Eurasia Press & News
At the start of this month, Kyiv’s exhausted forces seemed at last overwhelmed by their opponents’ superiority in manpower and firepower. But once again, they have defied expectations. The Ukrainian Armed Forces’ mass incursion into Russian territory has unfolded at lightning speed and with unexpected success. More than 1,000 troops now occupy a swathe of the Russian Federation’s territory, which Moscow is struggling to recover.
Ukraine has launched occasional smash-and-grab raids on Russia over the last two and a half years, but this attack is on another scale entirely — it is a bona fide invasion. Ukrainians are justifiably cock-a-hoop. Putin’s three-day war to conquer their country has resulted in what many commentators have claimed is the first invasion of Russia since the Second World War. The mood in ruling Russian circles could, meanwhile, hardly be bleaker. Moscow is struggling with a spluttering economy and a growing military recruitment problem — despite offering increasingly large cash bonuses to recruits, the number of newcomers is still matched by the number of casualties. Ukraine’s “terrorist” attack on Kursk, as the Kremlin is labelling it, adds more fuel to these fires. It is the most serious issue that Vladimir Putin has faced since February 2022.
Putin has a knack of escaping dire situations with his reputation intact. If we cast our minds back to his first days in power, we are reminded that his Russia has been marched on before — and that the president responded mercilessly. Will he do the same this time?
Twenty-five years before Ukrainian troops crossed the border on 6 August, the militant Shamil Basayev led roughly 2,000 men from Chechnya — legally a part of Russia but de facto independent since Boris Yeltsin’s embarrassing failure to suppress the territory in a war that ended in 1996 — into Russia’s Dagestan region. The troops killed Russian border guards, captured several settlements and declared an independent state. Basayev’s men would remain in Dagestan for a month before Moscow’s armed forces finally dislodged them. After the humiliations of the Nineties, Russia’s superpower status had been replaced by bankruptcy, the loss of empire and now the inability to militarily control its own territory.
Three days after Basayev’s attack on Dagestan, Putin was appointed Prime Minister of Russia. The attack was just what the new man in the Kremlin needed to underscore the difference between him and his impotent post-Soviet predecessors: a casus belli to win back Dagestan, re-invade Chechnya, make Russia whole again, and thus prove that a new leader would usher in an era of safety, stability and national pride.
Putin’s rhetoric in 1999 was, if not quite that of a firebrand, then certainly uncompromising. In September of that year, as the war in Dagestan turned into a war in Chechnya, and the war in Chechnya led to terrorist attacks on Moscow and other Russian cities, Putin declared: “We will pursue the terrorists everywhere. You will forgive me, but if we catch them on the toilet, we will wipe them out in the outhouse.” Within five years, the Chechen capital, Grozny, had been obliterated and 50,000 Chechen civilians were dead. Putin’s forces had piloted the scorched earth form of warfare that they have recently reprised in Ukraine. When it came to Russia’s “stability”, any means justified the ends.
The Chechen insurgency took half a decade to finally subdue, but the war made Putin’s name as somebody who would keep Russia safe, no matter the cost. In the minds of Russians, the war was a vital part of kickstarting a decade of unprecedented wealth and success. National humiliation was replaced by national pride.
“The Chechen war made Putin’s name as somebody who would keep Russia safe, no matter the cost.”
Can Putin, now an ageing incumbent, repeat the trick? Will the Kursk incursion be the “proof” that Russia needs to be “saved” from Ukraine — drawing international support? Threading such a fine-eyed needle will be tough for Putin. At the moment, Russian troops seem to be making no headway in responding to a well-equipped and trained Ukrainian army. The local population of Kursk are fleeing the invaders. Russians are expecting Putin to solve the problem, but few are leaping at the chance to help: only the promise of earning outlandish sums of money — between $1,600-$4,000 — for digging defensive trenches is drawing them in. Young conscripts, who are being deployed en masse for the first time in this war, seem more likely to surrender than to throw themselves into battle. But withdrawing experienced troops from occupied Ukraine to send to Kursk risks Putin’s gains after years of war.
Putin’s own behaviour this week stands in marked contrast to that of the arriviste of 1999. His response to the invasion — a mere “provocation” staged by a handful of “saboteurs” — has been conducted from the confines of the Kremlin. Publicly at least, it has been restricted to a single televised Security Council meeting. During this session with regional governors, Putin appeared either short tempered, cutting one politician short, or indifferent, as he listened to reports of evacuations and military preparations. His own words were limited to vague affirmations that something would be done: “We must assess the developments unfolding there, and we will offer our evaluation.” Unlike in 1999, Putin seems unwilling to associate himself with the invasion, and therefore unable to inspire the masses as he then did. Putin appears as impotent as Boris Yeltsin in 1999, when he meekly handed the baton over to his young successor.
Yet this apparent unwillingness to take the lead does not mean that Putin is helpless. In the early 2000s, the Chechen war was characterised by similar difficulties with conscription, bungling military failures and immense internal corruption. At times, the president was deluged with questions about his slowness to act. “Our army”, he explained, “is strong enough to “go all the way through [Chechnya] and back again. But that’s not the point. The point is to totally destroy the terrorists’ bases.” In the end, Putin waited for the moment to strike, then used every military means at his disposal to win. He might do the same again today. The question is: would Putin be willing to annihilate parts of Kursk to win back his territory? With his legacy at risk, he may yet restore his reputation as a man willing to sacrifice anything for victory.
