Putin is fighting an impossible war – and there’s no escape
Why do states start impossible wars? This question is prompted by Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. But it applies to Europe’s great tragedies over more than a century. Most obvious is a failure of intelligence; governments do not start wars they think they will lose. For Russia’s rulers to believe that a relatively small invading force could conquer Ukraine in a few days, and then hold down a hostile population supported from outside, is proof of a huge failure somewhere.
How could a government machine composed of experienced, ruthless and intelligent men make such a gross error? Similarly, how could the German government in 1914 think they could defeat an alliance of France and Russia, and probably Britain? How could Hitler in 1939 think he could
Russia is in thrall to myths of military invincibility, just like Germany was in the 1930s
conquer Europe? For the defeated and occupied countries, and for Britain, German victory twice seemed agonisingly close. But in reality, its acts of aggression were almost inevitably doomed. Germany, like today’s Russia, was far too weak in population, resources and economic capacity.
Some might answer “but they nearly did win”. Yet even if the Kaiser’s army had won the battle of the Marne in August 1914, or if Britain had asked for peace terms in May 1940, or indeed if Putin’s troops had taken Kyiv last February, what then? How could they think victory might be permanent? How could they imagine holding down bitterly hostile countries, even if the rest of the world left them alone?
There were several explanations, which I think shed light on the Ukraine disaster too. First, generals who will not admit to their masters that they fear defeat. Both Germany and Putin’s Russia suffered from myths of military invincibility. Generals may warn of obstacles, and they certainly did so in Germany before 1914 and in the late 1930s. Perhaps some of Putin’s generals did the same. But their jobs, prestige and budgets demand that they reassure their masters they have a plan.
Such were the German army’s Schlieffen Plan in 1914 and Operation Yellow in 1940. Politicians and generals convinced themselves that these were bold and brilliant solutions offering rapid victory. But such plans inevitably focused minds on the short term, and left the aftermath vague. The Russian attack on Kyiv showed the same recklessness, without the competence.
For such risks to seem reasonable, there has to be some ideological foundation. The common elements were short-term fatalism and longterm fantasy. Fatalism, in believing war was inevitable and time short. In 1914 and 1939, Germany’s rulers believed they were surrounded by enemies amid a deteriorating security position. This mindset kills objections; anyone advocating moderation is dismissed as a coward or a traitor.
The long-term fantasy was in both cases some variant of racial nationalism, carried to the most extreme extent by the Nazis. So the fantasy victory will mean the triumph of the Teuton over the Slav in 1914; or of the Master Race in a struggle for world domination in 1939; or of the Greater Russia in 2022. Such fantasy underestimates the enemy and closes down long-term discussions by making practical concerns seem trivial: why bother about future trade relations or political systems when the aim is to reshape the globe?
War has always been the greatest source of upheaval. Even victory takes its toll; defeat demands a far harsher reckoning. How harsh depends on the cohesiveness of society and state; and in Russia, they weren’t in 1917. So the Bolshevik coup and civil war caused far more bloodshed than WW1 battles.
And now? If there is a pattern, it is of the army, desperate to stave off total disaster, insisting more or less politely on regime change: in Russia in 1917, Germany in 1918, France in 1940, Italy in 1943 and (nearly) in Germany in 1944. Will Russia’s officer corps decide that Putin is too great a danger to themselves and a perfect scapegoat? Or will they remember the German officers put up against a wall in 1944?