Political context and military reform
To regard the collapse of the Soviet Union as the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 20th century1 is not the exclusive preserve of its communist ideologues. Any Russian nationalist concerned with their country’s defence (not to mention its prestige and power) would think the same. In the First World War and its aftermath, Russia lost Finland, the Baltic states, Poland and Bessarabia, leaving vital economic and political centres perilously close to its western frontiers. Much of this territory was recovered prior to the German invasion of 1941, but, despite increased strategic depth, in that year the enemy reached the gates of Leningrad and Moscow, overran most of Ukraine and almost won the war. Having already lost its Warsaw Pact buffer, with the break-up of the USSR Russia lost the Baltic states, Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova, and its three Caucasian and five Central Asian republics. NATO moved into the European part of the vacuum thus created, right up to the Russian, Belarusian and Ukrainian borders, and is viewed by Russia as working to draw Georgia and Ukraine into its web.
President Putin – as a historically aware Russian nationalist – has never regarded the independence of Russia’s former provinces and republics as a serious and lasting proposition. While not looking to restore the USSR, he sees the Russia’s ‘near abroad’ as falling within its rightful sphere of influence and consequently enjoying only limited sovereignty. To the Russian eye, NATO and EU enlargements are simply land grabs in the guise of liberal principles. Furthermore, Putin feels acutely his country’s strategic vulnerability now that, under his leadership, Russia has ceased to be meekly subservient to what he regards as Western dominance. An attack from without would doubtless be preceded by, or coupled with, externally promoted subversion from within. His adversaries are believed to be keen on sponsoring further ‘colour revolution’ to produce regime change in Russia itself. Putin also regards the alienation of Russian lands in 1991 as a historic wrong that must, when possible, be put right. The Russian armed forces must be ready, always, to react to sudden opportunities or threats to its controlling position in its ‘near abroad’ (as it did in 2008 in Georgia, and 2014 in Crimea and Donbas).
Russia perceives itself to be in a position of military weakness somewhat analogous to that of the USSR in the 1920s and 1930s. It is surrounded by enemies, especially in the West, and in that direction it once again lacks the strategic depth that can be traded for time. The principal compensatory means that another country might have chosen would possibly be political and diplomatic. These instruments of policy are, however, circumscribed by post-Soviet Russia’s renewed hostility to the West. This was first clearly evidenced in Putin’s speech at the 2007 Munich Security Conference,2 and has latterly been aggravated by its involvement in Ukraine and the unwelcome light that this shines on other activities in the ‘near abroad’, not to mention the Russian intervention in Syria. Putin’s Russia is content to take a confrontational stance – not least, it would seem, for domestic political reasons.
From the early 1990s, the Russian military had suffered variously through government neglect, considerable popular hostility, corruption, and some refusal within the officer corps to face the need for change. Unsurprisingly, it put up a poor performance in the Georgian war of 2008. The Putin administration, encouraged by increasingly buoyant economic growth, embarked on a fast-paced, intensive programme of reform and modernization. Defence expenditure grew both in absolute terms and as a proportion of GDP, only levelling off in 2016 despite a worsening economic downturn which had become a full recession in 2015.3 The allocation to defence had been reduced to the equivalent of 4 per cent of GDP by 2017, and was forecast to stand at 3.5 per cent of GDP in both 2018 and 2019.4 There is little reason to believe that this level would be unsustainable throughout the realization of the State Armament Programme for 2018–27 – or GPV 2027 – provided the economy grows about at 1.5 per cent per year and the oil price does not drop below approximately $40 per barrel.5 That this level of commitment precludes significant allocations for improvements in other critical areas such as education and public health is seemingly viewed within the Kremlin as a price worth paying.
Structural reform was the first, basic necessity in reinvigorating the military. In 2008 the Russian legacy force from the Soviet era amounted to 1,890 large units,6 most of which were of cadre form (i.e. held at skeleton manning in peacetime and requiring several weeks to flesh out with reservists in order to reach war establishment and receive the training necessary to operate with even minimal effectiveness on the battlefield). Post-reform, the army was reduced to 172 large units, partly by removing a layer of command and partly by eliminating cadre units from the order of battle:7 all units are now supposed to be fully manned in peacetime and maintained in a permanent state of combat readiness. As a consequence of this restructuring, there was a large-scale reduction in the number of officers required: in 2008 there was a shortfall of 40,000; and in 2010 there was a surplus in the much smaller, rationalized army despite the elimination of graduate conscription of officers. This reduced army resulted in further savings, for instance with the number of officer training establishments being cut from 65 to 10.8 There were complementary reductions and rationalization in the hitherto cumbersome logistics system. Military command structures were also slimmed down and rationalized. The 16 Soviet-era military districts were reduced initially to six and subsequently – from 2010 – to four. These are now joint operational–strategic as well as administrative headquarters; there is also a fifth such command for the Arctic.9
In his recent paper assessing the likely durability of Russian military power, Michael Kofman asserts that an increase in armed forces personnel between 2011 and 2017, from some 700,000 to more than 900,000, was achieved despite a decline – arising from falling birth rates through the 1990s – in the overall number of 18-year-olds available for service at this time.10 Doubtless the process was aided by a crackdown on corruption in the Military Commissariat responsible for conscription, which saw exemptions on medical grounds fall substantially.11 Recruitment of contract service personnel was also boosted by improved pay and conditions of service, together with a restoration of the prestige of the military. By 2017 there were said to be some 380,000 regular soldiers, more than half of the total, although Russian figures remain open to interpretation.12
The cost savings resulting from restructuring, combined with increased military spending, have enabled a growth in capability, especially in the western and southwestern strategic directions – the primary areas of strategic concern. In 2013 the Western and Southern Military Districts contained four army and two corps headquarters, two divisions and 15 motor-rifle/tank brigades. By mid-2017 there were six army and two corps headquarters, five divisions, and 17 or 18 manoeuvre brigades. The secondary importance of the vast Central and Eastern Military Districts is illustrated by the fact that in 2017 they contained only one division and 10 motor-rifle brigades.13 The airborne forces, which are high-command assets rather than subordinate to military districts, are in the process of increasing their establishment from under 40,000 personnel to around 60,000 by 2020.14 The increase in operational-level command entities will enhance Russian flexibility and sustainability at the critical operational level. The aim of modernizing 30 per cent of the armed forces’ equipment by the end of 2015 was considerably exceeded, if Russian Ministry of Defence statistics are to be believed, despite the loss of important Ukrainian components and the impact of Western sanctions. The proportion actually achieved, according to Russia’s Ministry of Defence, was 47 per cent by the end of 2015, and 59.5 per cent by the end of 2017.15 The stated intention now is to reach 70 per cent by 2020, and the defence ministry appears confident of achieving this goal ahead of time.16 This precedence given to defence in a period of continuing economic decline – and despite the effects of Western sanctions – suggests that Moscow is unlikely to ease its confrontational stance towards the West for the foreseeable future.17
Russia’s adversarial posture vis-à-vis the West is the corollary of the country’s sense of grievance over what it regards as its dismissive, even humiliating treatment since the disintegration of the Soviet Union and its consequent revisionist predisposition. This necessarily carries with it a preparedness for armed conflict, or even a willingness to use its armed forces aggressively. The rearmament and reorganization currently under way is plainly not designed for a purely reactive, defensive posture. Nor would such a stance make military sense for a state that sees itself as being surrounded by enemies, shorn of its strategic depth and suffering a legacy of painful historical experience, and with ambitions to revise at least elements of the post-Cold War status quo. The Russian military is thus oriented towards offensive action, with an admixture of the defensive.