The Trump-Putin call and the geopolitical chessboard

When Russia announced, in its official statement, that it would launch an "operation" against Ukraine, everyone thought Ukraine would be an easy target and that the "operation" would not last long, concluding within a week at most. After all, hadn’t Russia seized Crimea in a similar manner, through a lightning operation, not too long ago?

Putin framed the goals of the operation as follows: liberating the territories of Donetsk and Luhansk, where the Russian minority lives; cleansing Ukraine of neo-Nazi elements like the Right Sector and the Azov Battalion; and definitively preventing Ukraine from joining NATO. The war began on multiple fronts, the strongest of which was in the north, directly aimed at Kyiv. As the war progressed, we observed the Russian army faltering. Ukrainian resistance proved tougher than expected. Suddenly, Russia decided to close many of the fronts it had opened. It abandoned places like Kharkiv, which it had captured but struggled to hold, and concentrated all its forces in the east, in the Donbas region. It succeeded in capturing strategically critical areas like Mariupol near the Sea of Azov.

Russia’s engagement in a conventional war with Ukraine, which had significant Western (NATO) support, over the first two years, defied all expectations. Many commentators attributed this to the decay of Russia’s institutions, including its military. These analyses went so far as to claim that Ukraine’s planned counteroffensive in the second year of the war, announced to begin as soon as winter ended, would result in Russia’s defeat and the liberation of Ukrainian territories. But that didn’t happen. Russia repelled the counteroffensive and continued to advance slowly and methodically. As of today, Russia controls 20% of Ukraine’s territory.

Considering the costs Russia has paid, those who argue that this victory is tainted are not entirely wrong. So, it’s necessary to revisit and reframe the questions being asked. Has Russia, which calls itself a superpower and is often described as such, truly stumbled and tarnished its image against Ukraine, a country that, despite Western support, is not a superpower? (The Wagner incident alone, or Ukraine’s occupation of Kursk, is enough to be seen as a disgrace.) If so, is controlling only 20% of Ukraine in three years any consolation? If Russia calls this a victory, wouldn’t it at best be a Pyrrhic victory? These questions, which contain their own answers, suggest that Russia has won only to lose in the grand scheme.

To be honest, I’m not entirely convinced by these assessments. While I can expect many mistakes from a bureaucratic and rusty war machine like Russia’s, I also know that Russia has often started wars poorly but ended them well. (The Napoleonic Wars and World War II, where Russia hit rock bottom before rising to the top, are evidence of this.) I understand the various weaknesses of the Russian army during the war, the Wagner disgrace, the mistakes made, and Ukraine’s unexpectedly fierce resistance. But no one can convince me that Russia has used its full conventional capacity in this war. Russia, even if it suffered short-term prestige losses, chose to wage a low-profile war, calculating long-term gains. It conducted the war at a much lower intensity than its capacity would suggest. So, what was the big gain it was waiting for? The answer is simple: the inevitable collapse of NATO. If Russia had launched a heavy and swift offensive, it would have given NATO, already in decline, a lifeline and revived it.

Russia was aware of the deepening crack within the West. Let’s look at this: Russia had long known that the post-World War II structure uniting the two sides of the Atlantic—North America and Europe—was in jeopardy. During détente, it had gradually drawn Europe, especially Germany, to its side through energy and other sectors. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the loss of Eastern Europe disrupted this process, as the Warsaw Pact, NATO’s counterpart, was consigned to history. But Russians understand dialectics: where the Warsaw Pact no longer exists, NATO cannot survive either. However, this required time. Russia saw the deepening and slowly widening rift between the U.S. and Europe. It knew that the process that would bring about NATO’s end and bury the Cold War entirely was the activation of this destructive fault line. Putin likely listened with laughter in the Kremlin to Macron’s muttered statement, “NATO is experiencing brain death.” Biden and the Democrats’ efforts to revive NATO by targeting Russia and provocatively starting a war with Ukrainian Nazis presented a golden opportunity. NATO had surged, the U.S. and Europe had reunited, and new members like Sweden and Finland had joined. Russian statecraft saw this as a final burst of energy before death. NATO was already on its last legs. The key was to patiently manage this process, avoiding actions that would strengthen NATO. In the Ukraine war, Russia did exactly that. On the other hand, they saw Trump coming and knew he would pull the plug on NATO when he arrived. (Yes, as President Erdoğan has pointed out, the architects of the system are now dismantling it.) Putin calculated Russia’s place in a world without NATO. This is what a well-functioning statecraft looks like. It does not hesitate to sacrifice short-term gains for long-term strategies. Sometimes, it even treats spilled blood as if it were syrup.

A Trump-Putin meeting took place. We don’t know the details, but we are certain it happened far outside the NATO nebula.