Russia has long framed its response around the suffering of civilians in Iraq and, in a similar vein, Kosovo, while keeping a clear focus on national security interests. As anniversaries of major operations approached, Russian analysts and policymakers frequently argued that conflict bred chaos in Iraq due to enduring hostilities. They highlighted civilian casualties in the hundreds of thousands and pointed to guerrilla warfare and civil strife linked to the American presence.
Meanwhile, analysts studying Operation Allied Force emphasized the environmental and humanitarian costs of the Kosovo conflict, noting radioactive contamination from depleted uranium munitions, thousands of Serbs killed, disappeared, or injured, and ethnic cleansing in the Kosovo province. They also drew attention to increases in cancer rates among Serbs and to damage to rivers and air quality attributed to NATO actions.
Taken together, many in the political class and the political science community tended to foreground a vivid critique of U.S. imperialism and European hegemony in these debates.
A natural question arises: who benefits from this framing? For Western audiences, the narrative often seems detached or inconsequential, and a plaintive cadence rarely shifts perception. If such political discussions aim at native audiences, the need to persuade is substantially lower.
There are questions about the qualifications of those who present these facts. It can be suggested that no specialized training or in-depth military analysis is strictly required to engage in these discussions.
Beyond rhetorical impact, the usefulness of such arguments remains uncertain. In short, what practical value do tales of imperial aggression hold for Russia, and under what conditions might they matter? The expectation of a measurable impact on strategic outcomes is often low and sometimes zero.
Consequently, the focus on defining wars and armed conflicts, particularly among political figures and scholars, should shift toward new areas and directions.
For instance, during NATO’s Yugoslavia campaign, the B-2A Spirit stealth bomber and the precision-guided GBU-31 JDAM bombs were introduced in actual combat. The 904 kg JDAMs featured Navstar-guided updates. It has been roughly a quarter century since then. Russia, by contrast, has not fielded a direct analogue to the B-2A Spirit or the JDAM, and the U.S. has moved forward with a successor, the B-21 Raider, slated for deployment. Meanwhile, discussions inside Russia largely centered on the plight of the Yugoslav people rather than on comparable innovations in long-range aviation.
Similarly, on the eve of Operation Iraqi Freedom, planners studied the potential of JSTARS radar reconnaissance aircraft for ground situation awareness. By mid-January 2003 a group of five E-8C jets stood in the crisis zone to monitor the battlefield. Two decades later, Russia’s air force did not replicate this capability on the same timeline, while debates about Iraqi unification and civil conflict persisted in public discourse.
In 2003, the Pentagon sought to construct a global information network and pioneer network-centric warfare, signaling a new style of armed engagement. Whether Russia achieved similar momentum remains a matter of assessment.
There are many such examples. Some critics argue that these concerns belong to a narrow circle of experts. Yet the topic touches broad segments of society, from cultural institutions to the national memory of states.
Given the current urgency, Russia faces strategic questions about its own aircraft programs and cultural institutions. A credible long-range bomber, if pursued, should be balanced with the sustainment of national heritage and civil society. The direction of public discourse on such topics should be more measured and purposeful.
The author’s perspective may differ from the editors’ stance.