killed hundreds of thousands of people, left swaths of Ukraine ⁠in ruins, and drained Russia’s $3 trillion economy.

Russian troops have been fighting in Ukraine for more than four years. That is longer than Soviet forces fought in World War II, known in Russia as the Great Patriotic War of 1941-45.

But Russian forces have so far been unable to take the whole of the Donbas region of eastern Ukraine, where Kyiv’s forces have been pushed back to a line of fortress cities. Russian advances have slowed this year, though Moscow controls just under one-fifth of Ukrainian territory.

European Council President Antonio Costa said last week that there was potential for talks between Europe and Russia on the continent’s future security architecture.

Asked on Saturday if he was willing to ‌engage in talks with the Europeans, Putin said the preferable figure for him was Germany’s former Chancellor Gerhard Schroder.

“For me personally, the former chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany, Mr Schroder, is preferable,” Putin said.

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The disaster unfolding on Russia’s Black Sea coast is of its own making | Environment

Southern Russia is facing one of the largest environmental disasters in its modern history. In April, repeated Ukrainian strikes on Russian oil infrastructure in Tuapse triggered massive refinery fires and oil spills along the Black Sea coast, including near Sochi. Residents described “black rain” falling from the sky as smoke and petroleum residue spread across the region. Weeks later, wildlife is still dying, beaches remain polluted and volunteers trying to respond say their efforts have often been obstructed. The authorities, meanwhile, have focused less on confronting the scale of the catastrophe than on silencing those speaking out about it. Despite the ongoing environmental damage, officials are already discussing reopening the beaches and launching the tourist season.

The catastrophe raises difficult questions about environmental destruction during wartime. Ukraine, which has experienced countless environmental catastrophes related to Russia’s all-out war, has been among the leading actors advocating for the recognition of ecocide as an international crime, even though the concept has yet to be formally codified in international law. Following the April strikes, however, some environmental activists in Russia and beyond are now also accusing Ukraine of hypocrisy and causing long-term environmental harm through strikes on oil infrastructure. There is a real debate over whether such actions can be justified, even when targeting an aggressor, if their environmental consequences may last for decades.

But focusing exclusively on Ukrainian strikes risks obscuring the deeper structural causes of the disaster. Russia’s oil infrastructure is deeply embedded in its war economy, and environmental damage of this magnitude does not occur in a vacuum. It is shaped by years of deregulation, lack of oversight and the systematic dismantling of environmental protections. These trends have only intensified during the full-scale invasion, as environmental safeguards have increasingly been cancelled in order to sustain the war economy. This includes recent legislative changes affecting the protection of Lake Baikal — a unique ecosystem that contains around 23 percent of the world’s unfrozen freshwater — raising concerns among experts about long-term environmental risks.

For years, environmental organisations in Russia have been labelled “foreign agents” or declared “undesirable”, independent environmental movements have been dismantled and activists forced into exile. The current catastrophe is unfolding in a country where ecological disasters are often silenced rather than addressed.

What is striking in the current situation is not only the scale of the damage but the response of the authorities. Rather than responding with transparency and accountability, Russian officials have largely attempted to silence discussion around the disaster. This recalls earlier patterns, including the initial response to the Chornobyl disaster, where secrecy and delayed disclosure significantly worsened the human and environmental consequences.

In this sense, responsibility does not lie only in the immediate cause of the disaster, but also in the absence of preparedness, regulation and accountability.

This disaster has also triggered an unusual wave of discussion within Russia itself, much of it unfolding online, despite increasing censorship. Volunteers on the ground have reported being obstructed and, in some cases, harassed while trying to rescue wildlife. Journalists attempting to document the situation have faced detention. Even as the catastrophe unfolds, the space to speak about it remains tightly controlled.

Yet the public reaction is telling. Much of it is happening on Instagram, which is banned in Russia, and on other social media platforms, with people still using VPNs to speak out and read real news. Rather than turning primarily into accusations against Ukraine, much of this discussion has been directed at the Russian authorities. The disaster is being used, implicitly and sometimes explicitly, to question the lack of coordination, the absence of transparency and the broader political system that allows such crises to happen.

This is significant. In a country where even calling the war a war is effectively prohibited, environmental catastrophe has become one of the few channels through which criticism can still surface.

The situation also exposes a deeper problem that goes beyond Russia. It highlights a fundamental gap in international law: the lack of effective mechanisms to address large-scale environmental destruction in the context of war.

Recent events illustrate the consequences of this gap. The destruction of the Kakhovka Dam caused massive ecological damage, yet failed to generate sustained legal or political accountability at the international level. Since then, environmental destruction has continued to accompany the war, without clear mechanisms to address it.

More broadly, the issue is being sidelined. The war in Ukraine has become so heavily politicised globally that discussions of its environmental consequences are often reduced, avoided or absorbed into larger geopolitical narratives. From the perspective of an environmental activist from Russia, this creates a deep sense of helplessness. These issues are becoming harder to raise, not because they are less important, but because they are competing with an overwhelming number of global crises.

This frustration is also visible within parts of the Russian antiwar movement, where there is a growing perception that international actors are more focused on the economic consequences of the conflict than on addressing its deeper causes and risks that go beyond military threats.

Meanwhile, environmental destruction across Russia, a country that spans one-10th of the Earth’s land surface, continues with little international attention. This includes not only wartime damage, but also longstanding patterns tied to extractivism, colonial governance in national republics, and the systematic marginalisation of Indigenous communities. These are not separate issues. They are part of the same underlying problem, one that remains largely unaddressed.

Environmental exploitation in Russia’s regions has long been tied to older imperial patterns of control and dispossession. These same southern regions are also the regions where the Russian Empire committed genocide against the Indigenous Circassian people, exterminating and expelling more than 95 percent of the local population in the late 19th century. And now, what the Russian authorities seem to care about is not the environmental devastation itself, but reopening the beaches so the region can continue generating income.

While Europe is preparing to spend hundreds of billions of euros responding to what it sees as a growing Russian military threat, far less attention is being paid to the political and economic structures sustaining environmental destruction inside Russia itself. From the perspective of an environmental activist and someone finishing a master’s degree in international affairs, there is a striking gap in how the root causes of this crisis are being addressed.

Too little attention is paid to the deeper structures that sustain it: Russia’s colonial governance and extractivist economic model in the regions of Russia. These issues remain underexplored not only in political decision-making but also in academia and media coverage. This gap is particularly visible in the missed opportunities to engage with emerging Russian decolonial movements and Indigenous activists from national republics, who have long been raising precisely these concerns. Their perspectives remain marginal, even though they are essential for understanding both environmental destruction and political instability in the region.

Many international organisations and NGOs have also scaled down or abandoned work related to Russia’s internal environmental and human rights issues, as well as broader regional dynamics in Eastern Europe and Central Asia. As a result, entire areas of expertise are disappearing at the very moment they are most needed. Voices that could contribute to a deeper understanding, and potentially to long-term solutions, are increasingly sidelined or ignored.

And when catastrophe comes, people are left asking how it became possible for oil to fall from the sky.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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Russia’s Stealthy S-71K Air-Launched Missile Seen In New Detail

Ukraine has released more details of Russia’s S-71K Kovyor — translated as Carpet — an air-launched missile that Kyiv says has been used in combat since late last year. The continued development of weapons in this class highlights the fact that Russia is looking for alternatives to its more established — and more costly — legacy air-launched cruise missiles, with current production levels struggling to meet wartime needs.

The Ukrainian Ministry of Defense’s Main Directorate of Intelligence (GUR) today publicly released new information on the S-71K, including an interactive 3D model. The GUR had previously released details of companies involved in the manufacture of Russia’s Su-57 Felon fighter, and notes that the new missile was specifically developed for this platform.

GUR

“The new missile was first deployed by the enemy late last year and appears to represent the United Aircraft Corporation’s (UAC) initial venture into missile manufacturing,” the GUR says.

The GUR adds that the warhead of the S-71K utilizes a 551-pound OFAB-250-270 high-explosive fragmentation bomb. This bomb, which was developed in the Cold War as a free-fall air-launched weapon, is integrated into the structure of the S-71K, which otherwise features a low-observable airframe.

OFAB-250-270 high-explosive fragmentation bomb repurposed as the missile warhead. GUR

The S-71K’s airframe is made from “a multi-layer fiberglass material with additional reinforcement,” with other internal elements made of aluminum alloys. The airframe has a low-observable shape, with a trapezoidal cross section, chined nose, pop-out swept wings, and an inverted V-tail. Available imagery of the wreckage reveals details of the top-mounted conformal engine intake, feeding a pentagon-shaped intake duct. There are, however, no signs of any low-observable coatings, such as radar-absorbent material, likely to keep costs down.

The S-71K engine air intake. GUR

The GUR also provides information on various electronic components, of which it says “the vast majority” are of foreign origin, including items manufactured in China, Germany, Ireland, Japan, Switzerland, Taiwan, and the United States. As the GUR says, “Continued access to foreign technologies and components allows the aggressor state to develop new weapons and scale their use in the war against Ukraine.”

This makes it one of many Russian weapons relying on foreign parts. For instance, a Russian Shahed-136 strike drone obtained by the GUR contained numerous components from the U.S. as well as parts from Iran, Taiwan, and other nations. Previously, we noted that the GUR found multiple foreign components in a Russian S-70 Okhotnik-B (Hunter-B) flying-wing uncrewed combat air vehicle (UCAV) downed in a case of friendly fire.

The S-71K is powered by a compact R500 turbojet engine, also produced by UAC, and features what the GUR describes as “an inertial navigation system based on simple sensors.”

The R500 turbojet engine. GUR

With three separate internal fuel tanks, Ukraine assesses that the S-71K has an operational range of up to 186 miles. Earlier reports suggest that the missile flies at a speed of Mach 0.6 and at altitudes of up to 27,000 feet.

One of the bladder-type fuel tanks inside the missile. GUR

In 2024, it was reported that Sukhoi had received approval from the Russian Defense Ministry to begin producing the S-71, after it underwent “significant design changes” based on lessons from the Ukraine conflict.

Two views of the S-71 as seen in the original patent, with wings folded and deployed. via X

These changes apparently included increasing the range and reducing the radar cross-section to improve survivability against air defenses.

S-71
A rear view of the S-71K under the wing of a Su-57. via X

The GUR has not said what platform or platforms are understood to have employed the S-71K in the war in Ukraine. As mentioned, the S-71K is known to have been developed with the Su-57 in mind and has at least been tested on this aircraft, with captive-carry trials in April 2024 at the Russian flight research center in Zhukovsky. There is no reason that it couldn’t also be carried by other Russian tactical jets; this would be necessary for large-volume employment, if significant production numbers are actually realized.

It is also expected that Russia will explore the integration of the S-71K with its S-70 Okhotnik UCAV.

S-70 Okhotnik-B (Hunter-B) flying wing uncrewed combat air vehicle (UCAV). Russian Ministry of Defense screenshot/via X

Interestingly, there have also been reports that the S-71K may be complemented by a more advanced weapon, known as the S-71M Monokhrom. While described as a kamikaze drone, this is essentially an air-to-ground missile expected to have a “human-in-the-loop” capability, to allow dynamic targeting, including against moving targets, via a controller on the ground. In this way, it differs from the S-71K, which apparently features a fairly basic inertial guidance system, likely backed up by satellite navigation. The S-71M is also said to feature electro-optical sensors for day and night operations, and multiple warhead options, including high-explosive and shaped charges.

While the S-71K is externally carried by launch aircraft, the S-71M can reportedly also be accommodated in the weapons bay of a Su-57 or S-70 UCAV. So far, we have not seen S-71s with folding tailfins, which would be required for internal carriage.

A graphic showing the external carriage of two S-71Ks under the wing of a Su-57. via X

Earlier this year, unconfirmed reports from Russia suggested that the S-71M Monokhrom may have been used in an attack on a Ukrainian HIMARS launcher in the Chernihiv region, although the Russian military stressed that the target was destroyed by a Geran loitering munition. Images released of S-71M test rounds indicate a missile design that is notably less stealthy than the latest S-71K, but the M-version may also have been refined in the meantime.

An S-71M test article under the wing of a Su-57. via X

In March of this year, the GUR revealed details of another new Russian air-launched cruise missile, the Izdeliye 30, which you can read more about here.

The Defence Intelligence of Ukraine has published an interactive 3D model, the main assemblies, and components of the enemy’s new cruise missile “izdeliye-30,” as well as data on 20 enterprises involved in its production cooperation chain.

🔗: https://t.co/shMagPCZHE pic.twitter.com/6XgEsxVatf

— Defence Intelligence of Ukraine (@DI_Ukraine) March 2, 2026

This missile also has folding wings, but offers a much longer range of at least 930 miles. It is similarly powered by a compact turbojet engine but does not have a stealthy airframe.

Various components in the Izdeliye 30 appear to have been reused from existing weapons, reducing cost and complexity and speeding development.

Based on its range, the Izdeliye is likely intended as a cheaper, simpler alternative to the air-launched cruise missiles otherwise used by Tu-95MS and Tu-160 bombers, namely the Kh-101 and Kh-555 (the Kh-55 carries a nuclear warhead).

Meanwhile, the S-71K appears to be tailored for tactical crewed and uncrewed aircraft, while its more limited range is partly compensated for by the fact that it has low-observable features (and is intended for launch from low-observable platforms).

The S-71K should also offer a cheaper alternative to the Kh-69, a weapon widely associated with the Su-57, although it can also be launched by ‘legacy’ Russian tactical aircraft. You can read about this air-to-surface missile here.

1/ TASS reports that KTRV will display (a mock-up of) its Kh-69 air-launched cruise missile (ALCM) at the upcoming “Army-2022” forum.

Specifications:
– Max range (km): 290
– Cruise speed (km/h): 700 – 1,000
– Warhead (kg): 300 – 310 (depending on configuration) pic.twitter.com/UD38MsNNpG

— Guy Plopsky (@GuyPlopsky) August 11, 2022

While it remains to be seen exactly how the S-71 series will be used in an operational context, it’s clear that Russia has a need for cheaper, easier-to-produce air-launched missiles for its combat aircraft fleet. 

Just as the U.S. military is facing the challenge of limited munitions stocks as it prepares for a potential future conflict with China, Russia has a requirement today for strike weapons that can be manufactured cost-effectively and in large numbers.

A Su-57 undergoes trials with a pair of S-71K missiles. via X

At minimum, the deployment of the S-71 poses an additional challenge for Ukraine’s already strained air defense forces, especially given the continued scarcity of Western-supplied ground-based air defense systems.

Contact the author: thomas@thewarzone.com

Thomas is a defense writer and editor with over 20 years of experience covering military aerospace topics and conflicts. He’s written a number of books, edited many more, and has contributed to many of the world’s leading aviation publications. Before joining The War Zone in 2020, he was the editor of AirForces Monthly.




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How Putin’s Coup-Proofing Measures Have Undermined Russia’s War Effort in Ukraine

Authoritarian leaders like President Vladimir Putin are faced with a dilemma: they require their military forces to competently conduct campaigns against external enemies, but these same capabilities make them more capable of successfully initiating coups to remove the incumbent leader.  Putin, like other leaders of his ilk, is forced to balance policies which promote competence in the armed forces with measures that ensure regime survival.  The latter are referred to as ‘coup-proofing’ measures, the implementation of which, to some extent explain the underperformance of the Russian war effort in Ukraine.

Counterbalancing and Parallel Forces

The coup-proofing measure of most consequence to Russia’s military performance in Ukraine is ‘counterbalancing’.  This involves the introduction of new security forces to counterbalance the military and each other.  A splintered security sector filled with various armed groups are in competition with each other for funding, recruits, and supplies, as well as the ruling autocrat’s attention, which is ultimately vital for attaining the aforementioned resources. 

Counterbalancing confers three advantages.  Firstly, it promotes loyalty by encouraging competition and distrust between militarized factions who must demonstrate allegiance to the leader to secure resources.  Secondly, it deters coups because the officers and senior figures distrust their counterparts in other organizations; and thirdly, it prevents the likelihood of a coup succeeding as it is more difficult for military and security forces operating under disparate chains of command to coordinate and cooperate effectively.

To quote, a 2017 paper appearing in the Journal of Conflict Resolution, ‘If coups are akin to coordination games, counterbalancing can be understood as an effort to add additional players to the game – actors who lack the incentive to move in concert with the others.’

Counterbalancing is rarely used in isolation and may be combined with other coup-proofing measures.  For example, authoritarian leaders frequently favour loyalty over meritocracy when selecting staff for senior military and security positions.

Mercenaries as Parallel Forces

Several parallel armed groups exist outside of the Russian military’s chain of command.  The most high-profile example is the use of mercenaries from Wagner Group, formerly led by Yevgeny Prigozhin until his demise in August 2023.  Wagner Group employs an estimated 50,000 soldiers, 40,000 of which are believed to be released prison convicts.  For Putin, the introduction of mercenaries to the war in Ukraine conferred several benefits including a degree of plausible deniability, less domestic blowback from casualties, and an alternative source of manpower which was especially valuable prior to the partial mobilization in September 2022.

From a coup-proofing perspective, the introduction of a private military company (PMC) with overlapping responsibilities to the regular military promoted greater competition between senior leaders.  This rivalry was exacerbated by the contest for vital resources like ammunition, supplies and personnel. 

The feud between Wagner’s late leader with Defence Minister Sergei Shoigu and Chief of the General Staff Valery Gerasimov was especially bitter.  Prigozhin frequently levelled scathing criticism at the two men, and other senior military officers for their handling of the war, accusing them of stealing the credit for Wagner’s battlefield successes in Ukraine, and even attempting to sabotage the PMC’s efforts by withholding vital ammunition. 

For a time, this suited Putin.  Prigozhin was careful to avoid directly criticizing the Russian president himself which helped to deflect any blame Putin might receive from the public onto his generals.  Moreover, Prigozhin’s actions appeared to fit a preestablished pattern in Russian politics whereby senior figures jostle against each other to secure the president’s favour. 

There are several Russian PMCs in addition to Wagner Group.  Konstantin Pikalov, once thought to be Prigozhin’s right hand man and the head of Wagner operations in Africa, heads his own mercenary group called ‘Convoy’, which were founded in occupied Crimea in Autumn 2022.  Another group is ‘Redut’, which was likely formed to provide security for Russian-owned facilities in Syria, but it believed to have been one of the first PMCs to provide personnel during the invasion of Ukraine in February last year.

The Russian energy giant Gazprom also has mercenaries in the guise of ‘private security organizations’, which energy companies were permitted to create after a new law was passed by Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin in February 2023.  It is unclear whether the various groups associated with Gazprom subsidiary Gazprom Neft will exclusively guard the company’s energy facilities or whether they will take on active combat roles in Ukraine.

Other Parallel Forces

Mercenaries are not the only parallel forces at play.  In 2016, Putin formed the Rosgvardiya (National Guard) under the leadership of Viktor Zolotov, the president’s former bodyguard.  The formation of the Rosgvariya entailed the reorganization of preexisting internal security forces into a new agency which directly reports to Putin.  Ostensibly, the Rosgvardiya’s responsibilities largely concern public order, policing, and counterterrorism, but the 300,000 to 400,000 strong force certainly acts as a deterrent to would-be coup-plotters.  The Rosgvardiya has also reportedly seen action in Ukraine.

Similar examples of counterbalancing can be seen in the intelligence sphere.  Three of the country’s most important intelligence services, the GRU, the SVR, and the FSB, each have their own elite special forces contingents.  Competition and mutual distrust between the three is rife due to a high degree of overlapping tasks and low degree of cooperation.  The FSB have attracted a particularly high degree of rancour from the GRU and SVR because of its increasingly proactive role conducting operations beyond its domestic remit.  Additionally, counterintelligence officers from the FSB are embedded directly within the armed forces to monitor signs of dissent. 

Finally, there are parallel forces provided by the Russian republics.  Just two days after the invasion of Ukraine, Ramzan Kadyrov, the Kremlin-appointed leader of Chechnya, confirmed that the 141st Special Motorized Regiment – better known as the Kadyrovites – were operating in the country.  The Kadyrovites are essentially a paramilitary organization loyal to Kadyrov, functioning as his private army. 

Like Prigozhin, Kadyrov has been highly critical of the Russian military leadership but avoided levelling such critiques at Putin.  By emphasizing the effectiveness of Chechen fighters over regular Russian forces, Kadyrov may have been hoping to make himself appear more indispensable to Putin.

How Coup-Proofing Degrades Military Effectiveness

The introduction of several players incentivized to hold each other in mutual suspicion is not conducive to an effective and unified war effort, as events in Ukraine have demonstrated.  As explained by James M. Powell, coup-proofing ‘undermines the fighting capacity of a military by creating coordination challenges in the field.’  Unity of command is necessary for a coup to be effective, but it is just as necessary for conducting a war.  The absence of unified command has thus jeopardized the entire Russian war effort.

The lack of a unified command structure was evident in the early stages of the war.  In the first months following the invasion, Western and Ukrainian intelligence agencies and analysts were unable to identify a single overall commander of the Russian forces in Ukraine.  Instead, it was believed that separate formations were drawn from each of Russia’s four military districts and placed under the command of senior officers from each district, with Putin taking on an oversized role, sometimes reportedly giving orders to field formations.  Last April, Army General Aleksandr Dvornikov was finally named as overall commander but there have been at least three reshuffles at the top since then.

Wagner’s increasing share of frontline duties further undermined unity of command, with Prigozhin and his mercenaries not subject to the authority of the regular armed forces.  Tensions between Prigozhin and the miliary leadership culminated in Wager Group’s mutiny in June.  A civil war or coup seemed momentarily possible in Russia until a deal was brokered by Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko.  Prigozhin was later killed in a plane crash in August removing him from the chessboard altogether, but his insubordination was a clear sign that Putin had miscalculated and allowed the rivalries simmering between the members of his inner circle to burn too hot.

Beyond Prigozhin’s dramatic rebellion, Coup-proofing has created other unintended consequences which have hindered Russia’s military efforts.  An overemphasis on loyalty at the expense of competence coupled with fierce competition between the security and defence services have created incentive structures that have undermined honesty and integrity, inter-service cooperation, and professionalism. 

These trends were identified by analysts as being particularly pervasive in the Russian intelligence community even before the invasion of Ukraine.  For example, a 2021 Congressional Research Service report noted that ‘Agencies compete with each other for greater responsibilities, budgets, and political influence, often at the expense of other agencies.’  As Mark Galeotti puts it, ‘The competition for presidential approval is especially strong and has led to a perverse competition to tell the boss what they think he wants to hear, not what he needs to hear.’  This culture likely incentivised the Russian intelligence community to provide briefings to Putin prior to the invasion that confirmed his preconceptions that Ukraine would offer little resistance.

It is equally questionable if the most competent officers have been granted the responsibility to lead Russia’s war on Ukraine.  Sergei Surovikin, a veteran of several conflicts and broadly considered to be capable officer by most military analysts, was made the overall commander of Russian forces in Ukraine in October 2022.  However, Surovikin was replaced in January the following year by Valery Gerasimov, despite the latter having already attracted much of the blame for implementing a faulty strategy in his role as the Chief of the General Staff.  In August, Surovikin was then stripped of his role as the commander of the Russian aerospace forces due to suspicions that he was linked to the Wagner rebellion. 

Other officers have met similar fates.  On July 12, Major General Ivan Popov, who led the 58th Combined Arms Army stationed in Ukraine’s southern Zaporizhzhya region, disclosed that he had been relieved of his command after he made complaints to Gerasimov regarding the lack of troop rotations.  He also highlighted issues his soldiers were having with counterbattery radar and artillery reconnaissance.  Popov’s dismissal indicates that senior military personnel are seemingly unable to report the facts on the ground to their superiors without facing charges of disloyalty or disciplinary action.  Such a culture, especially within the Russian military’s highly hierarchal command structure will make it increasingly difficult for commanders to make informed decisions based on accurate information.

Thus far, Putin’s coup-proofing strategy has succeeded in fragmenting the Russian security elite sufficiently to secure his hold on power, despite Prigozhin’s short-lived insubordination.  However, these same measures which have enabled Putin to safeguard his rule have seriously undermined Russia’s war effort in Ukraine.  The constituent parts of Russia’s defence and security apparatuses fail to act as a whole and there is ample evidence that senior leaders have been promoted on the basis of perceived loyalty over competence.  A culture of competition and distrust has hindered cooperation, coordination, and honesty, which has led to poor decision-making, the results of which have played out on the battlefields of Ukraine since February last year.

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