The Crimean Dilemma

The U.S. response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has been largely reactive, not proactive. This reactivity is most apparent in the ever-shifting limits on appropriate military support: again and again, the West will insist that some weapon is off the table, only to provide it a few months later.

But this is not only a matter of equipment: it is unclear whether the United States and its allies have any clear vision of the set of plausible and desirable outcomes in Ukraine, beyond the laudable—but reactive—desire to foil Putin’s plans. Henry Kissinger forcefully raised this point in his much-misunderstood comments on NATO expansion in 2014 and after the invasion: he objected to expanding NATO, primarily because no one had a plan to deal with the consequences. You might say we sleepwalked into the war. Today, American reactivity is most obvious in Washington’s failure to develop a strategic approach to the war's consequences—understanding how it will end, what comes next, and what a successful Ukrainian counteroffensive implies.

If we are lucky, we will sleepwalk into victory. But luck is a poor substitute for foresight. Ukraine’s long-expected eastern counteroffensive is underway. So far, it has proceeded slowly, with modest success along the Zaporizhzhia front, where Ukrainian armored units are fighting through several Russian lines of defense—part of a complicated set of trenches and anti-tank obstacles constructed over the last year to protect the Crimean approaches. If Ukraine can breach those fortifications, it may well succeed in taking Melitopol or even Berdyansk. That may put parts of the peninsula in HIMARS range, and it will put all of it within easier reach of UK-supplied Storm Shadow cruise missiles. Such preparatory strikes can pave the way for a later advance into Crimea itself.

But an advance into Crimea, especially if it involves Russian military collapse, has entirely different ramifications from a victory in Kharkiv or Kherson. It could trigger internal Russian turmoil or even collapse—which might be good, but also dangerous. There is even a chance that it pushes Putin to attempt a tactical nuclear strike. At the same time, a Ukrainian ability to threaten the peninsula—without an actual advance—may offer the best hope for a negotiated settlement. But there is no need to rule out an attempt at recapture: if we understand the risks and rewards, and plan for them, we can prepare for any eventuality. If we do not, our lack of foresight may finally catch up to us, pulling us into a dangerous morass we can ill afford as we seek to shift focus to China.

Crimea was the first Ukrainian territory Putin seized in 2014, and it is by far the most important to him. It hosts much of the Russian Black Sea Fleet at Sevastopol (Russia also seized most of Ukraine's navy during the 2014 invasion), and it has several key airbases; it also allows Russia to more easily threaten Ukrainian shipping. It was the most pro-Russian region of Ukraine before the war; like all the rest, it voted for independence in 1991, but the vote was quite close compared to all other regions.  

So an advance into Crimea represents a unique threat to Putin’s image as the protector of Russia as well as his strategic position, and it means the reversal of an annexation that was wildly popular among his citizens. Putin could spin the loss of the Donbas in a way that minimizes domestic risk, by claiming, for example, that Russia’s mission of “protecting ethnic Russians” is complete, and citizens of the Donbas will now be “treated better.” But defeat in Crimea cannot be spun. Nor is it likely to happen until the Russian military is at real risk of catastrophic collapse—and Putin’s own military is his greatest domestic threat. That is part of the reason why he allowed Wagner to exercise so much influence—it was a divide-and-conquer strategy to reduce risk. Of course, it had the side effect of turning Wagner into a threat.

All this makes an invasion an enticing proposition: Putin’s domestic power is threatened, the Russian military risks collapse, and Ukraine manages to restore its 1991 borders. Perhaps such an invasion even serves as the catalyst for a 1917-style internal Russian collapse, or 1604-style Time of Troubles (as Vladislav Zubov recently suggested in Foreign Affairs). That could eliminate the only strategic threat to Europe. Yevgeny Prigozhin’s march on Moscow shattered Putin’s aura of invincibility, and it was clearly bolstered by apathy and discontent within the Russian military itself. It may have reached as high as General Sergei Surovikin–one of Russia’s best commanders in Ukraine so far, and one beloved by his troops.

Indeed, after Prigozhin’s revolt, Washington needs a plan for Russian collapse or instability. It is unclear whether Ukrainian victory—however defined—can coincide with the continued existence of Russia’s present regime and internal order. An internal catastrophe could happen in any case of any grave Russian defeat: even a recapture of Bakhmut, which is possible in light of recent advances, will deal another blow to Putin’s government. The actual tipping point is hard to measure, and might never come, but it’s something the United States must be prepared to manage or even exploit—regardless of Crimea’s eventual status.

But the positives of Russian turmoil come with very severe dangers. For example, any successor to Putin might be more nationalist and aggressive—and perhaps more skilled at military and economic management. Prigozhin was never a likely successor: as a former convict and a kind of populist, he was unlikely to earn the trust of the established Russian elite. But Wagner’s brutality and fascistic tendencies are well-known, and Russian critics of the war in Ukraine generally fault Putin for being too soft and insufficiently aggressive. A Russian breakup might be good for the world in the long term, but comes with tremendous short-term security risks, including the possibility of infighting among different military factions, Wagner (still very powerful), other PMCs, and ethnic groups like Kadyrov’s Chechens. And there are still thousands of nuclear weapons floating around. No one wants a repeat of the Russian Civil War, with nuclear weapons. These are probably not the most likely outcomes, but they are sufficiently dangerous to warrant attention.

Putin might also consider a tactical nuclear strike to stop a Crimean invasion. Most of the nuclear fear-mongering surrounding this war is unwarranted, because it rests on the mistaken assumption that Putin is a maniac who might push the button at any time. But this is not so: he is rational, often cautious, and even fairly predictable. He has a long-term goal of restoring a kind of Russian Empire. He laid it out in his prewar essay, “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians.” He invaded Ukraine when he did because he saw it drifting toward the West, and thought (correctly) that he could not stop that drift without regime change or annexation. In the same way, he may conduct a nuclear strike if, in his view, benefits outweigh costs. And he could decide that the costs of an advance are intolerable if they threaten his political survival.

Putin has refrained thus far because the costs of a strike are also very high. On the one hand, there is the prospect of threatened NATO military retaliation, which might be significant, even if non-nuclear. There is also a risk that someone disobeys the order. But perhaps most concerning to Putin is the possibility that a strike simply fails. A single tactical strike is probably insufficient—from a purely military standpoint—to stop a Ukrainian advance. It might have a considerable effect if targeting a large concentration of arms and equipment, but both sides have been careful to keep forces dispersed. So Putin would essentially be conducting a strategic strike, even if using a tactical weapon: the threat, terror, and intimidation of the strike, rather than its direct military effects, would shock Ukraine into pausing its advance and cow allies into ceasing aid. But this effect is hardly guaranteed; Putin’s hesitant response to Prigozhin suggests a level of risk-aversion that may well hold him back at the decisive moment.

Russia has another problem, too: missile defense. Russia could choose to deliver tactical weapons via cruise missiles, air-launched ballistic missiles like the Kinzhal, or ground-launched ballistic missiles like the Iskander. Previously, Ukraine could only down the cruise missiles. But the Patriot system has struck several air and ground-launched ballistic missiles, and Ukraine has two such systems (and one Italian equivalent). If one of them is covering a Crimean advance, Russia would need to launch several nuclear missiles to overwhelm it. This also makes a strategic strike on a city less appealing.

But the danger of a Crimean advance also means that Ukraine might obtain considerable success in negotiations by foregoing or limiting it. If defeat in Crimea is one thing that really threatens Putin, then only the fear of defeat will induce real, serious negotiations. Putin can never agree to some of the demands Ukraine has suggested, like a special tribunal to prosecute war crimes, but Russia might agree to withdraw from the Donbas, or otherwise accept unfavorable but not humiliating terms, in exchange for a Ukrainian pledge to leave Crimea in peace. Crimea is Ukraine’s best bargaining chip.

Thus, it is not outrageous to suggest—concerns of abstract justice aside—that Ukraine should seek an advantageous military position that threatens Crimea with a ground offensive or long-range strikes and should then sue for peace instead of pressing the advantage. Some of Ukraine's Western partners will likely push for just such a settlement.

Zelensky faces domestic pressures that will complicate any talks, and might encourage Kyiv to advance regardless of NATO preferences. He has repeatedly promised to retake all captured territory—including the peninsula. It will be hard to exercise restraint, especially if Ukraine is winning, and especially given all the suffering Russia has inflicted. Last month, though, one of his advisers floated the possibility of conducting serious negotiations if the counteroffensive succeeds in reaching Crimea’s borders. His office walked back the comments in order to maintain consistent messaging, but the story implies that Zelensky is at least mulling the option. A recent Washington Post article suggested that unnamed “military planners in Kyiv” had reached the same conclusion. Either way, though, Ukraine cannot go ahead and publicly declare a willingness to stop at Melitopol, since doing so will reduce negotiating leverage.

I do not know whether it makes more sense to menace Crimea and use it as a bargaining chip, or attempt to seize it, hoping to destroy Putin’s government by doing so. For now, strategic ambiguity probably serves us well. Or Ukraine could advance into the peninsula and stop if a nuclear strike seems imminent. If the counteroffensive succeeds, it is probably most sensible to sit in Melitopol for a while, strike Crimean targets with long-range missiles, see how things look in Russia, and then decide. Regardless, America needs to be ready to take advantage of a real Russian defeat, but also ready to encourage prudent negotiations should the need arise, or the danger grow too great. Whether the war ends with a Russian Crimea or with no Russia at all, we must be prepared to use Crimea as a tool to reach that end.