Here you go:
Why Putin doesn’t understand the country he invaded
October 2 2022, The Sunday Times
I am a Ukrainian citizen. When I visited Moscow in 2015 I was treated with pity, as a victim of an American plot to undermine “mighty Russia” by taking control of Ukraine. But what struck me most was a remark that the “Russian and Ukrainian states are like two bottles of water: very much alike, with the difference of one being with gas, the other without”. It wasn’t just Vladimir Putin with his ultra-nationalist rhetoric of one people chained together by a common history: the majority of Russians genuinely believed that Ukraine was just an extension of their country.
But was it — is it — only Russians who were guilty of misunderstanding Ukraine, the largest nation in Europe?
Before the war people in the West also looked at Ukraine through the prism of Russia. Western companies working in the region — until Russia’s invasion in February — were nearly always headquartered in Moscow; few of their employees travelled to Ukraine. At best, Ukraine was viewed as being, well, like Russia; but maybe worse. It was seen as unstable, prone to uprisings and at the mercy of its oligarchs — more corrupt, more divided, more trouble than the behemoth next door.
And because it was viewed as a weak state it was assumed that Ukraine was doomed to collapse in the face of a Russian invasion.
Different political DNA
What many in the West missed was an undercurrent of transformative change occurring inside Ukrainian society and a sharp divergence of Russian and Ukrainian politics. They assumed that cultural links, linguistic similarity, shared geography and myriad direct family connections meant political proximity. The opposite is true. Different attitudes towards power and history have shaped the national stories of both countries. The Russian version is an expansionist imperial project with hierarchical structure, subjugation of its subjects and veneration of a strongman. Ukraine, however, was a nation that emerged through confrontation with external powers (Russia, Turkey, Poland) and survived thanks to co-operation between its citizens and a freedom-loving mindset. One of the symbols of Ukrainian identity is the Cossack, a Turkic word meaning “free man”. These “free men” originally established themselves on the grasslands of southern Ukraine and along the banks of the lower Dnipro river. They later formed a proto-state that existed for more than 100 years until its obliteration by the Russian tsarina, Catherine the Great. It is some of these lands that Putin annexed last week. It is hard to imagine how that occupation could last very long.
Russia: Power over the people
In Russia, it is becoming the worst of times. The country has been captured by an ex-KGB operative, now in power for more than 20 years. President Putin’s top-down system is marked by the rule of fear, cronyism, one-party dominance and sporadic assassinations. Many of the key participants in civil society have been branded as foreign agents and effectively silenced. Opposition figures have been jailed or driven out of the country. Putin’s “contract” with Russian society was simple: stability and relative prosperity in exchange for freedom. Most were seduced. Only 16 per cent of Russians believe democracy is the best system of governance. Only 24 per cent support a market economy.
Whatever was left of federal governance was destroyed by the de facto obliteration of the election of regional governors, especially in the North Caucasus. The country’s economic engine, for now at least, runs on fossil fuels and Moscow redistributes those revenues in exchange for loyalty.
This rigid social structure and the fear of authority extends to the Russian army. It impedes the mobility and agility of units on the battlefield and obstructs the flow of accurate information. In many locations units are cut off from communication and demoralised. They flee as Ukraine advances. Having suffered 50,000 dead and wounded, Putin persists with his war giving orders personally to commanders in Ukraine.
In stark contrast to Ukraine, Russians are demobilising by fleeing the country, hiding from the authorities and googling how to break an arm to avoid mobilisation. But they are not protesting in millions against war crimes, the killing of Ukrainians or Putin’s dictatorship.
Ukraine: Power of the people
What makes Ukrainians resilient is their hope for a better future. This stems from a strong sense of agency. Millions of Ukrainians know they can make a difference. When Russia attacked in February, civil society and local business sectors mobilised behind the war effort and made a difference. In the fog of war, when Kyiv was under attack, many did not wait for orders from the top. They joined up with others locally to create food stocks, source generators, prepare housing for people displaced by the war, and to buy protective equipment and communication devices for territorial defence units. Today more than 70 per cent of the population are engaged in this kind of war effort.
None of this was inevitable.
The road to escaping Ukraine’s Soviet legacy after independence in 1991 has been bumpy, to say the least. Newly formed oligarchic groups strongly opposed reform, Russia penetrated the Ukrainian security service and the country’s political elite. Moscow made Kyiv dependent on its energy. Corruption was endemic.
It took three revolutions — in 1990, 2004 and 2013 — to uproot the barriers to Ukraine’s path to prosperity. But it was all moving in the right direction. Ukraine was a democracy, albeit one with serious governance problems.
Change accelerated in the eight years between Russia’s first invasion in 2014 until its second in February this year. Decentralisation led to the empowerment of local councils and an increased capacity for management in regions beyond Kyiv. Regional budgets increased four-fold compared with 2014 and communities could finally invest in their livelihoods. Trust in mayors and their legitimacy was growing. Across the country mayors have been at the forefront of organising defences against Russia’s invasion. Today, even as Russian missiles continue to destroy cities, there are civic forums discussing how to rebuild Ukraine in a green, transparent and inclusive way.
The armed forces have been reformed, with increased civil society engagement, training from western allies and a more nimble command structure.
New digital tools sustain the country during this most destructive of times. Before the war, Ukraine’s vibrant IT community contributed 5.6 per cent of GDP. This generation is now leading both a digital revolution and resistance.
The relatively new state Diia portal allows instant access to various personal documents on the go. Improved digital governance has boosted trust and allowed for uninterrupted service delivery even when millions were uprooted from their homes. The globally networked, internet-enabled parts of the economy have adapted and continued to function. In energy and trade Ukraine has successfully decoupled from its dependence on Russia.
Innovation is shaping the battlefield outcome too. The Ukrainian army is crowdsourcing its intelligence. More than 300,000 Ukrainians reported Russian collaborators and war crimes using a new chat bot. When Russia announced its partial mobilisation of civilians last month, Ukraine introduced an “army of drones” with the Star Wars actor, Mark Hamill, as its ambassador.
No longer so misunderstood
In the end those bubbles in the water bottle were real differences.
This war has exposed the stark differences between two countries which Putin claims are one nation. Brute force has not been able to subjugate an agile, creative and gritty opponent. Ukraine is offering a 21st-century asymmetric response to a Russian military playbook that has barely evolved since the Second World War. More than 90 per cent of Ukrainians believe they can repel Russian aggression. They have not won yet, but the rest of the West – and indeed those nations that have not yet committed to support Kyiv – should understand that this sense of hope has formidable foundations. It is grounded in the daily experience and display of Ukraine’s inner strength: a fierce civic cohesion that Russia simply cannot match.
Orysia Lutsevych is head of the Ukraine Forum, Chatham House