By Vladislav Inozemtsev for The Moscow Times
In recent centuries, major conflicts involving great powers have become wars of large coalitions — not so much dynastic or ad hoc alliances (such as could be seen, for example, in the War of the Spanish Succession), but coalitions directly engaged in efforts to contain an aggressor or a dominant power.
The first illustrative example was the Napoleonic Wars, when most European countries, with the exception of those occupied by France, united against it, leaving it no real chance of victory.
Later, it was precisely the strength of coalitions that secured all major victories, both against individual rivals (as in the case of Russia in the First Crimean War of 1853–1855 or, excuse me, Iraq in 1991) and against alliances of states (as in the First or Second World War). In cases where coalitions of similar size and strength formed on each side, a status quo outcome became possible (as in Korea by 1953).
However, it can be stated with confidence that over at least the past two hundred years, no single power acting alone has managed to win a war that went beyond a blitzkrieg that other participants either could not or chose not to join. The course of prolonged conflicts has shown (notably in the First and Second World Wars) that support for their initiators steadily declined as the confrontation dragged on, while the ranks of opposing coalitions gradually expanded.
This trend also does not suggest that Russia currently has any chance in Ukraine of achieving its “stated goals,” as President Putin occasionally likes to claim.
A significant point is that modern wars (especially unsuccessful ones) have become a critically important factor in reshaping the political systems of the countries involved.
In practice, almost none of the conflicts of the European Middle Ages (unless they ended in the direct annexation of an independent state) called into question the stability of the political systems of the participating countries.
However, starting from the 19th century, such outcomes became increasingly common (one can recall France’s defeats in 1814 and 1871), and the First World War became a textbook example of how the strains of war destroyed the political systems of all countries that can hardly be considered winners: Russia, Austria-Hungary, Germany, and the Ottoman Empire. This case is particularly important because a long positional war, whose strategic futility and economic cost were evident, led to the collapse of the regimes of the initiating states even before their formal defeat — and, in fact, determined it.
Less dramatic examples of political upheaval caused by military failures include the unrest of 1905–1907 in Russia after its defeat in the war with Japan; changes in the political regime in France during the Algerian conflict; or the transition to democracy in Argentina after the defeat in the Falklands. As societies move away from absolute monarchy (or absolute dictatorship — as in Iraq after 1991), unsuccessful and economically disastrous wars do not pass without consequences for political institutions, and this promises Russia difficult times: convincing the population that any outcome of the war will amount to a “victory for Putin” will be far more difficult than political technologists assume.
Finally, an important point is the economics of war. For many centuries, wars were economically rational undertakings, providing rich spoils, new territories and subjects, as well as generous reparations. This ended about a century and a half ago, when France, for reasons that are difficult to explain, declared war on Prussia in 1870 and was defeated, ceding Alsace and Lorraine to the victors and paying an indemnity of 5 billion gold francs — equivalent to $212 billion in today’s terms, based on the price of gold as of May 10, 2026. Since then, no war has ended in a way that is economically advantageous for the victor: the cost of modern conflicts has become so high that the defeated country is unlikely to be able to compensate for it.
An exception can be considered the Gulf War, after which Iraq, defeated by an international coalition, was subjected to reparations of $52.4 billion, the final installments of which were only paid 30 years later, in early 2022.
Russia’s war in Ukraine has become one of the most expensive conflicts of recent decades — direct costs are estimated at no less than $200 billion per year, exceeding U.S. spending on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan in any year between 2003 and 2010. Any “gains” by Russia in Ukraine (even if some territories remain — most likely temporarily — under Moscow’s control) will not be able to compensate for even a small fraction of the Kremlin’s expenditures, not to mention the cost of the war’s consequences and indirect damage. Moreover, the most likely scenario, as suggested above, is additional enormous costs in the form either of reparations (less likely) or confiscated Russian reserves used for Ukraine’s reconstruction (which is quite plausible). This means that, aside from the low probability of strategic success, Russia will almost certainly pay a high and irreversible price for its aggression.
Victory Will Not Come
Everything said above, I repeat, does not mean that Russia’s war in Ukraine has any chance of ending in the near future. However, the longer it continues, the fewer doubts remain that the Kremlin has no chance not only of victory, but also of exiting the conflict “while saving face.”
When Putin calls on Russians to mobilize and work for victory the way Soviet people worked for the front during the Great Patriotic War, he is apparently failing to recognize the inadequacy of his own analogy. The Soviet Union, just six months after the Nazi German invasion, managed to turn the tide of the war, stop the fascist advance at Moscow and Leningrad, create a powerful international coalition and receive massive support in resources and weapons, and instill in its population a belief in victory and an understanding of its existential value.
Today, Putin’s appeals resemble a parody of Joseph Goebbels’ speech on total war — but rhetorical skill did not save Germany, which had already begun its retreat on the Eastern Front, from ultimate defeat. The most Russia could have achieved in this war it could have secured in the summer of 2022 — before Putin had to announce “partial mobilization” and then move toward his “death economy”; before sanctions and Europe’s withdrawal from energy cooperation; before the West began supplying Ukraine with significant quantities of modern weapons; before Ukraine itself began developing a modern defense industry.
Since then, the Kremlin has been sinking ever deeper into a hopeless confrontation that it is increasingly and openly losing — something that will become more evident with each passing month, as in Germany in 1944, or at the very least in 1917.
How this war will end, no one can describe in detail today — but there is no longer any talk of acquiring four (six, eight) regions of Ukraine, and the prospect of Putin remaining at the helm of a humiliated and bankrupt Russia looks increasingly uncertain. Whether he will even manage to hold another parade, even one as truncated as this year’s, is an open question.
None of this should come as a surprise. Or at least it should not surprise those who study history not through Medinsky’s textbooks.
