Were the Generals Right?
September 21, 2026
Shailendra Dhar
Putin repeatedly chose restraint at the very moments when decisive action could have prevented the conflict from escalating and becoming more costly. This allowed Ukraine and its Western backers to build a significantly stronger war machine.
Russia launched the SMO, expecting military pressure to force a collapse or negotiated settlement. It led to talks in Istanbul, and Russia withdrew from Kiev while agreement was was reached in April 2022, but the panicked West, through Boris Johnson, aborted it.
According to a Russian Army officer, now retired, Russian generals had then suggested withdrawing another 100 km towards the Belarus border in the north while using that time to strengthen supply lines (which Russian forces were struggling with around Brovary and Hostomel) as talks in Belarus and Türkiye yielded results. This was when Russia’s MoD declared all Ukrainian air defenses neutralized within the first week.
Footage of inexperienced Russian recruits and their hilarious interactions around the suburbs were making the rounds on social media, prompting commentators to describe it as the friendliest (and perhaps funniest) invasion ever.
At that moment, Russia held a massive advantage in long-range missiles, aviation, artillery, air defense, and ground forces. Ukraine, despite NATO training and equipment since early 2015, was far less equipped than it would subsequently become. Western governments were also far more cautious about escalation with Russia than they later became.
Once the Istanbul agreement was aborted, military analysts believed Russia would restart air strikes against military and strategic targets in Ukraine, making Western military support dangerous and uncertain. The Polish rail logistical corridor was among the principal targets—the same rail line Boris Johnson used to entice Zelensky into abandoning the so-called Istanbul Agreement, and later used for military supplies to Kiev forces.
Yet Russia’s response was limited to minor demonstration hits, such as recent localized strike 3 km from the Polish border that demonstrated capability without altering strategic reality.
Eventually, Poland became an enormous military logistics hub. By 2024, Poland acknowledged that it had been delivering packages of weapons and ammunition since the beginning to facilitate the movement of military equipment into Ukraine.Similar supply routes through Odesa and Romania were used to transport ammunition.
Russia allowed the Western connection to survive and expand.
Initial German transfers included Panzerfaust 3 anti-tank weapons and Soviet-era Strela-2 MANPADS from East German stockpiles. Soon, Berlin was supplying Stinger man-portable air-defense missiles and anti-tank weapons. Britain supplied NLAWs and subsequently Starstreaks. Lethal weapons.
Western governments feared direct war with Russia; escalation was incremental: HIMARS, NASAMS, IRIS-T, Patriot, Storm Shadow, ATACMS, and even F-16s.
And that’s how Putin’s red lines failed. Putin’s restraint and graduated Western escalation made it easy for governments in west to manage public support for funding the war.
Putin’s half-hearted approach and his penchant for diplomatic dance—which he so loves to play—gave Ukraine something extraordinarily valuable in war: Time. Time to acquire weapons and air defense, establish logistics, disperse ammunition, and critically, time to acquire, deploy, and develop drones.
The October 8, 2022 attack on the Kerch Bridge was another missed opportunity for deterrence. From a purely military perspective, this was an obvious moment for deterrence, and that’s what military experts expected. Putin dithered again. Weren’t there pretty bridges across the Dnipro? Other critical logistics infrastructure? Instead, Russia’s response remained a conventional pattern of strikes—insufficient and definitely not deterrent.
Russia allowed the West to discover its limits without crossing Moscow’s threshold: the “frog in boiling water” syndrome.
The Surovikin Episode
On October 8, 2022, immediately after the Kerch Bridge attack, much-celebrated Sergei Surovikin was appointed commander of Russia’s Ukraine Force. Nicknamed “General Armageddon,” he had a reputation for effective military campaigns, having commanded Russian forces in Syria and later during the Southern Ukraine campaign, winning military awards; his role in decimating the Chechen rebellion was equally notable.
A realist military general, he understood the war had become an attritional conflict requiring the preservation of Russian combat power. He hit the ground running. Within a week, on October 10, he launched massive attacks on Ukrainian military and strategic facilities. By October 22, air strikes caused crippling destruction of underground command centers operated by Western military personnel.
The Western press was shocked, calling him “Butcher” in classic Western-style narrative journalism. Fortune reported 1.5 million households in an Ukraine were without electricity and worse. Le Monde was in genuine dismay, while Politico wondered if he could turn the tide. Surovikin moved with the idea that increased attacks on Western Ukrainian strategic targets would not only disrupt Western military support routes, but also demoralize the political and military support base for the war.
The Russian public’s mood was reflected in the praise of prominent Russian personalities, who hailed him as a Hero of Russia. Russia was expending vast manpower and ammunition in a grueling battle in the east, while Ukraine’s strategic rear remained connected to Europe.
Before the new Russian military emphasise could severe that connection on January 11, 2023—only three months after taking overall command—Surovikin was replaced by Valery Gerasimov and he demoted to deputy. Contemporary assessments noted that Surovikin stabilised Russian lines, forced the dispersal of Ukrainian forces, and launvhed devastating attacks on military centers, many operated by Britain and Germany. Why was a commander trying to cut the war short, removed so abruptly? If only he had continued, that ugly Wagner episode might never have happened.
The Prigozhin Warning
Prigozhin’s forces were heavily involved in the fighting around Soledar and Bakhmut. Wagner claimed Soledar in January 2023 and Bakhmut on May 20, 2023, after months of extraordinarily costly fighting. He achieved what Russian regular forces had failed to do under that Kremlin bureaucrat, Shoigu. Prigozhin complained, initially softly then increasingly bitterly, that Shoigu and Surovikin’s successor, Gerasimov, were intentionally blocking and delaying arms supplies and intel reports to the front lines, particularly to Wagner. He charged that, typical of bureaucratic intrigues, Shoigu did not want Wagner to succeed. Wasn’t Putin aware of it?
Prigozhin’s increasingly bitter dispute with Shoigu and Gerasimov culminated in the extraordinary events of June 23–24, 2023. Wagner seized the Southern Military District headquarters in Rostov and began moving toward Moscow before the revolt was halted—eventually leading to his death and the de facto end of Wagner, with serious military consequences for Russian interests in Africa where Wagner forces played crucial roles. Like Surovikin, Prigozhin was immensely popular with the Russian public.
The result of Putin’s hesitance and Western escalation was the Kursk disaster, and now increasingly blatant drone attacks on Russian civilian and oil infrastructure.
Putin is running out of time. Repeated wartime blunders rarely end well for leaders, and Putin is unlikely to be an exception. As soon as elections end, he will likely return to his diplomatic ballet, emboldening Europe to intensify its proxy attacks on Russia.
Russia must either commit to full operational seriousness or risk being permanently bled by Western incremental proxy warfare until it ends in catastrophe for all. The sooner Putin’s advisors get it, the better.
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