According to the latest reports from ISW, in August 2026, Russian forces consolidated or seized approximately 90 square kilometers of Ukrainian territory across a front stretching over 1,000 kilometres. This figure is too small to suggest real battlefield momentum. However, it would be incorrect to interpret this as a pause in the war. It appears that Moscow is now measuring success not only by territory gained, but also by the ability of its economy, army and society to continue functioning for a longer time than those of Ukraine. The contest is now being fought through refineries, drones, air defense stocks, industrial capacity, and political timing. In this sense, the Duma elections on 18–20 September are not a dull domestic affair. They are one of the arenas in which the resilience of Moscow’s war machine is being tested. The ruling party got there with its weakest support in four years, against a backdrop of macroeconomic stagnation, a demoralizing Ukrainian strike campaign and a growing sense that the war is no closer to an end than before.
The adaptation race
Western commentary often portrays Russia as the slower learner in this war, a force more likely to imitate Ukrainian innovation than to drive it forward. Yet this view misses a broader pattern. In much of military history, adaptation has often mattered more than invention, and Russia’s experience in Ukraine is no exception.
Russian units were early adopters of fiber-optic FPV drones: cable-guided systems resistant to electronic jamming because the signal travels through a physical fiber rather than a radio link. Ukraine later introduced similar systems, including versions with AI-assisted visual guidance that allow drones to keep moving towards a target after losing connection. Russian units then began experimenting with physical interception and cable-cutting once electronic warfare alone was no longer enough.
That does not make Russia the more innovative side. It does suggest that the Russian army has become better at moving some battlefield lessons through the system. Rubicon is part of that effort. Established by the Russian Ministry of Defense in August 2024, the center was designed to bring together research, procurement, training and operational practice for unmanned systems. Its importance lies less in any single technology than in the attempt to turn scattered battlefield improvisation into a more organized process. What began as an effort focused on elite drone units has since expanded into a broader hub for aerial, ground and naval unmanned systems, including training and deployment. Its creation also reflected Russia’s response to Ukraine’s “Drone Line” initiative and the growing effectiveness of Ukrainian drone units.
Read also: The expansion of cognitive warfare, and how to cope with it
Russian infantry tactics have evolved under the same pressure. Mechanized columns defined the opening phase of the war. By 2023, they had largely given way to infantry assaults that absorbed heavy casualties for limited gains, fueling the conflict’s reputation as a “meat grinder”. By early 2025, continuing losses of armored vehicles had pushed some Russian units toward assaults using civilian trucks and motorcycles. A more stripped-down approach followed: teams of two to four soldiers moving at night, often with radios silent, to avoid troop concentrations that Ukrainian drones can detect and strike quickly. The ongoing demand for manpower is driving both armies to prioritize ground robotics, though not to the same extent. Ukraine has identified the development of unmanned ground systems as a strategic priority, with plans to supply tens of thousands of these systems to frontline units by 2026. This initiative aims to transition more logistics and evacuation missions away from soldiers.
Russia is also pursuing this agenda, albeit from a different position. It has begun deploying ground robots for logistics, reconnaissance, mine-related tasks and fire support, while Rubicon and other structures are working to integrate unmanned systems into a more coherent military ecosystem. At present, these systems are still limited by issues relating to communications, navigation and survivability. Their significance lies less in any immediate battlefield breakthrough than in what they reveal about the direction of the war: smaller units, more dispersion, more automation and fewer safe concentrations of force.
When infrastructure becomes strategy
The war in Ukraine has become a contest between two theories of attrition. One focuses on the rapid growth of drone production and the use of artificial intelligence to make strikes more precise and persistent. The other is based on a strategy of punishment, with the aim of targeting critical infrastructure and major political and economic centers in order to exhaust the opponent’s capacity to continue.
The campaign against Russian oil infrastructure has had implications for military logistics and the army’s fuel supply, but its significance extends beyond the battlefield. It is also a way to bring the war closer to Russia’s fiscal system and, more discreetly, to Russian society itself. By August 2026, Ukrainian strikes had repeatedly targeted refineries and export infrastructure, including the Baltic terminals at Primorsk and Ust-Luga. It is estimated that a considerable proportion of Russia’s export capacity has been impacted. The effect is visible but not yet decisive; Moscow has demonstrated its capacity to withstand adversity, redirect resources, and maintain operational continuity. Ukraine’s campaign is therefore best understood as part of a broader strategy of attrition. While it may now be imposing real costs on Russia’s economy, this should not be interpreted as evidence of imminent economic collapse.
Read also: The unlearned lessons of war: Four years since the invasion of Ukraine
Moscow is applying a similar logic against Ukraine’s more exposed power system. Russia’s missile and drone campaign is a form of coercive pressure aimed at infrastructure, cities and the state’s ability to function. Russia’s attack patterns are likely shaped by geographic proximity as well as the strategic value of its targets. Repeated attacks on power plants, transmission networks and substations consume repair capacity, deplete equipment stocks and narrow Ukraine’s resilience margins. They also force Kyiv to spend air-defense ammunition, political attention and civilian endurance on keeping the system running. The campaign is not designed to deliver a single decisive blow, but to keep the country under continuous strain, and the growing scale and frequency of strikes only reaffirm that Russia’s coercive logic relies on persistence.
Moscow’s network of convenience
Russia’s ability to endure also depends on how much of the war’s cost Moscow can push outward, onto partners that supply ammunition, technology, markets, geography or diplomatic cover without formally joining the war. What has emerged around Moscow is a network of convenience, useful precisely because its members do not need to share the same war aims. Together, they help Russia spread the costs of a long war without forcing any partner to assume the full political risk of joining it.
North Korea has gone the furthest. According to Ukrainian and South Korean intelligence reports, Pyongyang has supplied ammunition and missiles, as well as thousands of troops, some of whom have been deployed in or around the Kursk region. North Korea is helping Russia to absorb some of the war’s most immediate costs, such as shells, manpower, and battlefield labor. In return, North Korea receives money, technology, diplomatic protection and direct experience of a war fought with drones, surveillance, artillery and electronic warfare.
A different form of support has come from Iran. Initially, its involvement was evident in the form of drones and loitering munitions, but the relationship has evolved into something more intricate than merely supplying weapons to Moscow. Russia has adapted Iranian designs, expanded domestic production, and strengthened military-industrial ties with Tehran. These two sanctioned states are learning from each other, sharing knowledge on how to move components, evade restrictions, improvise supply chains, and transform isolation into military cooperation.
Above all, Belarus matters because of its geography. It provides Russia with depth, access and a permanent threat from the north. Even when Minsk is not decisive on the battlefield, it forces Ukraine, and NATO, to maintain a watchful eye on a potentially quiet front.
Finally, the People’s Republic of China occupies the most important and most careful position. By avoiding the open supply of lethal weapons to Russia, Beijing has helped to limit the risk to its commercial relationships with Europe and the United States. However, caution is not neutrality. China buys Russian energy, provides Moscow with economic stability, and remains a vital channel for dual-use goods and components that enable Russian industry to operate under sanctions.
A note on the evidence
Any evaluation of Russia’s strategy must commence with the issue of evidence. The war has been extensively documented, but not transparently so. Estimates of territory, casualty figures and damage assessments are often derived from Ukrainian intelligence, Russian claims, satellite imagery, useful but incomplete open-source analysis and Western institutions that combine these inputs. This is particularly relevant in terms of manpower. According to reports from Ukrainian authorities, Russian casualties amounted to approximately 1,300 to 1,400 killed and wounded per day from August to early September 2026. The figure has not been independently verified, and Kyiv has a clear interest in publicizing Russian attrition. However, the broader perspective is not without merit: Western assessments have also described Russian losses as exceptionally high for a war of this duration.
The same caution applies to reports that Moscow may seek hundreds of thousands of additional troops across 2026 and 2027. The most precise figures appear to be based on Ukrainian intelligence rather than independent Western confirmation. While their conclusions may ultimately be vindicated, it is crucial to approach their findings with a critical eye and not to accept them unquestioningly.
Read also: Russia 2026: the Potemkin Elections
It is generally accepted that Kremlin behavior can be more easily interpreted than the numbers. Moscow has so far avoided making any formal mobilization announcements before the Duma vote on 18-20 September. The events of September 2022 continue to resonate: the call-up led to a significant number of Russian citizens opting to leave the country, significantly impacting the ability to maintain a separation between the war and daily life. For Putin, the danger is not only limited to the battlefield. This is the situation in Russia where the human cost of continuing the war has become apparent once more.
What comes next
It seems unlikely that the next phase will be determined by a single battlefield decision. The war can still move in several directions. Moscow could continue to engage in high-intensity conflict, relying on its industrial base, manpower reserves and external support to outlast those of Ukraine. There is a possibility that the conflict will gradually shift towards a lower intensity, becoming less dramatic on a daily basis. However, it will still be sufficient to maintain pressure on Ukraine and delay its recovery. If either side feels that the current balance is politically or militarily unsustainable, they could each choose to escalate the situation.
The evidence suggests that the Kremlin is not necessarily pursuing a race for victory, but rather attempting to exploit the passage of time in its favor; a war that continues without resolution can still serve Moscow’s interests if it maintains instability in Ukraine, diverts Western attention, and delays the point at which Russia faces the constraints of its capabilities.
The outcome of the Duma vote, any post-election mobilization, the winter campaign against Ukraine’s energy system will not determine the outcome of the war. The results will indicate whether the Kremlin will be able to continue its current strategy of prolonging the conflict, distributing its costs and transforming endurance into a viable plan of action.