Is Russia showing signs of compromise in Ukraine? Recent statements from Moscow should not be trusted—but nor should they be ignored.
Shortly after the one-month anniversary of the invasion, the Kremlin declared that the first phase of its “special military operation” had been successfully completed. A few days later, it announced that troops would be withdrawn from the area around Kyiv and Chernihiv. And at the start of the latest round of peace talks, it was reported that Russia was willing to accept both EU membership and western security guarantees for Ukraine in return for Ukrainian neutrality, including a ban on foreign military bases and joining Nato. It was also suggested that the demand for the “denazification” of Ukraine had been dropped.
Some western observers have greeted these claims positively, eager to see an end to the war. But others, including officials in US and UK governments, have been sceptical. They have good reason to be so.
Although reports suggest some troops have indeed been moved away from Kyiv, it is unclear whether any significant withdrawal has taken place or is likely to. One possibility is that tired and depleted troops are simply being rotated out and will be replaced; others have suggested that a temporary withdrawal will be reversed when it suits Russia.
Whatever the actual scale of such changes, attacks on these cities have continued regardless. And even significant reductions on the ground would not prevent devastating missile attacks, which have often been launched from Russia or Belarus.
Then there is the widespread concern that rather than withdrawing completely, Russian forces in the region around Kyiv will be redeployed to eastern Ukraine, where Russia seems committed to extending and strengthening its illegal occupation. This would look less like a concession in favour of peace and more like an attempt to permanently divide Ukraine.
It is also important to remember that this is only one of the stories that the Kremlin is currently telling—one designed for western audiences, perhaps to encourage the view that Russian aims are limited, achievable, and a basis for compromise. It is still telling its domestic audience that the war is being fought to “denazify” Ukraine. This justification only grew in importance over the first weeks of the war. Serious dialogue with the existing Ukrainian government is not likely.
So recent claims by Russia about its activities, its aims, and its willingness to negotiate should not be trusted. But this doesn’t mean that they are unimportant; in fact, they are significant for what they tell us about Kremlin perceptions of the war.
Most obviously, they are an admission of Russian military failure. Even a partial retreat from Kyiv reflects the fact that the attack on the capital—vital to removing the Zelensky government and replacing it with a pro-Russian puppet regime—has not succeeded. Claims that this is part of a successful first phase of the war and that Russia is now focusing on Luhansk and Donetsk are obvious face-saving moves after the humiliating defeats of the last month.
Moscow’s reported offers on Ukrainian EU membership and western security guarantees are also a sign of failure. One explanation may be that they give all parties a reason to keep talking, reflecting a need to buy time to regroup and restore Russian forces. They also seem designed to chip away at western support for Ukraine. Offering concessions that will look attractive to those keen to have Zelensky compromise to end the war puts pressure on the weakest links of Ukraine’s relationship with the west. Fracturing the western consensus, above all on issues of sanctions against Russia and weapons supplies to Ukraine, will be essential for Russia to achieve any of its objectives.
Yet another indication that the Kremlin has privately recognised its failure are the claims that Putin’s relationship with his military and intelligence services is breaking down. The first sign of this was the report that FSB officers responsible for pre-war assessments of the Ukraine operation had been arrested; this was followed by reports that a senior National Guard officer was sacked over the war. More recently, the US government has claimed that Putin was misled by the military, who have been frightened to tell him the truth about the scale of losses or the use of conscripts. The temporary disappearance of defence minister Sergei Shoigu fuelled western speculation that Putin was turning on his closest advisers.
But despite this, there is no sign that Russia is willing to acknowledge defeat publicly. Given the stakes for Putin, this is not surprising—it is very hard to imagine that he will ever risk acknowledging his failures in Ukraine. Beyond the implications for Putin’s political survival, such honesty would have very serious implications for Russia’s identity and place in the world.
Influence over the post-Soviet space is fundamental to Russia’s great power status. And that status is fundamental to Putin’s (and others’) understanding of Russian national identity. The ability to dominate the region is at the heart of the way Putin sees Russia; anything threatening that poses an existential danger. Ukraine has always been the most important of the post-Soviet states for Russia; this makes it very unlikely Putin would ever accept a truly neutral Ukraine or its membership of the EU, whatever noises he might be making in negotiations.
Putin is caught between the reality of his military, diplomatic and economic failure, and the impossibility of changing course. Ukraine’s future and Europe’s security will depend on how western governments confront this self-inflicted checkmate.
