riting the first history of a conflict is an unenviable task, especially about a conflict that has not yet ended and for which the end is not even in distant view. It is a risky endeavor, but one boldly taken up by two authors who attempt to pen that first draft of history: Luke Harding in “Invasion” and Owen Matthews in his book “Overreach.” Both are smoothly and elegantly written, presenting similar compelling stories, but are sufficiently different from one another that reading both, even in quick succession, is supremely rewarding.
As the war in Ukraine enters its second year, it is important to reflect on how the war began and how much has happened since February of 2022: the offensives and retreats on the battlefields, the political machinations in capitals from Washington, D.C., to Moscow, and the devastating consequences for Ukraine’s civilian population. While certainly not the first war of the 21st century, it is the first major land war in Europe since World War II, and one that has upended so many lives and so many assumptions.
It is just as remarkable to reflect on how much further the war has yet to go. The longer the war continues and the further removed the public is from its origin, the greater the likelihood that war fatigue sets in, not just for the media, but the public at large. The West’s willingness to continue support to Ukraine is critical to the country’s survival and long-term success. That willingness is predicated on the public’s understanding of the war and its consequences, and here Harding and Matthews refresh readers’ memories, a critical service to Kyiv and the West, writ large.
Harding, for his part, offers a deeply sympathetic and moving portrait of Ukraine, its people, and the effects of the war on both. Indeed, he places the Ukrainian people at the heart of his story. His writing is informed by prolific interviews with Ukrainian politicians and soldiers, Western diplomats and officials, and average Ukrainians who as of this writing are still experiencing the horrors of Moscow’s war of aggression. It is also a remarkably well-blended book, one that balances the high politics of European capitals with the horrors of war, from the battlefield to Ukraine’s besieged cities. His inclusion of just the right amount of Ukrainian, Russian, and military history helps contextualize the ongoing war without weighing down his narrative flow. It is an impressive effort to capture the active dynamism of this war.
Throughout “Invasion,” Harding both weaves and teases at narrative threads about the war’s conduct that will almost certainly be explored in greater detail in the future. One such example is the fascinating informational element of the war in Ukraine, best embodied by Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Ukraine’s president, and Kyiv’s mastery of both traditional and social media tools. Prior to the February 2022 invasion, and certainly after Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014, the West largely ceded the information war to Moscow.
Kyiv flipped this dynamic on its head. While not the first war of the social media era, it has shown the power of narratives and stories communicated through this medium in a time of war. From the open-source community’s maturation to the emergence of the social media movement known as “North Atlantic Fellas Organization” or “NAFO” (an online community dedicated to heckling Russian diplomats, most often accompanied by a cartoon Shiba Inu avatar), alongside Zelenskyy’s own efforts, the world is witnessing the war in near-real time, albeit one understandably dominated by Ukraine’s narratives. There are, of course, limits to this narrative and information warfare, and attendant risks. Most significantly, the West is winning the war, well, against itself—seeing only what it wants to see and discounting both Russia’s information war at home, but also how the war is seen in the Global South.
Harding is a full-throated supporter of Ukraine’s cause and this colors much of his reporting and the writing of “Invasion.” He wears his heart on his sleeve. There is, of course, nothing wrong with this—Ukraine’s national survival and the rejection of spheres of influence are the right causes and demand the West’s support. Harding’s support and its visible presence does, however, tilt his book away from perhaps a true history and towards more of a polemic. Even so, this is perhaps what is needed now. Harding’s impassioned support and colorful writing reminds readers of what is at stake in the war—European security and the rule of law—but also the consequences of the war on Ukraine’s civilians.
By contrast, Matthews presents what is more immediately familiar as a conventional history of the war. Also informed by innumerable interviews—many of which are with Moscow insiders, albeit identified by pseudonyms—Matthews offers a longer-term historical narrative of Ukraine and its place in Russia’s understanding of itself, as well as the Kremlin’s machinations across the recent history of both Russia and Ukraine. Whereas Harding dives aggressively into the immediacy of the war, Matthews takes a step back offering a much wider lens through which to view and understand Russia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine. Matthews seats his analysis in this longer arc of history. This bridges a gap in literature, which has focused either on the immediate conflict, or the longer-term history of Russia and Ukraine (something masterfully done by Serhii Plokhy in successive works such as “The Gates of Europe” and “The Lost Kingdom”). Matthews finds a welcome middle ground showing not just what has happened, but why it happened from the perspectives of both Moscow and Kyiv.
He charts the rise of Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, and his inner circle, and how they viewed the world. While Harding provides brief pen-and-ink sketches of the key players in Moscow (which has its own shortcomings), Matthews offers deeper biographical portraits about their motivations and how they fit into the Kremlin’s complex, cannibalistic, and competitive ecosystem. Matthews methodically builds the causes and drivers of the war in Ukraine, layering on politics, history, propaganda, and more, arriving at the inevitable climax of 24 February 2022.
He also offers a personal touch to the war, opening “Overreach” with a series of personal vignettes and anecdotes from Russians, Ukrainians, and a failed British squaddie who joins the Ukrainians as a private soldier, before he turns to the meat of the history of the conflict. He returns to these portraits periodically throughout the narrative. After the war’s outbreak, Matthews’ narrative picks up pace and becomes, in many ways, a ground-level account of the war with interludes to the machinations in Moscow, Kyiv, London, Washington, and across Europe.
“Overreach” is the more balanced of the two accounts—not that Matthews is sympathetic to Russia. Not at all. Whereas Harding’s support of Ukraine is on full display, Matthews takes a more dispassionate look at the war. He explores how the world and recent history is viewed from the Kremlin. This is a necessary measure of strategic empathy that is required of proper histories—not that the views are accepted, but that they are at least acknowledged as existing in the minds of those with whom we disagree or who are adversaries.
He asks the counterfactuals of could the war have been avoided? Could the West have done anything to address Moscow’s insecurities and brought Russia more into the fold of European security? Perhaps unsurprisingly, the answer is no, not the least of which is because of the marked absence of the aforementioned strategic empathy. For all of the analysis and expertise on Russia, policymakers were unable to see things from Moscow’s perspective and, conversely, Moscow could not see things from the West’s perspective. For example, reflecting on Brussels’ engagement with Georgia and Ukraine, Matthews writes, “NATO believed that shows of military solidarity would discourage Russian aggression. But to Moscow, it was precisely such symbolic shows of military engagement that were so provocative.”
The future remains unwritten. How the war progresses in 2023 is far from certain. It is likely that Ukraine will continue its offensives with increasingly advanced Western arms, retaking lost territory and putting Russia on the backfoot. Indeed, the United States, United Kingdom, and Germany recently decided to send main battle tanks to Ukraine, and there are calls for the provision of F-16 fighter jets to join Ukraine’s growing arsenal. More ambitious pundits, both Western and Ukrainian, are suggesting that Kyiv go as far as retaking Crimea.
Moscow, for its part, is likely to field a good portion of those mobilized in its recent call-up of forces. To be sure they will be deeply unhappy, underequipped, and poorly led, but there is a quality in quantity. While the Kremlin has failed to achieve its violently optimistic goals of taking Kyiv and the country in swift thrusts, it appears Moscow is aiming for a much more destructive course of action, increasing the costs of the war to Ukraine and its defenders. Putin is hoping that the continued costs of the war, the political changes in America’s Congress, and domestic political and economic pressures across Europe will weigh on Western unity and, eventually, cause it to split.
This may be an ambitious prospect. Europe has largely avoided the energy catastrophe many feared. Higher than expected winter temperatures have reduced demands while additional supplies and alternative sources have developed. Western unity remains strong, and looks to continue, but is by no means guaranteed. The West is also at risk of premature triumphalism and the adoption of the false belief that simply because Russia has not escalated on the battlefield means that it cannot or will not. Russia possesses means well beyond nuclear arms to retaliate against the West or communicate its red lines. The West would do well to continue considering these risks in its calculus as it has done so thus far.
For Ukraine, Russia’s “special military operation” has catalyzed a national identity that is stronger than could ever have been hoped for, something Harding shows vividly throughout his book. War is the greatest unifier, but its sustainability once the shooting stops remains to be seen. There is strikingly little discussion of the underlying factors and drivers that caused many in Eastern Ukraine to be, if not more sympathetic to Moscow than Kyiv, than at least desirous of greater independence. Anna Arutunyan’s “Hybrid Warriors” is one of the few accounts to address this issue and return a measure of agency to these overlooked Ukrainians.
Matthews’ prognosis for the future of Russia is grim, showing the economic and human capital costs of Putin’s flawed interpretation of history and the consequences thereof for Ukraine. He writes, “The price of his [Putin’s] illusions was not only thousands of lost lives, but also a lost future of Russia. Most ominously of all, the misbegotten war had opened a Pandora’s box of alternative futures for Russia that were much scarier than Putin’s regime had ever been.” While most attention is, understandably, given to the conduct of the war and Ukraine’s prospects of success, due attention must also be given to Russia and what comes next. Battlefield defeats for Moscow, while welcome, do not intrinsically mean that which follows will be better—it could well be much worse, and it is something the West would do well to consider.
As others have noted, with the war approaching its one-year anniversary, both “Overreach” and “Invasion” provide a useful reminder that, as Harding writes, all of the “unthinkable things happened… things which seemed impossible in the 21st century.” While countless books on the war in Ukraine are inevitably to follow, both Harding’s and Matthews’ entries are timely and valuable, refreshing the collective memory of why so much aid and support has to flowed to Kyiv, and must continue to do so in the future—not just for the sake of Ukraine, but for the rule of law in the 21st century.
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Drafting the First Histories of the Russia-Ukraine War
Photo by Fallon Michael on Unsplash.
February 25, 2023
Writing early histories of a conflict, especially one that is ongoing such as Ukraine, is a difficult and risky endeavor. In his latest book review, Joshua Huminski considers two books-Luke Harding's "Invasion" and Owen Matthews' "Overreach"-which are quite different but similarly rewarding.
W
riting the first history of a conflict is an unenviable task, especially about a conflict that has not yet ended and for which the end is not even in distant view. It is a risky endeavor, but one boldly taken up by two authors who attempt to pen that first draft of history: Luke Harding in “Invasion” and Owen Matthews in his book “Overreach.” Both are smoothly and elegantly written, presenting similar compelling stories, but are sufficiently different from one another that reading both, even in quick succession, is supremely rewarding.
As the war in Ukraine enters its second year, it is important to reflect on how the war began and how much has happened since February of 2022: the offensives and retreats on the battlefields, the political machinations in capitals from Washington, D.C., to Moscow, and the devastating consequences for Ukraine’s civilian population. While certainly not the first war of the 21st century, it is the first major land war in Europe since World War II, and one that has upended so many lives and so many assumptions.
It is just as remarkable to reflect on how much further the war has yet to go. The longer the war continues and the further removed the public is from its origin, the greater the likelihood that war fatigue sets in, not just for the media, but the public at large. The West’s willingness to continue support to Ukraine is critical to the country’s survival and long-term success. That willingness is predicated on the public’s understanding of the war and its consequences, and here Harding and Matthews refresh readers’ memories, a critical service to Kyiv and the West, writ large.
Harding, for his part, offers a deeply sympathetic and moving portrait of Ukraine, its people, and the effects of the war on both. Indeed, he places the Ukrainian people at the heart of his story. His writing is informed by prolific interviews with Ukrainian politicians and soldiers, Western diplomats and officials, and average Ukrainians who as of this writing are still experiencing the horrors of Moscow’s war of aggression. It is also a remarkably well-blended book, one that balances the high politics of European capitals with the horrors of war, from the battlefield to Ukraine’s besieged cities. His inclusion of just the right amount of Ukrainian, Russian, and military history helps contextualize the ongoing war without weighing down his narrative flow. It is an impressive effort to capture the active dynamism of this war.
Throughout “Invasion,” Harding both weaves and teases at narrative threads about the war’s conduct that will almost certainly be explored in greater detail in the future. One such example is the fascinating informational element of the war in Ukraine, best embodied by Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Ukraine’s president, and Kyiv’s mastery of both traditional and social media tools. Prior to the February 2022 invasion, and certainly after Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014, the West largely ceded the information war to Moscow.
Kyiv flipped this dynamic on its head. While not the first war of the social media era, it has shown the power of narratives and stories communicated through this medium in a time of war. From the open-source community’s maturation to the emergence of the social media movement known as “North Atlantic Fellas Organization” or “NAFO” (an online community dedicated to heckling Russian diplomats, most often accompanied by a cartoon Shiba Inu avatar), alongside Zelenskyy’s own efforts, the world is witnessing the war in near-real time, albeit one understandably dominated by Ukraine’s narratives. There are, of course, limits to this narrative and information warfare, and attendant risks. Most significantly, the West is winning the war, well, against itself—seeing only what it wants to see and discounting both Russia’s information war at home, but also how the war is seen in the Global South.
Harding is a full-throated supporter of Ukraine’s cause and this colors much of his reporting and the writing of “Invasion.” He wears his heart on his sleeve. There is, of course, nothing wrong with this—Ukraine’s national survival and the rejection of spheres of influence are the right causes and demand the West’s support. Harding’s support and its visible presence does, however, tilt his book away from perhaps a true history and towards more of a polemic. Even so, this is perhaps what is needed now. Harding’s impassioned support and colorful writing reminds readers of what is at stake in the war—European security and the rule of law—but also the consequences of the war on Ukraine’s civilians.
By contrast, Matthews presents what is more immediately familiar as a conventional history of the war. Also informed by innumerable interviews—many of which are with Moscow insiders, albeit identified by pseudonyms—Matthews offers a longer-term historical narrative of Ukraine and its place in Russia’s understanding of itself, as well as the Kremlin’s machinations across the recent history of both Russia and Ukraine. Whereas Harding dives aggressively into the immediacy of the war, Matthews takes a step back offering a much wider lens through which to view and understand Russia’s expanded invasion of Ukraine. Matthews seats his analysis in this longer arc of history. This bridges a gap in literature, which has focused either on the immediate conflict, or the longer-term history of Russia and Ukraine (something masterfully done by Serhii Plokhy in successive works such as “The Gates of Europe” and “The Lost Kingdom”). Matthews finds a welcome middle ground showing not just what has happened, but why it happened from the perspectives of both Moscow and Kyiv.
He charts the rise of Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, and his inner circle, and how they viewed the world. While Harding provides brief pen-and-ink sketches of the key players in Moscow (which has its own shortcomings), Matthews offers deeper biographical portraits about their motivations and how they fit into the Kremlin’s complex, cannibalistic, and competitive ecosystem. Matthews methodically builds the causes and drivers of the war in Ukraine, layering on politics, history, propaganda, and more, arriving at the inevitable climax of 24 February 2022.
He also offers a personal touch to the war, opening “Overreach” with a series of personal vignettes and anecdotes from Russians, Ukrainians, and a failed British squaddie who joins the Ukrainians as a private soldier, before he turns to the meat of the history of the conflict. He returns to these portraits periodically throughout the narrative. After the war’s outbreak, Matthews’ narrative picks up pace and becomes, in many ways, a ground-level account of the war with interludes to the machinations in Moscow, Kyiv, London, Washington, and across Europe.
“Overreach” is the more balanced of the two accounts—not that Matthews is sympathetic to Russia. Not at all. Whereas Harding’s support of Ukraine is on full display, Matthews takes a more dispassionate look at the war. He explores how the world and recent history is viewed from the Kremlin. This is a necessary measure of strategic empathy that is required of proper histories—not that the views are accepted, but that they are at least acknowledged as existing in the minds of those with whom we disagree or who are adversaries.
He asks the counterfactuals of could the war have been avoided? Could the West have done anything to address Moscow’s insecurities and brought Russia more into the fold of European security? Perhaps unsurprisingly, the answer is no, not the least of which is because of the marked absence of the aforementioned strategic empathy. For all of the analysis and expertise on Russia, policymakers were unable to see things from Moscow’s perspective and, conversely, Moscow could not see things from the West’s perspective. For example, reflecting on Brussels’ engagement with Georgia and Ukraine, Matthews writes, “NATO believed that shows of military solidarity would discourage Russian aggression. But to Moscow, it was precisely such symbolic shows of military engagement that were so provocative.”
The future remains unwritten. How the war progresses in 2023 is far from certain. It is likely that Ukraine will continue its offensives with increasingly advanced Western arms, retaking lost territory and putting Russia on the backfoot. Indeed, the United States, United Kingdom, and Germany recently decided to send main battle tanks to Ukraine, and there are calls for the provision of F-16 fighter jets to join Ukraine’s growing arsenal. More ambitious pundits, both Western and Ukrainian, are suggesting that Kyiv go as far as retaking Crimea.
Moscow, for its part, is likely to field a good portion of those mobilized in its recent call-up of forces. To be sure they will be deeply unhappy, underequipped, and poorly led, but there is a quality in quantity. While the Kremlin has failed to achieve its violently optimistic goals of taking Kyiv and the country in swift thrusts, it appears Moscow is aiming for a much more destructive course of action, increasing the costs of the war to Ukraine and its defenders. Putin is hoping that the continued costs of the war, the political changes in America’s Congress, and domestic political and economic pressures across Europe will weigh on Western unity and, eventually, cause it to split.
This may be an ambitious prospect. Europe has largely avoided the energy catastrophe many feared. Higher than expected winter temperatures have reduced demands while additional supplies and alternative sources have developed. Western unity remains strong, and looks to continue, but is by no means guaranteed. The West is also at risk of premature triumphalism and the adoption of the false belief that simply because Russia has not escalated on the battlefield means that it cannot or will not. Russia possesses means well beyond nuclear arms to retaliate against the West or communicate its red lines. The West would do well to continue considering these risks in its calculus as it has done so thus far.
For Ukraine, Russia’s “special military operation” has catalyzed a national identity that is stronger than could ever have been hoped for, something Harding shows vividly throughout his book. War is the greatest unifier, but its sustainability once the shooting stops remains to be seen. There is strikingly little discussion of the underlying factors and drivers that caused many in Eastern Ukraine to be, if not more sympathetic to Moscow than Kyiv, than at least desirous of greater independence. Anna Arutunyan’s “Hybrid Warriors” is one of the few accounts to address this issue and return a measure of agency to these overlooked Ukrainians.
Matthews’ prognosis for the future of Russia is grim, showing the economic and human capital costs of Putin’s flawed interpretation of history and the consequences thereof for Ukraine. He writes, “The price of his [Putin’s] illusions was not only thousands of lost lives, but also a lost future of Russia. Most ominously of all, the misbegotten war had opened a Pandora’s box of alternative futures for Russia that were much scarier than Putin’s regime had ever been.” While most attention is, understandably, given to the conduct of the war and Ukraine’s prospects of success, due attention must also be given to Russia and what comes next. Battlefield defeats for Moscow, while welcome, do not intrinsically mean that which follows will be better—it could well be much worse, and it is something the West would do well to consider.
As others have noted, with the war approaching its one-year anniversary, both “Overreach” and “Invasion” provide a useful reminder that, as Harding writes, all of the “unthinkable things happened… things which seemed impossible in the 21st century.” While countless books on the war in Ukraine are inevitably to follow, both Harding’s and Matthews’ entries are timely and valuable, refreshing the collective memory of why so much aid and support has to flowed to Kyiv, and must continue to do so in the future—not just for the sake of Ukraine, but for the rule of law in the 21st century.
