t the beginning of August 2024, Ukraine launched a bold operation into the Kursk oblast of Russia. According to Ukraine’s commander–in–chief, Gen. Oleksandr Syrskyi, the operation aimed to deny Russia Kursk as a launch pad for operations, divert Russian forces from the front in Ukraine, and to send a message to both the Ukrainian people and Ukraine’s western supporters—particularly the United States. As of this review’s writing, it is unclear whether this gambit will succeed, whether it will achieve Kyiv’s objectives, and how Moscow will respond. What is clear is that its initial success demonstrates Ukraine’s adaptation to a dynamic conflict, integration of hard–won battlefield lessons, and the evolving strategic dynamic between both Moscow and Kyiv—the subject of Maj.Gen. Mick Ryan’s new book “The War for Ukraine.” Roughly divided into two parts—strategy and adaptation—Ryan offers his analysis on how each country, and the West (meaning the United States and NATO), have performed and evolved in this conflict.
In the first section of the book, Ryan surveys the competing strategies for victory of Russia and Ukraine, and how each has changed in response to battlefield and political developments. He analyzes the foundations of each country’s strategy as well as the markedly different leadership styles. He also reflects on the United States’ and NATO’s strategy of support. In the second half, Ryan explores adaptation at the strategic, operational, and tactical levels of conflict.
For long–time readers of Ryan’s social media and writing, his approach and style will be familiar. It is ‘professional military education–light’—he offers clear commentary, with neatly itemized bullets and sub–sections, highlighting what he sees as the key, relevant observations. Ryan sets his commentary within established Western canon and smartly distinguishes lessons (observations) from lessons learned (observations implemented). Too often the latter is confused with the former. Of the two sections, his analysis of adaptation is stronger than that of strategy, though both are meaningful contributions to the literature. On strategy, Ryan interestingly argues that Ukraine is pursuing a campaign of ‘corrosion’ as opposed to annihilation or exhaustion, as German military historian Hans Delbrück, classified warfare. In Ryan’s telling, Kyiv aims to corrode Russia’s ability to wage war militarily, politically, and—via the West—economically, ensuring it cannot achieve its own theory of victory. It is an interesting conception and one that helps frame some, but not all, of Ukraine’s actions.
Ryan shrewdly avoids the techno–fetishism that populates many observations and commentaries. Strategy and adaptation are at their core decidedly human–centric, and technology is merely a tool. The side that is better prepared and designed institutionally and culturally to adapt in general is better prepared to adapt to technological innovations and developments. Here, he finds the Russian military’s centralized, top–down approach wanting. Ukraine’s horizontal networks of communication and proliferation of lessons, especially at the tactical level, are more responsive to changes. This is not to say that Russia does not or cannot adapt, merely that it takes longer and is often more inefficient. Ignoring Russian adaptation is very much a blind spot in Western analysis and commentary.
Ryan’s decision to focus on the military aspects of strategy and adaptation are sensible, though constraining. While he does touch upon the political leadership of both Russia and Ukraine, and each country’s respective efforts to court international support, the military activities as described in the book are largely disconnected from the political, despite those being central to each country’s strategy of victory. This represents a central challenge. Only part of the outcome Ryan outlines is achievable via military means. Yet, it is precisely those military means that set the conditions for the political outcome. Ryan misses a key distinction in Russia’s conception of the war—that it is merely one front in Moscow’s contest with the West. Indeed, President Vladimir Putin sees the United States specifically and NATO more broadly as at war with Russia. While Ryan does explore the broader tendrils of the war into the ‘Global South,’ that key Russian context is absent from his analysis or from almost any analysis. Viewing Ukraine in isolation makes sense from a Western point of view. It is the West’s central line of effort against Russia and the polestar toward which all political, economic, and military activities are oriented. It is also the lens through which relations with Moscow are viewed. It is, however, not how Russia views the fight, which is more important than how Washington sees or conceives of the conflict. How this war ends remains unclear and unanswered by Ryan. He writes that for Russia, victory means “the subjugation of the Ukrainian state, through a combination of occupation and political accommodation.” Kyiv, by contrast, must simply “undermine Russia’s theory of victory” through “will” and “endurance.” Ryan articulates a series of sub–objectives, which includes enmeshing Ukraine in a broader security architecture either bilaterally or multilaterally with eventual entry into NATO, and the rehabilitation and development of Ukraine’s democracy and economy.
For those looking for clear conceptions of victory or a satisfactory end state, neither theory of victory offers a path forward. Russia’s ability to destabilize Ukraine will remain for the foreseeable future. It may not—barring some catastrophic change in battlefield conditions—be able to conquer the entirety of the country, but it will remain able to launch punitive strikes on civilian targets and critical infrastructure. Even were Russia able to launch a breakout, the consolidation of the Ukrainian identity would ensure the nation would remain out of Moscow’s hands.
For Kyiv survival is akin, at least in Ryan’s telling, to victory. Again, not a wholly satisfying outcome for those expecting something more. Battlefield success is only one part—a necessary, but not sufficient part—of victory. Equally important in Ryan’s telling are security guarantees and economic reconstruction (rather self–evident), social rehabilitation and justice (which are decidedly less clear). Ukraine’s ability to resist Russian aggression now and in the future is overwhelmingly predicated on Western assistance and support, the pace of which Ryan and others are critical.
“The War for Ukraine” is an early benchmark against which other analyses of strategy and adaptation will be judged. Ryan delivers a grounded, measured look at what will drive Russian and Ukrainian success or failure, and it is the flexibility and agility of people and people–centric systems, not technology alone.
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Searching for success in the war in Ukraine
Downtown Kyiv. Photo by Glib Albovsky on Unsplash
September 14, 2024
Victory remains elusive in Ukraine. In his new book ‘The War for Ukraine,’ Maj. Gen. Mick Ryan analyzes strategies for victory on the ground and NATO support strategies and does so well, though neither exploration offers a clear path to success, writes Joshua Huminski.
A
t the beginning of August 2024, Ukraine launched a bold operation into the Kursk oblast of Russia. According to Ukraine’s commander–in–chief, Gen. Oleksandr Syrskyi, the operation aimed to deny Russia Kursk as a launch pad for operations, divert Russian forces from the front in Ukraine, and to send a message to both the Ukrainian people and Ukraine’s western supporters—particularly the United States. As of this review’s writing, it is unclear whether this gambit will succeed, whether it will achieve Kyiv’s objectives, and how Moscow will respond. What is clear is that its initial success demonstrates Ukraine’s adaptation to a dynamic conflict, integration of hard–won battlefield lessons, and the evolving strategic dynamic between both Moscow and Kyiv—the subject of Maj.Gen. Mick Ryan’s new book “The War for Ukraine.” Roughly divided into two parts—strategy and adaptation—Ryan offers his analysis on how each country, and the West (meaning the United States and NATO), have performed and evolved in this conflict.
In the first section of the book, Ryan surveys the competing strategies for victory of Russia and Ukraine, and how each has changed in response to battlefield and political developments. He analyzes the foundations of each country’s strategy as well as the markedly different leadership styles. He also reflects on the United States’ and NATO’s strategy of support. In the second half, Ryan explores adaptation at the strategic, operational, and tactical levels of conflict.
For long–time readers of Ryan’s social media and writing, his approach and style will be familiar. It is ‘professional military education–light’—he offers clear commentary, with neatly itemized bullets and sub–sections, highlighting what he sees as the key, relevant observations. Ryan sets his commentary within established Western canon and smartly distinguishes lessons (observations) from lessons learned (observations implemented). Too often the latter is confused with the former. Of the two sections, his analysis of adaptation is stronger than that of strategy, though both are meaningful contributions to the literature. On strategy, Ryan interestingly argues that Ukraine is pursuing a campaign of ‘corrosion’ as opposed to annihilation or exhaustion, as German military historian Hans Delbrück, classified warfare. In Ryan’s telling, Kyiv aims to corrode Russia’s ability to wage war militarily, politically, and—via the West—economically, ensuring it cannot achieve its own theory of victory. It is an interesting conception and one that helps frame some, but not all, of Ukraine’s actions.
Ryan shrewdly avoids the techno–fetishism that populates many observations and commentaries. Strategy and adaptation are at their core decidedly human–centric, and technology is merely a tool. The side that is better prepared and designed institutionally and culturally to adapt in general is better prepared to adapt to technological innovations and developments. Here, he finds the Russian military’s centralized, top–down approach wanting. Ukraine’s horizontal networks of communication and proliferation of lessons, especially at the tactical level, are more responsive to changes. This is not to say that Russia does not or cannot adapt, merely that it takes longer and is often more inefficient. Ignoring Russian adaptation is very much a blind spot in Western analysis and commentary.
Ryan’s decision to focus on the military aspects of strategy and adaptation are sensible, though constraining. While he does touch upon the political leadership of both Russia and Ukraine, and each country’s respective efforts to court international support, the military activities as described in the book are largely disconnected from the political, despite those being central to each country’s strategy of victory. This represents a central challenge. Only part of the outcome Ryan outlines is achievable via military means. Yet, it is precisely those military means that set the conditions for the political outcome. Ryan misses a key distinction in Russia’s conception of the war—that it is merely one front in Moscow’s contest with the West. Indeed, President Vladimir Putin sees the United States specifically and NATO more broadly as at war with Russia. While Ryan does explore the broader tendrils of the war into the ‘Global South,’ that key Russian context is absent from his analysis or from almost any analysis. Viewing Ukraine in isolation makes sense from a Western point of view. It is the West’s central line of effort against Russia and the polestar toward which all political, economic, and military activities are oriented. It is also the lens through which relations with Moscow are viewed. It is, however, not how Russia views the fight, which is more important than how Washington sees or conceives of the conflict. How this war ends remains unclear and unanswered by Ryan. He writes that for Russia, victory means “the subjugation of the Ukrainian state, through a combination of occupation and political accommodation.” Kyiv, by contrast, must simply “undermine Russia’s theory of victory” through “will” and “endurance.” Ryan articulates a series of sub–objectives, which includes enmeshing Ukraine in a broader security architecture either bilaterally or multilaterally with eventual entry into NATO, and the rehabilitation and development of Ukraine’s democracy and economy.
For those looking for clear conceptions of victory or a satisfactory end state, neither theory of victory offers a path forward. Russia’s ability to destabilize Ukraine will remain for the foreseeable future. It may not—barring some catastrophic change in battlefield conditions—be able to conquer the entirety of the country, but it will remain able to launch punitive strikes on civilian targets and critical infrastructure. Even were Russia able to launch a breakout, the consolidation of the Ukrainian identity would ensure the nation would remain out of Moscow’s hands.
For Kyiv survival is akin, at least in Ryan’s telling, to victory. Again, not a wholly satisfying outcome for those expecting something more. Battlefield success is only one part—a necessary, but not sufficient part—of victory. Equally important in Ryan’s telling are security guarantees and economic reconstruction (rather self–evident), social rehabilitation and justice (which are decidedly less clear). Ukraine’s ability to resist Russian aggression now and in the future is overwhelmingly predicated on Western assistance and support, the pace of which Ryan and others are critical.
“The War for Ukraine” is an early benchmark against which other analyses of strategy and adaptation will be judged. Ryan delivers a grounded, measured look at what will drive Russian and Ukrainian success or failure, and it is the flexibility and agility of people and people–centric systems, not technology alone.
