In less than a year, the tone and emphasis shifted dramatically. On February 29, Vladimir Putin delivered his annual state-of-the-nation address to the Federal Assembly, a gathering that unites lawmakers from Russia’s two chambers. There, in Gostiny Dvor—the grand neoclassical trading hall built during Catherine the Great’s era and visible from Moscow’s Red Square—Putin spoke as if the winds of war were turning in Moscow’s favor, while he outlined a plan to widen the war Russia had already committed to across its borders.
Nodding to the audience, he declared, “Our Armed Forces have expanded their combat capabilities by leaps and bounds; we have regained the initiative and we will not relinquish it.” Beyond battlefield tactics, Putin painted a future in which Russia would stand as a guiding beacon and a stronghold for traditional values. “Our choices are supported by a majority of people around the world, including many in the West,” he asserted, alluding to ultra-right pro-Russian forces in Europe and the United States.
The practical upshot of this renewed momentum in the Kremlin soon appeared through the actions of Dmitri Medvedev, the deputy secretary of the Security Council, who took on the role of spokesperson for more hard-edged ideas. “Our president gave a concise, precise command: Russia’s borders do not end anywhere,” he emphasized, drawing cheers from the audience. Moments later, he presented an imagined map of eastern Europe in which Russia’s territory occupied nearly three-quarters of present-day Ukraine, with the remaining parts allocated to Hungary and Poland, leaving Kyiv as a nominally independent buffer state. Shortly after, in an interview, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov began issuing warnings toward Moldova, cautioning its authorities about following Ukraine’s path.
Kremlin’s Revelry
Observers quickly noted a renewed assertiveness from Moscow. The Russian elite seemed to take evident satisfaction in watching Western divisions widen as the government stands firm, a trend reported by El Periódico de Cataluña of the Prensa Ibérica group. In interviews with lawmakers, analysts remarked that Putin displayed greater composure than a year earlier, with Tatiana Stanóvaya, a Russian political scientist, describing the speech as lacking the explosive emotion of the prior year but carrying a steadier, more controlled tone.
Is this grounded in reality, or is the Kremlin misreading events as it did before the invasion? Carmen Claudín, a longtime observer of Soviet history, suggests that those in charge may be momentarily blinded by desire rather than fact. Russia has not secured battlefield victories so much as it has gained territory with fading Western support for Kyiv. Claudín warns that this mood could fuel Western fatalism—the belief that the war is already decided—a risk Moscow appears keen to exploit and shape.
Recent appearances by the regime’s two leading figures offered additional clues about Moscow’s objectives and the tactics used to keep the spotlight on its aims. The Kremlin’s leader seems calm, while Medvedev has assumed a hawk role, signaling new territorial ambitions. “It’s a script, a split cast; Medvedev says some of the most alarming things,” Claudín notes, adding that the dynamic resembles an old political play from years past, with roles reversed at times.
This good-police versus bad-police dynamic—an old tactic psychologists say can create confusion so concessions become acceptable in negotiations—was played out by the same figures more than a decade ago, from 2008 to 2012, though with swapped roles. Putin then ran the government from the prime minister’s seat, while Medvedev spoke of liberalism and modernization. The outcome, observers say, was Europe and the United States speculating about a supposed liberal faction within the Russian elite, a narrative that events since have largely debunked.
Medvedev’s bold rhetoric also points to other motives. Yevhen Fedchenko, director of Stop Fake, a Ukrainian project that debunks Kremlin-originated misinformation, argues that such language is meant to sow fear and paralyze Western public opinion, which increasingly views the war as an existential threat to their own security. He notes that these outbursts coincide with several EU members moving to address ammunition shortages at the front, including establishing a fund to quickly procure 800,000 artillery rounds in non-EU states. France and Poland are among those governments that have not ruled out sending troops into combat if necessary.
From a distance, many wonder whether this display of bravado is shared by the entire elite and whether partial battlefield gains are consolidating Kremlin support around Putin. In Moscow, a policy researcher with access to the elite said in a confidential conversation that there was no euphoria, only a sense of unity around the president amid sanctions and isolation. “There’s nowhere to go; sanctions push the elite toward consolidation.”
These threads of rhetoric and behavior illustrate a broader pattern. The leadership uses a mix of calculated bravado and measured restraint to keep Western attention focused on Russia’s terms while laying the groundwork for political and military maneuvering believed necessary to sustain Kremlin control in a shifting security landscape. It remains to be seen how long this balance can hold as external pressures, economic strains, and internal public sentiment continue to shape Moscow’s choices.