The most terrifying thing about Putin is not that he’s delusional, but that he might be right
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In a tone that veered between defiant proclamation and cold calculation, Vladimir Putin’s 2024 “state of the nation” address offered yet another window into his ideological grounding for the war against Ukraine. Through rose-tinted spectacles, Putin delivered a narrative that paints the war and the world as he wishes them to be. He positioned himself as the arbiter of a new world order, one where Russia’s ideological crusade against Ukraine is not just justified but celebrated, and where the West’s faltering resolve provides the perfect backdrop for his ambitions.
Dismissing American overtures toward strategic stability as nothing more than political posturing, Putin has treated the West’s attempts at diplomacy with contempt, framing them as a desperate bid to cling to fading global hegemony. Emboldened by Western weakness, he appears to interpret any diplomatic efforts as signs of desperation rather than genuine attempts at peace.
He addressed the spectre of (unrealistic) Nato involvement in Ukraine with his usual mixture of historical analogy and nuclear threat. In evoking past interventions on Russian lands, Putin’s message is two-fold: Ukraine is Russian land and Russia is ready to escalate to the highest stakes, implicitly threatening nuclear conflict as a deterrent against Western intervention. This is undoubtedly a message designed for the de-escalationists close to power in Washington DC and Berlin.
On the military front, Putin’s address brims with a confidence that borders on hubris. Boasting of advancements in Russia’s strategic and tactical arsenal – from hypersonic missiles to nuclear readiness – he paints a picture of a military machine not only prepared for conflict but actively shaping the very nature of warfare. This narrative of unassailable military might is designed to reinforce domestic support but it also reflects Putin’s extreme confidence.
My travels across Donbas and Kharkiv region these last two weeks have shown that this confidence may not be entirely misplaced. Ukrainians are lacking the men and equipment to defend themselves, as American politicians stall on the latest military aid package and the Europeans fail to deliver on their promises. The commander of 32nd Brigade, fighting close to Kramatorsk and Lyman acknowledged these difficulties and bristled at any suggestion that the Russians could not innovate or were irreparably weakened from their admittedly considerable losses in Avdiivka. The Russians are taking an operational pause, but the Donetsk and Luhansk border regions, for which 32nd brigade are responsible, are a strategic objective.
Characteristically, Putin did not mention the enormous losses in Avdiivka, or the heavy toll paid in Russian – and, of course, Ukrainian – lives as part of his ideological crusade to reunify lands that long ago became the legally recognised territory of other states. The only real acknowledgment of Russia’s internal challenges centred on the issue of poverty. The announcement of the “Family” national project is a nod to the need for domestic stability, an attempt to balance the scales of military might with social welfare. It’s a recognition that the Russian people’s support and acquiescence to this war carries a certain cost. In the “Family” project, Putin is writing the cheque that buys off the poorest section of the population, which is also the demographic most likely to disapprove of the war.
Putin’s address, therefore, is not just a declaration of ideological and military intent but also reflective of a strategy for managing the sustainability of the war among the population. Hopes for a Russian uprising of popular resentment against the costs of the war remain elusive. It would appear, unsurprisingly, that the Russian presidential administration have a much clearer-headed understanding of their population than many of its would-be liberal democratic saviours.
In this light, Putin’s address to the Federal Assembly is more than just a speech; it’s a further codification of his manifesto for an era of Russian assertiveness, grounded in the belief that the West’s indecision is Russia’s opportunity. It is a strong argument, one that strikes as incredibly convincing the more I speak to soldiers here in Ukraine and the more time I spend close to the front.
Putin believes the West is a declining force, a belief that enables his aggressive stance in Ukraine. The increasingly fragmented international response to a war that has lasted a decade has only served to embolden him further, reinforcing his belief that in the geopolitical chess game, he is the one making the boldest moves. The fact that he is not wrong and that he may ultimately win should remind us that Putin is not the only one who views the war and the world through rose-tinted spectacles. Many in the West, safe from the missiles and shelling, appear to suffer the same affliction.
