On 24 February 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine in an escalation of the War that began in 2014. Two years on, Russia’s motivations for launching the largest military campaign in Europe since the Second World War remain fiercely debated. In this piece, John Fee examines an assortment of leading perspectives, including official and academic viewpoints, to determine what conclusions might be drawn.
Introduction: why does it matter to understand Putin’s motives?
In December 2023, U.S. President Joe Biden issued a stark warning: should Putin succeed in Ukraine, he is likely to “keep going”, potentially resulting in a direct confrontation between Russian and NATO—a scenario Russian President Vladimir Putin officially rejects. Echoing Biden’s foreboding on the possibility of Russia opening a new Western front in the coming years are officials from Belgium, Denmark, Estonia, Germany, Romania, and Sweden. Gauging the legitimacy of such claims is a daunting task that will increasingly fall upon security professionals, situated both in the public and private sector, with considerable stakes surrounding their conclusions.
From a national security perspective, how serious is a Russian military threat beyond Ukraine and how much national treasure should be committed to preparing for it? From an enterprise point of view, should one’s business be investing in costly infrastructure throughout territories that are likely to be subject to future military action? What is more, the war in Ukraine has shown there are a whole host of second and third order consequences that will follow great power military interventions—from global food insecurity, mass migration, and rising energy prices, to name a few. For those bearing the weight of tackling such questions, it’s likely that their view is significantly shaped by their assumptions regarding the motivations underpinning Russia’s military operations in Ukraine. Hence, to examine the matter of Putin’s motives is of vital importance to preparing one’s analytical foundations for the task ahead.
Liddell Hart, a distinguished British strategist, once emphasised the need to understand opposing viewpoints on matters of grand strategy and military affairs, or “the other side of the hill.” To this end, this article examines a select range of viewpoints on Putin’s motivation for escalating military action against Ukraine on 24 February with the aim of assessing their relative worth. It is my aim to analyse Putin’s motivations without moral judgment, presenting them as I perceive them to be, rather than how I might wish them to be. Furthermore, it should go without saying that this article will fall short of capturing the sum total of available opinions on this matter. So, in acknowledgement of this limitation, I have narrowed my analysis to the four most common themes I have encountered in the realm of public opinion on Putin’s assumed motives for supporting military action in Ukraine, each examined through the perspective of a notable advocate:
- Vladimir Putin: Russian Official Position
- Serhii Plokhy: Imperial Russia & Tsar Putin
- John Mearsheimer: NATO Expansion & Offensive Realism
- Mike McFaul: Democratic Expansion & Regime Threat
I will structure each perspective in two parts: (1) to fairly represent each argument from its respective vantage point; and (2) to respond to each argument with my own views. Finally, I will synthesise my remarks to form a summary for better understanding Putin’s motive in attacking Ukraine.
1. Vladimir Putin: Russian Official Position
Understanding the why behind any act arguably warrants starting at the source, and in the case of the war in Ukraine, that source is the President of Russia, Vladimir Putin. Central to this examination is the Russian President’s televised speech on that pivotal day in February 2022, providing what is arguably the most lucid exposition of Putin’s casus belli for authorising military action in Ukraine.
Central to Putin’s justification to invade Ukraine, and subsequently echoed by Russia’s official communication channels, was the need to pre-emptively deny further NATO eastward expansion and the advance of its military infrastructure ever closer to Russia’s borders. What is notable here, is that Putin portrays the primary opponent of this clash as the U.S. and its allies, rather than Ukraine—portrayed as a mere entity “controlled from the outside”. From a legal point of view, The UN Charter’s Article 51 self-defence provision forms the bedrock of Putin’s rationale for justifying military action to push back against NATO encroachment—as echoed by Russia’s UN representative.
According to Putin, the U.S. holds a contemptuous and disdainful attitude toward Russian strategic interests, a matter upon which the President signals a strong sense of injustice. Putin reflects upon a brief spell of Russian “paralysis of power and will” following the disintegration of the Soviet Union in the 1990s, which almost brought Russia to its end, following alleged Western efforts to “put the final squeeze on us, finish us off, and utterly destroy us”—teaching Putin a valuable lesson in the required conduct of state survival. This sense of injustice compels Putin to denounce the effectiveness of the “old treaties and agreements”, stressing how the U.S. simply leans on international law as the “ultimate truth” when it proves useful to impose on others, and disregards it when it doesn’t.
To illustrate the security threat NATO poses to Russia, Putin cites historic NATO military activity against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, Iraq, Libya, and Syria, all of which, he adds, violated international law. Crucially, at the heart of Putin’s pushback against the alliance, lies not in his opposition to NATO in and of itself, which he characterises as a mere “tool of U.S. foreign policy“, but rather, Putin focuses on how the alliance facilitated the creation of an “anti-Russia” on its historic territory—referring to Ukraine. It was the creation of this particular entity within historic lands, demonstrably hostile to Russia, and increasingly securing advanced weaponry from NATO, which he claims led to the conditions to authorise military action.
Putin ties this all together as a clash against U.S. foreign policy, accusing the West of actively seeking to contain Russia and crossing a “red line” which Moscow must confront. Articulating his aversion to U.S. foreign policy in more detail, Putin cites American historic support of separatism in Russia and aggressive efforts to impose pervasive values upon it. Putin highlights his attempts to reconcile security anxieties with the U.S. and its NATO allies, notably, the two failed proposals put forward in December 2021 to reach an agreement on the key principles of Europe’s security architecture. Through such efforts, Putin sought to formalise distinct spheres of influence in the region—demanding a halt to NATO’s eastward expansion, the removal of NATO military forces from all states who joined after 1997, and a ban on any activities either party considered detrimental to their security. The U.S. and its NATO allies in January 2022 both formally rejected Russia’s proposal on the basis of maintaining the “right to choose” principle, with respect to Ukraine’s sovereign right to determine its own security arrangements and alliances.
As if trading a map of Europe for a military map of Eastern Ukraine, Putin’s justification narrows onto accusations of genocide by “neo-Nazis” against the Russian-speaking population in Donbas. Here, Putin expresses his determination to answer the call to protect Russian-backed separatists in the territories of Donetsk and Luhansk—acknowledged as independent regions by Putin just one day prior. It’s notable that Putin highlights how the people’s republics of Donbas turned to Russia with a request for help, further justifying Russia’s military intervention under Article 51 of the UN Charter and under the newly minted treaties of friendship and mutual assistance with Russian-backed separatists.
Lastly, Putin shifts his focus to an immediate military threat to Russia posed by “far-right nationalists” in Ukraine—led by a hostile regime in Kyiv and backed by NATO. He asserts ethnic Russians in the Donbas region have faced genocide at the hands of this Kyiv regime. To justify the timing of his actions, Putin claims Kyiv was poised to attack Crimea and Donbas, drawing chilling parallels between potential Ukrainian war crimes and Nazi atrocities during the Second World War. Putin further notes Kyiv’s aspiration for nuclear weapons—a red line for Russia. In closing his portrayal of the enemy, Putin outlines his aim to use Russia’s armed forces to “demilitarize and denazify Ukraine” to safeguard the people of Donbas and prosecute those responsible for numerous bloody crimes against civilians, including Russian Federation citizens. In this military operation, Putin notes Russia has no intent to occupy Ukrainian territory or impose anything on anyone by force, but rather, seeks to facilitate the struggle for self-determination.
1. Remarks
Naturally, in times of war, one should exercise great caution in assessing a belligerent leader’s public communication, for it’s likely to contain a blend of truth and falsehood. This is because an announcement of military action is an opportune moment to serve numerous ends—from rallying public support, demoralising one’s adversary, influencing global public opinion, and projecting deep-seated grievances. Putin presents multiple justifications for the invasion of Ukraine, which each appear to carefully serve its own distinct purpose.
Arguably, one of the strongest signals Putin wishes to convey is his devotion to deny further NATO eastward expansion and the advance of its military infrastructure towards Russia’s borders—given its sequence and distinction within his speech. Putin emphases’ his grievance is not with the alliance itself—which he views as a tool of U.S. foreign policy—rather, emphasis is placed on NATO activity in Ukraine and the facilitation of cutting-edge weapons.
Russia’s official opposition toward the eastward enlargement of NATO is a long-standing and well-documented position, as depicted in Russia’s 2010 and 2014 Military Doctrines as an existential security threat. Against this background, Ukraine’s assimilation into NATO constitutes a credible security threat from Moscow’s perspective. Even before tensions escalated in Ukraine, Putin in 2008 reportedly made his red lines on the matter clear to U.S. President George W. Bush during a closed meeting of the Russia-NATO council, warning that Ukraine would “simply cease to exist” should it be accepted into NATO. While some observers claim Russia’s security concerns were deceitful means to hide Putin’s true aim of imperial expansion, such interpretations don’t hold up to the historic record. In actual fact, there is a consistent multi-decade anthology of Russian political signals available to dispel such a view:
Russia will vigorously oppose any attempts to increase the politico-military presence of third countries in the states adjoining Russia.
Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation, April 1993
I cannot help but express our uneasiness as well over the fact that the discussion of how NATO might evolve is centering with increasing frequency on the scenario of quantitative expansion of the alliance by adding East European countries.
Retranslation of Yeltsin’s letter to Clinton on NATO expansion, September 1993
We stated and still state that Russia is against the expansion of NATO, but considering some historical and world realities, the menace of the expansion of the bloc to our country must be brought to a minimum or excluded altogether.
Yeltsin, television interview, May 1997
Our position with regard to the NATO enlargement is known in principle and there is no change to this position. […] Some new members will be adopted into that organisation. Whose security will that action enhance? Which country of Europe and citizens of which country of the world would feel more secure? If you go to Paris or Berlin and ask a person in the street whether he or she would feel more secure after the expansion of NATO, enlargement of NATO and whether that person from the street would feel secure against the threat of terrorism – the answer most probably would be no. I think we should abandon this logic under which every time the subject matter of NATO enlargement is discussed it creates some kind of destructive, rather than, productive argument.
President Putin, Meeting with NATO Secretary General, Lord Robertson, October 2001
Russia’s position toward the enlargement of NATO is well known and has not changed.
President Putin, television appearance with Mr. de Joop Scheffer, April 2004
I think it is obvious that NATO expansion does not have any relation with the modernisation of the Alliance itself or with ensuring security in Europe. On the contrary, it represents a serious provocation that reduces the level of mutual trust. And we have the right to ask: against whom is this expansion intended?
President Putin, Speech at the Munich Security Conference, February 2007
Georgia’s and Ukraine’s membership in the alliance is a huge strategic mistake which would have most serious consequences for pan-European security.
Russian Deputy Foreign Minister, Alexander Grushko, April 2008
NATO expansion does not create a situation of equal security for all; instead, there is a conflict of interest in Europe between countries that are NATO members and those which are not. […] In short, what we want is a partnership. In other words, we don’t want NATO imposing its interests and we want the interests of Russia to be carefully considered and taken into account
Russian Ambassador to Bosnia and Herzegovina, Botsan-Kharchenko, July 2008
A key counterargument to this view points out several positive signals from Moscow in the 2000s, especially from Putin, which purportedly undermines the legitimacy of Russia’s apprehensions about NATO. I will explore this perspective further in the forthcoming discussion, drawing specifically on the expertise of Mike McFaul, a U.S. academic and former diplomat known for advocating this particular position.
A more recent retort to Putin’s alleged security concerns is the supposed contrasting lack of concern shown by Russia towards Finland joining NATO in 2023. If Putin was sincere, the argument goes, he “could have attempted to derail Finland’s membership bid via a combination of diplomatic and military pressure.” A careless take in my view, especially when considering Russia’s diminished means of influence and coercion—not to mention the various acts Russia has nonetheless undertaken to exert pressure on Finland. The challenge Russia faces in deterring further expansion of NATO stems from its prolonged military engagement in Ukraine, an operation initially and mistakenly expected to yield a quick and conclusive victory. Coupled with its diminished military capabilities is the Kremlin’s probable reluctance to directly challenge the military determination of the West whilst it remains weakened—a judgment it has, by all accounts, already misjudged. The existence of nuclear weapons, naturally, imposes a strong degree of caution on escalation. In short, Russia is deterred. In the forthcoming discussion, I will delve deeper into this issue, as I examine arguments both for and against this perspective.
On the matter of Putin’s accusations of genocide in the Donbas region and threats posted by “far-right nationalists” in Ukraine, these accusations are notably lacking in credibility. Since beginning its work in Ukraine in 2014, an OSCE monitoring mission found no signs of widespread, intentional killings of civilians in the Donbas. Subsequent investigations have been unable to validate claims that Russian-speaking or ethnic Russian individuals in eastern Ukraine enduring genocide at the hands of Ukrainian authorities, as corroborated in reports from the Council of Europe and the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. However, Ukraine’s 2014 armed conflict with Russian-backed separatists in the Donbas region did see the United Nations accuse both sides of human rights violations. Among the reported abuses were torture and sexual assault of prisoners, particularly noted in the conflict’s early stages.
And, in an allegation of existential significance, Putin alleges that Kyiv harbours ambitions to acquire nuclear weapons. It is accurate to state that Ukraine has raised concerns regarding its obligation to maintain its non-nuclear status, in light of Russia’s violation of the security assurances provided to Ukraine under the 1994 Budapest Memorandum. This agreement outlined the conditions under which Ukraine agreed to relinquish the nuclear arsenal it acquired following the dissolution of the Soviet Union. In two speeches of note at the Munich Security Conference, one in 2020 and one on the eve on the invasion in 2022, Zelensky argued, the decisions of 1994, including Ukraine’s non-nuclear status, were in doubt. But a flurry of unsubstantiated and intentionally misleading allegations surrounding CBRN threats, are the only thing we’ve ever seen Russia produce in terms of ‘evidence’—so there is little more to say on this.
Such discrepancies in Putin’s alleged transgressions and the negligible supporting evidence suggests such narratives serve as enemy imagery—a means to psychologically motivate Russians to tolerate and support mass scale violence against Ukraine. The CEIP has explored how post-Soviet nations have historically wielded the term “genocide” as a shorthand for anything considered “absolute evil” to galvanise national efforts against perceived wrongs. Consequentially, allegations of genocide have evolved to serve as a dialect of dispute in the post-Soviet landscape.
Finally, at the heart of Putin’s antagonism lies a notable emphasis on the U.S. and its Western allies, rather than Ukraine itself. This focused hostility is largely driven by a perspective common among Russian leadership, which regards the U.S.-led international order as the primary challenge to the Kremlin’s core interests, particularly in its perceived sphere of influence. In this view, Russian officials perceive the prevailing global order as one characterised by U.S. dominance. They interpret the expansion of U.S. power as being facilitated by efforts to overthrow existing regimes and a superficial endorsement of liberal democracy. Putin’s belief that the U.S. conspired to dismantle Russia after the Soviet Union’s collapse is a testament to this. He also seems to disdain the legal order established by the U.S., particularly America’s tendency to discard the law when strategic interests are at stake. He underscores this argument by pointing to multiple historical examples of NATO military interventions which breached international law, questioning the efficacy of “old treaties and agreements.” By endorsing illegal military action in Ukraine, seemingly unconcerned with the parallel transgression of international law he has long attributed to NATO, Putin appears willingly detached from adherence to international law in its present form—hinting at greater, yet undetermined, motives shaping his behaviour.
Perhaps the most salient aspect of Russia’s perspective on the U.S-led order is the belief that the U.S. no longer possesses the capability to pursuit a unilateral grand strategy to preserve its global hegemony—leading to the conclusion that the existing international system is untenable and ripe for contest, starting in Russia’s near abroad. Moscow’s pursuit for a sphere of influence is often marked by contempt by Western thinkers and officials alike. However, Russia understands that the U.S. used spheres of influence to great effect, before establishing its dominant position and pursuing liberal hegemony.
Some Western observers perceive Russia’s view of the West and its use to legitimise Russia’s actions in Ukraine as a sleight of hand, rather than the Kremlin’s actual perspective. To others more amenable to this view of a geopolitical contest between great powers, the U.S. is very much engaged in one of the most “ruthlessly effectively proxy wars in modern history”, enabling the West to bleed Russia without a direct clash of arms.
2. Serhii Plokhy: Imperial Russia & Tsar Putin
To represent the view that Putin’s motivations were primarily the joint result of Russian imperial and personal ambition, I have chosen renowned historian and recognised award-winning author, Serhii Plokhy—celebrated for his expertise in Ukrainian and Eastern European history. Specifically, I have chosen Plokhy’s comprehensive historic exploration of the origins of the conflict in Ukraine, as represented in The Russo-Ukrainian War.
Plokhy’s story begins with the cultural roots of the conflict, notably, Russia’s historic view of Ukraine as a fundamental part of a greater Russian nation. In contrast to the Russian perspective, Plokhy highlights a distinct Ukrainian national identity and its struggle for autonomy from Russian rule. To understand Putin’s motivations in authorising military action, Plokhy argues one must be cognisant of this deep-seated idea favoured by Russian elites—which views Ukraine as an essential component of Russia’s imperial identity—an identity deeply challenged by notions of Ukrainian nationalism. While the foundations of Orthodoxy, language, culture, and legal systems in both Russian and Ukrainian societies stem from the heritage of Kyivan Rus, this shared legacy did not imply a homogenous ethnic, linguistic, or cultural identity, nor did it suggest that Moscow was the supreme authority. Ukraine, serving as a pivotal crossroads between Europe and Eurasia and lacking distinct geographical boundaries, has historically been a meeting point—and often a battleground—for various empires, ranging from the Roman to the Ottoman, the Hapsburg to the Romanov, and extending from Nazi to Soviet dominions. In the midst of these conflicts, nationalism emerged as a key element, epitomised by Cossack uprisings and the nationalist movements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. National identity, language, ethnicity, and culture often became strategic assets in the struggle for power, manipulated by both imperial forces and their adversaries.
Illustrating the cultural contours further, Plokhy introduces us to the Ukraine that emerged onto the world scene in 1991—independent but divided—with its eastern and southern regions strongly aligned with Russia, both culturally and politically, while its western regions favoured pursuit of its own national identity and independence from Russia. Plokhy notes Russia’s immediate post-independence demands on Ukraine, particularly regarding Crimea’s status and Russia’s insistence of allegiance to Moscow, set the stage for sustained tension and territorial dispute between both countries.
Although vulnerable and exposed to dispute in her early years, Ukraine was born a nuclear nation, inheriting the third-largest nuclear arsenal in the world. Kyiv was reluctant to relinquish its nuclear weapons, despite a lack of operational control over the weapons, largely because of Moscow’s pressure, notably its claim to Crimea. However, the only viable way of Ukraine gaining international recognition of its independence was to give them up, which it apprehensively did. However, Ukraine insisted on robust security assurances as a precondition for its nuclear disarmament—paving the way for the 1994 Budapest Memorandum—an agreement Kyiv would later call upon to demand security assistance in anticipation of Russian military aggression.
Ukraine and Russia’s relationship was fraught with further tension following Ukraine’s 2004 Orange Revolution, as Moscow grew increasingly wary of Kyiv’s Western aspirations. What is more, Plokhy stresses the direct challenge the revolution likely posed to Putin’s regime—a thriving democracy in Ukraine not only emboldened the pro-democracy elements within Russia but also brought democratic institutions geographically nearer to Russia’s borders. According to Plokhy, this scenario was perceived by Putin as an unacceptable geopolitical shift. Confirming Moscow’s predictions, the Orange Revolution indeed led to a significant geopolitical shift in Kyiv, as Ukraine advanced towards incremental integration with Western institutions like the European Union and NATO.
Against this backdrop, and echoing the strategies of past tsars and commissars, Plokhy claims Putin was focused on establishing and preserving a ring of former Soviet buffer states to strengthen regime security and advance Russian interests. This entity, unlike a reborn Soviet Union, was to be a Eurasian union anchored in political, military, and economic cooperation. With Ukraine positioned as a fundamental pillar to this project due to its size and economic prowess. Yet, Ukraine’s move towards Western integration, especially after the Orange Revolution, disrupted Putin’s plans.
The situation, however, underwent a significant shift in 2010, as Viktor Yanukovych, a pro-Russian figure, assumed the Ukrainian presidency. Disregarding the policies of his predecessor, Yanukovych amended the constitution to revoke constraints on his presidential authority, crafting a regime with authoritarian shades. In his foreign policy stance, Yanukovych proclaimed Ukraine would set aside its ambitions to join NATO, opting instead for neutrality. The extension of Russia’s lease on the Sevastopol naval base for an additional twenty-five years stood as an indication of the new administration’s pivot from Brussels to Moscow. That being said, economic and trade relations with the European Union remained on Kyiv’s agenda. This continued until November 2013, when Yanukovych, having signalled readiness to finalise an association agreement at the Vilnius EU summit, made a sudden and unexpected retraction. Yanukovych confided to his team that his sudden change of heart came after a top-secret meeting with Putin just a few weeks earlier. Putin had allegedly stated he would not tolerate the European Union or NATO bordering Russia and warned that if Yanukovych proceeded with the EU agreement, Russia would respond by annexing Crimea and assert control over substantial areas of southeastern Ukraine, including the regions of Donbas, Kharkiv, Mykolaiv, Odesa, and Zaporizhzhia. On top of that, Putin proposed a financial incentive to discourage Ukraine from signing the EU deal, later revealed to total $15 billion. Shaken by the threat of Moscow’s stick and allured by its carrot, Yanukovych in November 2013 felt compelled to forsake the EU association agreement.
The announcement of Yanukovych’s change of heart set the stage for the Euromaidan Revolution—a public outcry against the president’s reneged commitment to European integration. The situation escalated rapidly, culminating in violent confrontations between protestors and security forces, before ending in Yanukovych going into exile, and Kyiv’s quest for European integration being revived. Putin rejected the outcome and legitimacy of Ukraine’s interim government—describing the situation as “an anti-constitutional takeover and armed seizure of power”. These developments set in motion events that would soon lead Russia to annex the Ukrainian Crimea and back armed separatists in Ukraine’s Donbas.
Dismantling a sovereign nation often requires, if not always necessitates, the presence of an alternate geopolitical vision that holds local credibility and support. So when Putin embarked on annexing Crimea, he initiated an unprecedented appeal to Russian nationalism and historical legacy. Putin appealed to historic themes of Russo-Ukrainian unity, asserting Russia’s right to reclaim Crimea to right the perceived historic injustice inflicted by the Soviet Union. What is more, Putin denounced the U.S. and the West, recounting a litany of transgressions against Russia and international law. Condemnation spanned from the bombing of Yugoslavia to invading Iraq—all portrayed as a backdrop to justify Russia’s manoeuvres in Ukraine. Furthermore, Putin vehemently condemned how Western powers exploited the ‘colour’ revolutions and the Arab Spring for their own ends.
Russia’s annexation of Crimea through military means, alongside its appeal to nationalism and historic legacy signalled a pivotal shift in Russia’s foreign policy to keep Ukraine in Moscow’s fold. However, Russia’s determination to ensure Ukraine remains within Moscow’s sphere of influence might have been the only constant in Putin’s strategy, amidst an otherwise fluid and opportunistic approach to Russia’s geopolitical manoeuvres in the lead up to 2022. Such flexible manoeuvring included diplomatic attempts to make Ukraine a federation, supporting a Novorossiya (‘New Russia’) project, authorising military action to de facto takeover the Donbas, followed by diplomatic efforts to realise the Minsk agreements. In the subsequent eight years, Russia sustained its pressure on Ukraine in the Donbas while Ukraine united to defend its sovereignty and desired Western orientation—backed by significant Western support—both in the economic and military spheres.
Meanwhile, the COVID lockdown of 2020–21 afforded Putin ample time for historic study and reflection—concluding with a long historical essay on the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians. Putin, wielding his interpretation of history, reinvigorated the idea of Russians and Ukrainians as a single people. In the words of Putin, true Ukrainian sovereignty “is possible only in partnership with Russia.” Putin’s contribution to the historical narratives of his predecessors was the notion that the West is appropriating a time-old scheme to divide and rule the Ukrainians—a notion he calls the “anti-Russia project”.
With no sign of wavering in will by either side, Russia initiated preparations in 2021 for a possible invasion of Ukraine. By December, Russian authorities presented their Western counterparts with an unexpected ultimatum—demanding a halt to further NATO expansion, military withdrawals from post-1997 member states, alongside a mutual security activity ban. The U.S. and NATO dismissed these demands, upholding Ukraine’s sovereignty and its right to self-determine its security alliances.
The die was cast for war.
2. Remarks
How well does Plokhy’s exploration of a distinct Ukrainian national identity and its quest for independence from Russian imperial ambition provide us with a reliable perspective for understanding Putin’s decision to invade Ukraine?
Ukrainian agency is defined in Plokhy’s work by its resistance to Russian imperial dominion, most notably, in decoupling from a ‘post-Soviet’ legacy in pursuit of Ukrainian independence and liberal democracy—corruption notwithstanding. What stuck out to me the most in this account, was that Ukrainians and their leaders have been dreadfully conflicted about the orientation of their own country since their independence—which has seen joint political influence efforts from both Russia and the West to shape the outcome. Consequently, the concept of agency emerges as intricate and elusive within this context. I find that Plokhy’s analysis falls short of convincingly establishing Ukrainian agency as the decisive force in influencing Russian actions. That is to say, Ukraine’s agency is to a large extent grounded in externally imposed constructs. Plokhy says as such himself. From Kyiv’s apprehension in 1994 to relinquish its nuclear weapons—to Kyiv’s decision in 2013 to revoke its commitment to European integration—the story of Ukrainian statehood has largely been defined by the actions of larger geopolitical actors, notably the U.S., the European Union, and Russia. Even today, Ukraine’s ability to defy Russian dominion is largely dependent on sustained Western economic and military support. However, even though I believe the greatest influence on determining the origins of this conflict emerged out of Moscow and Washington D.C., the ‘moral qualities’ and ‘warlike elements’ of Ukrainians and their leadership, drawing from Clausewitzian thought, has undeniably showcased Ukraine’s effectiveness in steering the direction of events. This was particularly evident in the 2022 battle for Kyiv.
My remaining take on Plokhy’s perspective is two-fold. Firstly, I contend Ukraine’s centre of political gravity has been at the mercy of U.S. and Russian geopolitical competition. Since gaining independence in 1991, Ukraine has stood politically and culturally divided, its unique demographic and geographical characteristics marking a distinct geopolitical fault line of contention in a dynamic strategic rivalry between the U.S. and Russia. This contest has ebbed and flowed, from the pro-Western tilt following the 2004 Orange Revolution to a pronounced pivot eastward as Russia re-established its influence after Yanukovych’s 2013 backtrack on European integration. But what drove Putin’s decision to resort to force in Ukraine? Decisions to employ military might typically hinge on a cost-benefit analysis—if the perceived costs are too steep, military action is usually avoided. Yet, with the U.S. and Russia each determined to steer Kyiv’s political future, this contest of irreconcilable goals and unyielding will would eventually culminate in 2014 when Yanukovych was forced into exile by democratic forces. Moscow realised Kyiv’s orientation was rapidly slipping away and its non-lethal political instruments were futile to prevent it, marking a continuation of politics by other means. Initially, Russian warfare was limited, likely shaped by considerations such as U.S. deterrence, the international environment, the pre-war relationship with Ukraine, and expectations that annexing Crimea and backing separatist movements would afford new bargaining opportunities to leverage. These actions indeed afforded Moscow new opportunities to employ a range of non-lethal tactics to reorient Kyiv’s political trajectory, including diplomatic efforts to federalize Ukraine, implement the Minsk agreements to stabilise the region under terms favourable to Moscow, and formalise distinct spheres of influence in the region. Nevertheless, despite sustained Russian pressure on Ukraine, Kyiv was undeterred in its Western ambitions—bolstered in its convictions by political, economic, and military support from the West. Consequentially, Moscow was unable to achieve its objectives. However, equally resolute in his aims, Putin determined expeditious regime change by military force was an acceptable escalation to pursuit.
Second of all, Plokhy’s work stresses the role of ideology in Russia’s political culture—beliefs that are central to Putin’s strategy to fold Ukraine into Moscow’s sphere of influence. Fundamental to Putin’s ideology is an imperial vision of an all-Russian nation, a Pan-Russian project that stresses both a cultural and, to some extent, racial uniqueness to the Russian identity. Notably, Putin’s conviction that Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians are one people, echoing his previously reported assertion to U.S. President George W. Bush that “Ukraine is not even a state”. Pertaining to this ideology, Russia’s promotion of its Novorossiya (‘New Russia’) idea appears to serve both as a tool for consolidation of Russian power and as a foreign policy instrument to undermine the influence of liberal democracy in its perceived sphere of influence. Yet, the degree to which these notions genuinely precede and influence Putin’s thinking or are merely exploited to advance the Kremlin’s geopolitical goals and Putin’s personal power remain open questions in my view. On the latter point, Plokhy acknowledges the direct threat that liberal democratic forces posed to Putin’s regime. Particularity, its growing influence and proximity to Russia’s borders, emboldening pro-democracy elements inside Russia. Regarding the former point, for now, I believe the evidence demonstrates how the Kremlin intensified its ideological push in response to what it perceived as external and internal threats to Putin’s regime—notably, the colour revolutions, anti-government rallies across Russia, and the fall of Yanukovych.
3. John Mearsheimer: NATO Expansion & Offensive Realism
To represent the view that Putin’s motivations were primarily the result of NATO expansion and the resulting security dilemma this posed for Russia, I have chosen to examine the works of John Mearsheimer, an American political scientist at the University of Chicago and renowned realist scholar. Mearsheimer’s views on Russia’s motivations for undertaking military action in Ukraine hold a unique position within this examination, as I attempt to consolidate decades of his academic examination on the subject of Ukraine to adequately represent his view on Putin’s motivations for invading Ukraine.
One must arguably begin in 1993, when Mearsheimer first took stock of Ukraine’s security predicament in Foreign Affairs Magazine. His article, the Case for a Ukrainian Nuclear Deterrent, outlined Mearsheimer’s case for why he felt a Russian-Ukrainian conflict was a growing threat in the post–Cold War era, notably, the dangers of hyper-nationalism, the contentious legitimacy of Ukraine as a sovereign state, and the precarious situation created by mixed populations, which held the explosive potential to exacerbate tensions.
“The likely result of that war—Russia’s reconquest of Ukraine—would injure prospects for peace throughout Europe. It would increase the danger of a Russian-German collision, and sharply intensify the security competition across the continent. A conventional war between Russia and Ukraine would entail vast military casualties and the possible murder of many thousands of civilians. Russians and Ukrainians have a history of mutual enmity; this hostility, combined with the intermixing of their populations, raises the possibility that war between them could entail Bosnian style ethnic cleansing and mass murder. This war could produce millions of refugees clamouring at the borders of Western Europe.” – John Mearsheimer, Summer 1993.
To prevent such a war, Mearsheimer believed the U.S. should have discreetly supported Ukraine in keeping its nuclear weapons as a deterrent. This was not to be. Washington, Kyiv, and Moscow in 1994 reached an agreement on the conditions of Ukraine’s denuclearisation.
Mearsheimer’s sequel to assessing Ukraine’s evolving security predicament came in the aftermath of Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea, in his Foreign Affairs article, Why the Ukraine Crisis Is the West’s Fault. Mearsheimer argued that the West’s enduring trio of foreign policy initiatives—NATO enlargement, European Union expansion, and democracy promotion—all served as kindling for a crisis poised to erupt in Ukraine. The moment of ignition occurred in November 2013, when Ukraine’s pro-Russian President Yanukovych chose to reject a significant economic agreement with the EU in favour of a $15 billion offer from Russia, triggering the Euromaidan Revolution. This choice sparked anti-government protests that intensified over the next three months, culminating in Yanukovych fleeing Ukraine and giving rise to a new, unelected pro-Western and anti-Russian government in Kyiv.
Against this backdrop, Mearsheimer sheds light on the West’s influence upon the state of play, notably Washington’s support of anti-Government protests, political tampering, funding of pro-Western individuals and organisations, and EU integration efforts. When Russian officials observe the influence of Western activities in Ukraine, they are concerned that Russia will be next. These apprehensions are not without merit. The sum of the West’s actions, Mearsheimer argues, constituted a joint strategic effort to move Ukraine out of Russia’s orbit to integrate it into the Western fold—a play Russia emphatically and repeatedly warned it will oppose.
And, as expected, such an eventuality unfolded accordingly. For Putin, the moment had come to take measures against Ukraine and the West. Hence, from this viewpoint, Putin’s annexation of Crimea and covert military support for separatists in Eastern Ukraine are perceived as retaliatory defensive responses to the ousting of Yanukovych and the West’s unrelenting geopolitical pressure.
Looking beyond 2014, Mearsheimer issued a cautionary note, advising the West to abort its efforts to turn “Ukraine into a Western stronghold on Russia’s border”, forewarning that such an effort would end up with Ukraine getting “wrecked”. Expanding on this position further in his 2018 book The Great Delusion: Liberal Dreams and International Realities, Mearsheimer outlines this approach as an elite-driven U.S. foreign policy in pursuit of ‘liberal hegemony’—an endeavour to increase liberal democracies worldwide, while also fostering an open global economy and establishing international institutions. Western liberal elites are incentivised to pursue liberal hegemony owing to its associated attractive career opportunities and the conviction they have the know-how to realise the aforementioned goals—which they believe will promote international peace. However, from Putin’s vantage point, Mearsheimer argues the pursuit of liberal hegemony by Western liberal elites presents a direct threat to Russia’s survival, motivating Putin to go to enormous lengths to prevent Ukraine from joining the West.
3. Remarks
I would likely to first acknowledge that I have found Mearsheimer’s realist perspective on Ukraine to have demonstrated considerable predictive power. Now, some may invoke analogies of broken clocks being right twice a day—or point me to the merits of Plokhy’s imperial perspective outlined above to demonstrate Mearsheimer’s omission of culture and ideas. To this, I would willingly acknowledge the point. But in the words of American political scientist Samuel Huntington, “to think seriously about the world, and to act effectively in it, some sort of simplified map of reality, some theory, some model, paradigm, is necessary.” Mearsheimer’s simplified map of Ukraine’s security predicament has proven to be rather informative in this regard, revealing the approximate contours of Russian security anxieties over the years and reliably forecasting the resulting storms stirred by warm westerly winds meeting cold eastwardly ones.
Despite Mearsheimer’s prescient portrayal of Ukraine’s security predicament, his account remains extensively criticised. Some critics have accused Mearsheimer of stripping Ukraine’s agency from his analysis. Valid points given the theory’s emphasis on certain factors at the omission of others, which Mearsheimer openly accepts will give rise to occasional anomalies in one’s interpretation of world affairs—the price to pay, he argues, to make sense of the complex world around us.
But how well does Mearsheimer’s theory perform in shedding light on Putin’s motives to invade Ukraine? In summary, Mearsheimer’s account depicts years of unwavering Russian resistance to growing NATO and EU eastward expansion—policies championed by the West on the basis of the “right to choose” principle with the aim of advancing liberal hegemony—compelling Putin to act to defend Moscow’s strategic interests. Central to this view, Mearsheimer advances the primacy of great-power politics in Putin’s thinking over abstract legal notions such as self-determination. Weaker states who disregard this timeless lesson, he argues, do so at their peril.
When you’re a country like Ukraine and you live next door to a great power like Russia, you have to pay careful attention to what the Russians think, because if you take a stick and you poke them in the eye, they’re going to retaliate.
John Mearsheimer, Interview with the New Yorker, March 2022
The notion of stick poking is anchored in Mearsheimer’s theory of ‘offensive realism’, which provides a framework to justify a defensive rationale for Russia’s conduct in Ukraine over the previous decade—based on a set of foundational beliefs about the nature of the international system. Six pivotal principles emerge from this theory as particularly pertinent to understanding Putin’s motivations:
- The overriding goal of a state is to maximise its share of world power.
- NATO is a military alliance led by the U.S.—a great power possessing the largest and the most advanced military in the world—who seeks to maintain its dominant position in the international system.
- NATO possesses the world’s most sophisticated array of offensive military capabilities, capable of inflicting harm and eradicating rival states.
- Despite numerous assurances from the U.S. and NATO members that the alliance’s military capability is not intended to be used against Russia, offensive realism stresses that no state can ever be certain of the intentions of the other side.
- States operate within an anarchic international system, whereby the state has no higher authority it can turn to in the event of being attacked. Therefore, fear of external military alliances is a central aspect of international affairs—increasingly so, when an alliance expands into the vicinity of another great power, like it has in Russia’s case.
- Great powers are exceptionally attentive to their security situation, and when they feel threatened, they inevitably take measures to protect themselves.
Looking closely at Mearsheimer’s opinions on Ukraine, I find myself questioning the logic of blaming the West and the supposed cause-and-effect relationship he presents. To be clear, the issue for me here revolves around the concept of ‘blaming’ anyone, in an intellectual endeavour that’s allegedly unconcerned with the rightness or wrongness of the situation. Since it assumes some neutral starting point, free of blame, until a certain foreign policy came along and triggered a chain reaction which led to the war in Ukraine. The first domino in Mearsheimer’s domino run is the West’s pursuit of liberal hegemony in Ukraine. If only the U.S. removed this faulty domino, his argument goes, such an atrocity could have been averted. But could I not just as easily place Putin’s centralisation of power and pursuit of authoritarian governance as the first domino instead? One that equally, if removed, prevents the chain of events leading to war? Perhaps that’s a long-winded way of saying the act of choosing a singular root cause appears flawed in this context, when one can identify two distinct political centres competing with one another, both projecting their influence far and beyond their own borders.
Ultimately, in a situation where two states have irreconcilable political goals and the determination and ability to persist in realising them, blaming becomes moot—we are simply witnessing a trajectory toward inevitable confrontation.
An additional critique I have centres on Mearsheimer’s analysis of Western elite-driven influence on the war in Ukraine, notably, the personal incentives they have to pursue liberal hegemony. Where is the equivalent examination of the forces motivating authoritarian leaders such as Putin? Notably, regime security and personal wealth accumulation? Mearsheimer’s argument emphasises the West’s attempts at social engineering in Ukraine to further liberal foreign policy objectives. However, he seems to overlook Putin’s comparable engineering efforts in pursuit of his own ends. Ignoring this aspect unfairly tips the scales in favour of portraying Russia’s actions as purely defensive. The Kremlin is equally advancing its own political project in and beyond its borders—with illiberal authoritarian governance at its core. Consequently, this context allows for a reasoned defence of the West’s, and specifically Ukraine’s efforts to ward off these authoritarian influences.
In concluding my remarks, it’s important to highlight that, despite the critiques previously mentioned, Mearsheimer’s theory offers a compelling explanation for understanding the security challenges Russia has faced over the years. Even with my doubts on the specified cause-and-effect relationships, and the vagueness regarding the exact nature of the threat—be it NATO’s expansion posing a military risk to Russia, or Putin’s personal apprehension of the spread of liberal movements threatening his regime, of which NATO’s role is implicated—these issues do not detract from the accuracy of Mearsheimer’s predictions. His insights have proven invaluable in foreseeing how immovable, opposing geopolitical forces would evidentially continue their contest in the military arena.
4. Mike McFaul: Democratic Expansion & Regime Threat
Mike McFaul, an American political scientist at the Stanford University and former U.S. Ambassador to Russia from 2012-2014, delivered a compelling lecture in October 2022 at Stanford University explaining the causes of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. In his lecture, McFaul presents three core arguments for explaining why Putin decided to invade Ukraine.
1. Power Politics
McFaul grounds his argument in the critical role of the balance of power in international politics, positing that Russia’s post-Soviet resurgence has restored it to the ranks of the great powers, and with it, the assertive behaviour expected of one—which is to challenge the existing order and maximise its own security and influence. However, in only looking at the distribution of power, such a vantage point will overlook an array of important variables which are crucial to understanding why Russia has taken its actions against Ukraine, particularly, why Russia choose the moment it did to invade Ukraine.
2. NATO Expansion
Next, McFaul addresses Russia’s primary justification for military action in Ukraine—NATO eastward expansion. In 1997, the balance of power in Europe underwent a significant shift as NATO expanded eastward, incorporating former Warsaw Pact members: Hungary, Poland, and the Czech Republic into the military alliance. This eastward trend strengthened in 2004 with the accession of Bulgaria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovakia and Slovenia into the alliance’s ranks. By 2008, at the NATO summit in Romania, the alliance welcomed Georgia and Ukraine’s ambitions for membership, following fulfilment of necessary reforms. Notably here, NATO’s summit communiqué, asserted that Ukraine “will become” a NATO member without specifying a timeline or offering a Membership Action Plan.
For McFaul, NATO’s expansion represents a nuanced interplay between Russia and the U.S., marked by fluctuations, rather than a straightforward trajectory of increasing pressure resulting from NATO’s eastward expansion. To support this hypothesis, McFaul provides several examples of Russian correspondence, which suggests the Kremlin hasn’t consistently held an adverse view toward NATO:
[On whether Russia should join NATO] “why not… Russia is a part of European culture, and I cannot imagine my own country existing apart from Europe, apart from the so called, as we often say ‘civilised world… it is harmful for Russia to regard NATO as an enemy” – President Putin, 5 March, 2000
“I am absolutely convinced that Ukraine will not shy away from the processes of expanding interaction with NATO and the Western allies as a whole. Ukraine has its own relations with NATO; there is the Ukraine-NATO Council. At the end of the day the decision is to be taken by NATO and Ukraine. It is a matter for those two partners” – President Putin, 17 May, 2002.
“The period of distance in our relations and claims against each other is over now. We view the future with optimism and will work on developing relations between Russia and NATO in all areas…” – President Dmitry Medvedev, 20 November, 2010.
McFaul, who was present for all but one of the meetings between President Obama and President Putin/Medvedev, says he couldn’t “recall once that the issue of NATO expansion came up” during any of the exchanges. Moreover, McFaul contends that, on the brink of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, there was a noticeable absence of Western determination to facilitate Ukraine’s NATO accession—dependent on unanimous alliance consent. Lastly, McFaul maintains that NATO has never sought, nor currently seeks, a military confrontation with Russia.
3. Russian Domestic Politics
Finally, McFaul delves into the most critical factor for understanding Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the underlying dynamics of Russia’s domestic political scene. Notably, Putin’s aversion to democracy and the direct threat it posed to his regime. Overtime, Putin used his time in office to roll back checks on his power, strengthening Russia’s autocratic system. Consequentially, this strengthening of autocratic governance led to increased tensions with the democratic West.
Starting in 2003, just a few years after Putin became President, he would witness first-hand a series of democratic movements in neighbouring Georgia, and then one year later in Ukraine. The significance of these colour revolutions for Putin was the rapid transition to pro-Western regimes from pro-Russian regimes in Russia’s near abroad, through perceived U.S. inspired regime change. Then, in 2011, Putin would witness the Arab Spring—a series of pro-democracy protests and uprisings across the Middle East and North Africa, which resulted in the collapse of numerous dictators—often with brutal ends. Several accounts claim Putin repeatedly watched the gruesome footage of Gaddafi’s capture and brutal killing, which made him “apoplectic”. In Putin’s mind, McFaul claims, the U.S. was actively involved in the Arab Spring through actively fomenting regime change. Then, just a couple of months later, Putin witnessed the largest protests in Russia since the collapse of the Soviet Union—spurred by widespread public allegations of election fraud. It was this moment, according to McFaul, which exacerbated Putin’s paranoia about the threat posed by Democratic movements—leading the Kremlin to adopt a strategy to strengthen Putin’s legitimacy and control. One key aspect of Putin’s strategy to discredit domestic opposition forces in Russia, was developing a narrative that democratic movements had to be of foreign design, notably, of U.S. foreign influence, rather than from legitimate domestic grievances. McFaul himself was even accused by Russian state media in 2012 of fomenting oppositional rallies in Russia against Putin when he was US ambassador to Russia. Later, in 2014, Putin witnessed the Maidan Revolution unfold in neighbouring Ukraine—leading to the fall of Ukraine’s pro-Russian President and shifting Ukraine’s political orientation ever closer Westward in support of closer ties with the EU. Putin would go on to characterise Ukraine’s revolution as a U.S.-backed Nazi coup.
In McFaul’s view, the core conclusion one can draw from this sequence of developments is that Democratic expansion, not NATO expansion, posed the real threat to Putin’s regime.
4. Remarks
Does McFaul’s focus on the threat of democratic expansion provide a credible lens through which to understand Putin’s motivation to invade Ukraine? As authoritarian systems tighten their grip, the more the dictator’s insecurities tend to take centre stage in their priorities, which might be anything that threatens their authority and survival—and of particular note here, democratic expansion and the threat this posed to Putin’s regime. Putin’s rule of Russia has undoubtedly exposed him to a world in which third party interventions within revolutionary events is a geopolitical reality. Likewise, it’s useful to point out that while Putin sees the hand of American influence in democratic movements far and wide, Russia hasn’t always blamed the U.S. as the root cause of such upheavals, rather, it has blamed the U.S. for taking advantage of such events to shape outcomes in its favour—often to fateful ends. This may seem a trivial detail, but it allows us to see that Putin is on the record, during the Arab Spring, supporting democratic reforms resulting from the uprisings—but opposed to U.S. external influence activities seeking to shape the situation to its advantage.
Consequentially, the Orange and Euromaidan movements in Ukraine, backed by independent media, international liberal networks, and great power support, signalled the means by which Putin could see external influence shaping public opinion and political alignment in Russia’s near abroad—exacerbating fears of contagion within Russia and presenting credible security concerns for Putin facing internal pressures at home. The widespread demonstrations that erupted in late 2011 directly challenged his legitimacy, calling for a “Russia without Putin.” This pivotal moment arguably forced the Kremlin to reassess its leniency towards critical views in Russia, particularly those aligned with liberal and Western-leaning ideologies. Putin’s long-time authoritarian ally Lukashenko, in neighbouring Belarus, narrowly escaped the clutches of wide-spread democratic protests in 2020. And then, just a year later, Putin would find such forces manifesting once again at home, before being met and suppressed with heavy-handed repression. As we can see, Putin is burdened with numerous examples of such threats, right up until he authorises military action in Ukraine. Can the same be said of NATO’s threat to Putin’s survival? Probably not. However, this is hardly a binary matter. To what degree would fear from the threat of democratic expansion discredit anxieties of military expansion? To put it another way, one be fearful of multiple threats at the same time.
McFaul downplays the role of that fateful error in NATO expansion influencing Putin’s decision to invade Ukraine, presenting three supporting arguments.
- NATO expansion did not emerge as a significant concern within the Russian leadership during McFaul’s tenure as Russia advisor to Obama and U.S. Ambassador to Russia.
- There was no initiative in 2022 amongst NATO to accelerate Ukraine’s membership into the alliance. This inertia was understood by all parties, including Russia.
- NATO has never attacked Russia, nor does it have the intention of doing so.
It’s my view that at least two of these arguments are faulty, and one is not so clear cut.
On the first point, McFaul cites numerous correspondences from Russian leadership, suggesting the Kremlin hasn’t always held an adverse view to NATO. While this is true, McFaul’s inference is highly misleading. I am firmly convinced that the evidence shows Russia’s persistent opposition to the expansion of NATO, employing a combination of sticks and carrots across the years to manage this challenge. For the Kremlin’s stick, Russia invaded Georgia just one month after NATO’s 2008 Bucharest Summit, when the alliance pledged that Ukraine and Georgia would one day join its ranks. This action starkly demonstrated the Kremlin’s determination to contest the West’s vision for European security, which American military analyst Michael Kofman agreed constituted a “red line” for Russia.
As for the Kremlin’s carrot, McFaul omits the context and intent for which Russia’s short-lived cordial messaging probably hoped to achieve—to have Russia’s security concerns taken into account. After all, Russian authorities recognised that raising the issue of NATO expansion in strong terms had the potential to reignite security suspicions among the former Soviet states. Putin is indeed on the record in 2005 for stating Russia would respect the choice of former Soviet republics joining NATO, but in the same breath, he never wavered in signalling Russia’s aversion to NATO expansion. For McFaul, this is seen as a contradiction, as though Russia can’t be fundamentally opposed to NATO expansion, and simultaneously, test a non-confrontational diplomatic approach with the aim of improving its relations with NATO and post-soviet states. Therefore, sporadic examples of amenable Russian diplomacy toward NATO in pursuit of improving its security situation does little to diminish a persistent signal of Russian enmity toward NATO expansion—which has endured since the fall of the Berlin Wall.
On McFaul’s second point, he stresses the implausibility of Ukrainian NATO membership on the eve of Russia’s invasion, citing a lack of a Western resolve to accelerate Ukraine’s accession. This is arguably a moot point when you take into account two factors. The first, is that on the eve of Russia’s invasion, Ukraine had U.S. support for NATO membership, which included ongoing support activities for Ukrainian military reforms. In short, despite a lack of alliance consensus on the Ukraine issue, NATO members were expending national treasure to improve Ukraine’s prospects of joining the alliance. Secondly, as if the Alliance’s strategic commitment to Ukraine’s membership, reform assistance, and popular support weren’t enough to anticipate that Ukraine’s membership status may one day change, the U.S. was heavily invested in providing security assistance to Ukraine to counter Russian encroachment. So, whilst Ukraine’s membership prospects remained stagnant, NATO activities were ongoing to strengthen Ukraine’s defensive capabilities and improving Kyiv’s prospects of strategic Western alignment. This is crucial to understanding the perceived threat of NATO from Moscow’s perspective and the potential incentive it presented to fight sooner rather than later in the face of a deteriorating military balance.
Lastly, addressing McFaul’s third point, he emphasises that NATO harbours no plans to launch an attack against Russia. This is almost certainly true, particularly because of Russian nuclear deterrence. Then what underlies the Kremlin’s opposition to NATO’s eastward expansion? In contrast to Western security elites, who generally perceive security threats based on intent and capability, their Russian counterparts have held a steady record of defining security threats in terms of their physical proximity to Russia’s borders—going back as far as the Russian Federation’s earliest foreign policy document: “Russia will oppose all attempts to build up the politico-military presence of third countries in the states adjoining Russia”. The school of realist thought would also remind us that fear of external military alliances are a central aspect of the international system, and that no state can ever be certain of the intentions of the other side. Particularly since Putin has long dismissed the notion of the alliance being purely defensive in nature, following NATO’s decision in 1999 to bomb Yugoslavia without UNSC authorisation.
However, since the relationship between Russia and the U.S. has seen its ups and downs, and not just a straightforward increase in tension from NATO’s expansion, there appears to be more to the NATO story. If we consider Putin’s aim to sway Kyiv’s political and economic alignment towards Moscow, then the West’s commitment and support of Ukraine’s ambitions to join NATO emerges as a direct challenge. In essence, Putin perceives NATO not just as a military alliance but as an instrument of U.S. foreign policy aimed at promoting and protecting Ukraine’s pivot westward. This perspective frames the threat NATO poses to Putin more as an indirect security challenge to his regime, rather than a conventional military threat to the Russian Federation. The alliance’s ability to secure the gains of liberal democratic expansion in Russia’s near abroad are seen as extending U.S. influence, potentially encouraging domestic dissent and even facilitating U.S.-supported change in regime in Russia. So, what can the Kremlin hope to do to defend itself against such a regime security threat? Domestically, through greater repression of independent media, civic activism, and through increasing centralization of power. And beyond Russia’s borders? After all, external repression activities can only go so far in hindering democratic movements. This is where NATO comes in. It’s the strategic bulwark against Russian power projection in the region. It’s threat potential has been acutely demonstrated by its facilitation of Ukrainian military resistance, enabling Ukraine to conduct military acts on Russian territory in its fight to oppose Kyiv’s political subjugation to Moscow.
In closing, McFaul’s analysis offers a compelling view on the merits of Putin’s aversion to democracy and the threat it posed to his regime. Yet, this perspective arguably falls short of capturing all the factors behind Moscow’s perception of NATO as a credible security risk. This is particularly relevant when considering the Kremlin’s ambitions in its own sphere of influence and its profound mistrust of U.S. foreign policy.
Beyond the Impasse: Conclusion
In conclusion, this article identified 14 key assumptions to interpret Putin’s motives for invading Ukraine. I argue that:
(1) Putin sees the advancement of liberal democracy as a strategic façade employed by the U.S. to maintain its global supremacy, which clashes with Putin’s aspirations to maximise Russia’s share of world power—particularly in its perceived sphere of influence;
(2) Putin observes a decline in U.S. power and believes it no longer possesses the capability to pursuit a unilateral grand strategy to preserve its global hegemony—leading to the conclusion that the existing international system is untenable and ripe for contest;
(3) Putin views cross-border liberal democratic expansion as a credible threat to his authoritarian regime;
(4) Putin views U.S. external influence activities in its perceived sphere of influence as acts that must be confronted—given their threat to his authoritarian regime and applicability to maintaining the U.S.-led international order;
(5) Putin views NATO as a U.S. foreign policy tool for protecting and advancing a U.S.-led international order through military means, thereby posing a credible security threat;
(6) Putin opposes NATO eastward expansion, aiming to thwart it with a dynamic and adaptable strategy that utilises carrots and sticks—situation dependent;
(7) Kyiv’s political and economic orientation toward Moscow is a grand strategy goal of Putin;
(8) Putin favoured the use of non-lethal political measures to attain this goal, until non-lethal political measures were no longer tenable for achieving it;
(9) Putin is deterred by NATO and recognises states who fall under its protection are no longer capable of being confronted within the military domain through conventional means—at the risk of nuclear confrontation;
(10) Kyiv joining NATO is a red line for Putin;
(11) Putin is promoting an ideology domestically and internationally to legitimise Russian influence and control within post-soviet territories and to counteract the spread of liberal democracy;
(12) Putin anticipated an expeditious military victory in Ukraine—through swift regime change that would lead to Kyiv’s long-term political subjugation to Moscow;
(13) Russian concerns surrounding the prevention of genocide in the Donbas played no plausible role in Putin’s decision to undertake military action in Ukraine;
(14) Russian concerns surrounding the prevention of Ukraine acquiring a nuclear weapon played no plausible role in Putin’s decision to undertake military action in Ukraine.
***
Suggested books for in-depth reading on this topic:
Economic War: Ukraine and the Global Conflict between Russia and the West (Maximilian Hess)
Putin’s Wars: From Chechnya to Ukraine (Mark Galeotti)
The Russo-Ukrainian War: The Return of History (Serhii Plokhy)
Our Enemies Will Vanish: The Russian Invasion and Ukraine’s War of Independence (Yaroslav Trofimov)
The War Came To Us: Life and Death in Ukraine (Christopher Miller)
Additional reading suggestions can be found on our 2024 geopolitical reading list
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John Fee is a security intelligence analyst working in the technology sector, with a focus on identifying emerging security risks in Europe. Drawing from his experience as a former signaller in the British Army as well as living and working across Europe in a variety of security roles, John brings a holistic understanding of the European security landscape to his analysis. He is a graduate of Malmö University, where he completed a degree in Peace and Conflict Studies and International Relations.
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