14. The Russian way of Deterrence, Dmitry Adamsky 2023, from chapter 5
Western scholars are just beginning to explore various aspects of Russian strategy and operations in depth. The topic of coercion will loom large among these endeavors.
In parallel, the Russian expert community has begun its systematic examination of the war. As in the West, exploration in the field of “strategic deterrence” is likely to become one of the avenues of Russian postwar learning. There is already sufficient evidence from Ukraine to pose initial questions about Moscow’s wartime behavior and to frame the postwar research agenda in the realm of “deterrence à la Russe”. Let’s outline several avenues of prospective research. (3,000 words)
War in Ukraine
The Russian invasion of Ukraine thus far has been a forceful phase of a prolonged coercive campaign. The decision to invade had several drivers—regional, global, and ideological. Beyond the issue of Ukraine, fundamental security aspirations and geopolitical frustrations, which had been aggregating for decades, drove the Kremlin to war. In a nutshell, the Kremlin initiated the crisis and eventually invaded Ukraine to rearrange the post–Cold War world order which held Russia as a permanent enemy, to terminate the unipolar moment in world history, and demonstrate the limits of U.S. power.
The Kremlin submitted security requests in December 2021, demanded Ukrainian neutrality, a pledge not to join NATO, security guarantees from the U.S., and a reversal of the current NATO confrontational posture. Since then, Moscow has been steadily provoked to ascend the escalation ladder. The Kremlin aimed to deter Ukraine from further approach with the alliance, to keep it within its own sphere of geopolitical influence and compel the U.S. to accept at least some of its demands. Moscow apparently did not expect all of its requests to be met. Some of those, like a demand to return to the pre-enlargement NATO posture, were obviously unrealistic. Still, the Kremlin anticipated some minimal concessions, at least with regard to the status of Ukraine. Apparently, in the Kremlin’s view, war was not inevitable. Acceptance of some of the demands, such as finding a proper definition on neutrality of Ukraine, and engagement, even a nominal one, in discussing the adjustments of the European security architecture, might have prevented the employment of force. More empirical evidence is needed to support or refute this proposition. Moscow apparently saw the NATO responses and even rounds of shuttle diplomacy as adamant refusal to accept even the basic parts of the Russian position.
An interview with Andrei Sushentsov, one of the leading Russian experts close to the establishment, and a dean of the Russian Foreign Ministry’s elite university of international relations, is indicative of the then Kremlin’s logic. Sushentsov spoke in early February, when the Kremlin apparently realized the vanity of its nonforceful-compellence. He described the standoff as the first step of a higher-stakes phase in Russia’s protracted conflict with the West. According to him, Russian coercive engagement since late 2021 aimed “to force the West to agree to new security architecture for Eastern Europe.” The aim of keeping the threat of war ever-present, argued Sushentsov, was to compel the West to consider concessions it had avoided until then. The uncertainty of the prewar situation was meant to communicate the seriousness of ignoring Russian concerns. To signal the credibility of its intentions, Moscow incrementally amassed forces near the border. After three months of muscle flexing, when the nonforceful rungs of coercion did not deliver, Moscow moved on to forceful means of influence (silovye metody vozdeistvia).
Does the Russian invasion constitute a failure of coercion? Yes and no. If judged by the classical theoretical metrics, this resort to force underscores the futility of coercive influence. On the other hand, if judged by the Russian canon, invasion is merely a transition to the forceful stage of coercive pressure. Deterrence à la Russe is not so much about rhetorical threats as it is about concrete engagement aimed at pressuring one’s strategic will on the competitor. Proactive endeavor and preemptive action underlie the meaning of the Russian term sderzhivanie. The Kremlin expected its nonforceful coercion to produce results. When it did not deliver, Moscow turned to forceful influence. Russian conduct since autumn 2021 may therefore be seen as a single holistic coercion campaign, nonforceful and then forceful.
Putin, in his opening speech of the “special military operation,” framed the invasion as the preemption of a larger war. Such framing of coercion somewhat corresponds with the concept of mabam—campaign between the wars—which lies at the heart of Israeli deterrence theory. It refers to surgical strikes and special operations conducted against an opponent’s valuable military assets and critical infrastructure, and in order to forcefully prevent the acquisition of advanced capabilities. The use of limited force should dissuade the adversary from initiating large-scale aggression that otherwise would demand massive retaliation. When the initial invasion aimed at quick victory didn’t work, the Russian military began adapting. Several rounds of combat adjustments boiled down to more firepower, brute force, and urban combat. Fragmentation and destruction of the Ukrainian military, coupled with annihilation of the defense-industrial infrastructure, followed by strategic operation against critical infrastructure since October 2022, became the Russian theory of kinetic victory.
The war has been unfolding in a nuclear atmosphere from the outset. The omnipresence of the nuclear dimension has been in keeping with the logic of cross-domain coercion. In the weeks leading up to the invasion, the Kremlin introduced the nuclear element to produce a cordon sanitaire around the emerging theater of operations. In other words, nuclear manipulations produced around the battlefield a sphere of the possible, within which conventional operations could achieve results. The aim was to contain the military activity in the realm of a “local conflict”, and prevent it from turning into a “regional war.” The image of unacceptable consequences produced by this cross-domain coercion was aimed at limiting Western assertiveness and responsiveness.
The nuclear signaling aimed to prevent any NATO intervention and to keep to a minimum the stream of armaments. Rhetorical signals included various references by Putin and senior officials to the risk of escalation to nuclear war. In addition to the constantly mounting forces, the nonverbal signaling included the readiness exercise (which was not preplanned), in all three legs of the Russian nuclear triad. During the first week of war to enhance this cordon sanitaire, Putin introduced a special combat regime in the forces of strategic deterrence, (i.e., strategic and nonstrategic nuclear weapons and nonnuclear dual-use long-range weapons).
Russian theory views the employment of “pre-nuclear” or conventional deterrence capabilities as a prelude to nuclear coercion. According to Russian doctrinal views, the merger of pre-nuclear and nuclear tools into one system of coercion expands Russian options on the escalation ladder. Threatening to launch and actually conducting long-range conventional precision-guided strikes, selective or massive, with discriminating damage to the military and civilian infrastructure, should signal the last warning before limited low-yield nuclear use. From the outset, Moscow has been regularly employing advanced munitions and platforms that are dual use—i.e., capable of carrying both conventional and nuclear warheads. In many episodes, the employment of these capabilities has served tactical-operational needs to a lesser extent but constituted strategic signaling. The massive strategic operation against the critical infrastructure began only in October 2022, but nuclear signals escorted it from the outset.
How effective was Moscow’s initial intra-war coercion? Moscow succeeded in deterring NATO from intervening directly. This was somewhat easy, obvious, and effortless, due to the mix of the Western self-deterrence and Russian, especially nuclear, deterrence threats. It was much more challenging to deter the massive transfers of arms, supplies, and intelligence to Ukraine. The challenge became even bigger for Moscow, when deterrence of the West and compellence of Ukraine became almost equally prominent in Moscow’s intra-war coercion. Starting from summer to autumn 2022, the Kremlin started to aim its coercion to compel Ukraine to cease fire and enter into negotiations on Russian conditions. By the end of 2022, coercion as war termination mechanism had not delivered. As of this writing, Moscow failed to compel Ukraine to surrender even by using dual use systems, nuclear and other nonconventional threats, and strategic operation against critical infrastructure. Allegations of perceived chemical, biological, and radiological threats turned into a central motif of informational coercion, aimed at enhancing coercive credibility and preparing the ground for further escalation, whether conventional or nuclear. Similarly, the messianic rhetoric accompanying the verbal and nonverbal signaling aimed to communicate a willingness to escalate and gave an existential aura to the war. In the first eighteen months of war, Moscow’s implicit nuclear signaling as a war-termination mechanism and/or as a compellence tool did not work.
From the outset, experts saw the risk of Russian nuclear escalation as low, but nonetheless real, and the highest in decades. Several prominent acting and former U.S. officials considered a scenario of nuclear escalation to be unlikely but more probable than ever before. Considering contingency plans, they argued that NATO had plenty of conventional resources to respond, and that nuclear retaliation was only a last resort. The predominant recommendation of the Western experts was to qualify the Russian signals as a coercive bluff and disregard them. Experts assumed that the more attention was paid to these signals the more it played into the hands of the Kremlin.
The likelihood of the Kremlin’s employment of a limited nuclear option is increasing if Moscow qualifies NATO’s growing involvement as threatening to its existence and territorial integrity. At a certain point, transfers of advanced intelligence, command and control, and standoff fire capabilities may enable the Ukrainian forces to employ sophisticated reconnaissance-strike complexes. This could lead to instances of local superiority over the Russian forces. If the effect of such tactical superiorities translates into operational-level achievements, Moscow may find itself in a daunting strategic situation in Ukraine. Russian doctrine would qualify such a scenario as a transition from local conflict to regional war. Other potential triggers include unbearable costs of the conflict, Ukrainian strikes into Russian territory or an unstoppable offensive into Donbas or Crimea, and a desire to terminate the war by having Ukraine surrender unconditionally.
The more daunting the Kremlin considers the situation in the front to be—that its nonnuclear escalations arsenal has been exhausted, and its nuclear rhetoric is futile—the higher the probability to escalate non-conventionally. As of this writing, we have not yet reached this phase. By the end of winter 2023, the Kremlin apparently estimated it has enough military and nonmilitary means of escalation (energy and food leverages, chemical weapons, cyber, strategic operations against critical infrastructure, besides the ongoing fighting fueled by mobilization). The nuclear rhetoric that accompanies the current conventional fighting—a Russian cross-domain coercion cocktail—is likely to continue. As of this writing, (2023) the Kremlin apparently estimates that its coercive rhetoric is still delivering. However, the repeated nuclear intimidations unsupported by actions may be approaching the culmination point, after which negative returns devaluate coercion credibility. If the Kremlin senses any inflation in threats, it will consider switching to nuclear muscle flexing.
This phase is likely to precede limited nuclear use. Arguably, rather than opt for a surprise attack, Moscow will progress through the muscle-flexing phase gradually, making visible “strategic gestures”—a Russian euphemism for coercive signaling aimed at deterring and compelling. The “gestures”—various demonstrative activities with strategic and nonstrategic nuclear arsenals—should communicate credible capabilities and resolve to climb the escalation ladder. The aim will be the same as that of the nuclear rhetoric today—to coerce the U.S. to compel Kyiv to negotiate and accept a cease-fire, and to deter NATO from further support of Ukraine. It could also be a war-termination mechanism.
Activities may include elevation of alert levels as close as possible to full readiness. In the strategic triad, this may include increased numbers of ground, naval, and air patrols away from the bases. In the nonstrategic nuclear weapons (NSNW), it may include transport of nuclear containers from central storage closer to the means of delivery. The transport teams may stay next to the delivery platforms, just a few steps away from turning over the armed weapons to the operators from the “conventional” forces. These “gestures” will be decisive enough to communicate credibility, but slow enough to allow the West to take notice of them, digest the information, and adjust accordingly. The Kremlin is unlikely to skip up the escalation stairs, but will advance through this phase incrementally to generate maximum effectiveness. This phase can last for weeks.
Indications of this phase will be twofold. First will be unusual, dangerous, and escalatory shifts in the deployment posture of strategic and nonstrategic platforms. Another indicator will be a deviation in the rhetoric: no longer hints and figures of speech from politicians or propagandists, but concrete announcements by the military brass about elevation of the alert level in the nuclear C2 and forces, and an outline of expectations from the adversaries. This modus operandi will resemble Moscow’s coercion on the eve of the war, when in parallel with the ultimatum to Ukraine the Kremlin also engaged in conventional muscle flexing.
Moscow cannot sustain this phase for too long. (This is another similarity to its prewar coercion by concentration of forces.) The Kremlin will wait and see whether the signal has achieved any effect before climbing the next rung of the ladder. A nuclear test followed by limited use is the watershed. The latter, even if conducted on the battlefield, will still be driven by the coercion logic of escalation for the sake of de-escalation, not by pursuit of a functional operational effect. The eventuality of limited nuclear use cannot be ruled out. However, the Kremlin will do everything possible, including prolonging the nuclear muscle-flexing phase to the maximum, to deter and compel without actual use. As of this writing, Moscow assumes that the balance of interests is in its favor and that the West will not retaliate with nuclear weapons. Implicitly, all the rest the Kremlin can tolerate. It therefore expects the credible prospect of further escalation, which its nuclear muscle flexing will spark, to push the West to back off.
Why did the Kremlin’s pre-invasion coercion fail? Did the West miss Moscow’s signals? Did it qualify them as a bluff? Or, rather, did the West get Moscow’s communication right but decide not to back off? As of this writing, there is insufficient data to provide a categorical answer to this question. The ambiguity of the red lines has been a feature of Moscow’s approach to coercion. Prior to the war, competing schools of thought existed on this matter. Some Russia watchers have argued that Moscow’s red lines intentionally are blurred to enhance coercive power. According to this view, the aim of this stratagem is to let the enemy exaggerate the actual Russian capabilities and intentions. An alternative view argues that Moscow’s red lines are truly nonexistent, and that the Russian experts themselves are debating them. Although these questions have drawn major attention during the last decade, when the war broke out they were still unresolved. The war further underscored this conundrum.
Who crossed the culmination point of coercion in this war? Views differ. One could argue that Moscow’s coercion strategy yielded negative returns. It refocused the U.S. from China to Russia. It expanded (i.e., via requests from Finland and Sweden to join) and consolidated NATO, with the alliance demonstrating its most enhanced decision-making and decision-execution capacity ever. In Ukraine, the Kremlin’s coercion further reinforced the national identity and cemented the Western orientation. Ukraine has turned into a testing range of Western weaponry against Russia; some of the advanced and longer-range weapons that Kyiv has acquired are exactly the capabilities that the Kremlin wanted to prevent them from having. Russia has become a pariah state with the west; the implications of the sanctions are likely to be multidimensional and long-lasting, and have already produced the biggest ever social-economic risks to the regime. The invasion has discredited, perhaps even endangered, the national ideology and civil religion. Finally, already in war, the Kremlin crossed the culmination point when it did not terminate the “special military operation” once the initial plan went awry. After the first week, this war turned into an inadvertent escalation yielding negative returns.
OR: ___________
According to an alternative view, it was the West that crossed the culmination point. Among the first to promote this view were John Mearsheimer and Dimitri Simes. Their takes on the genealogy of the war are indicative. According to this view, the Western policies toward Moscow since the late 1990s, instead of producing the desired behavior (e.g., holding aggression in check or restraining an opponent), it provoked escalation. It was the Western indifference to Russia’s repeated calls over the years, climaxing in the ultimatum of late 2021, that led to this war. That attitude incited the Kremlin to preempt rather than back down. Prior to the war the Kremlin already saw the regime in Kyiv as a Western geopolitical proxy.
Within this broad framework, it is not unconceivable that Putin indeed considered Western military aggression against Russia to be inevitable or imminent, and therefore decided to preempt. Washington was cognizant of that view. It estimated the risk of invasion as high, and apparently tried to deter (bluff) Moscow from taking this step. It revealed intelligence about the Russian preparations to delegitimize the move, and possibly to dissuade the Kremlin from making it. The prewar threat of sanctions (which in the end turned out to be more forceful that either Western capitals or Moscow apparently expected) turned out to be too vague to deter the Kremlin. According to this view, Washington indeed may have aimed to prevent the war, (or to occupy the Black Sea), but it was the lack of response to the ultimatum that provoked the invasion. Moscow, according to this interpretation, felt that the West again simply ignores Russian interests altogether, and apparently took Washington’s strategy of deterrence for intimidation and compellence, and as a harbinger of the forthcoming escalation.
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