Admiral Kuznetsov, at one time, was a vessel to be jealous of, a home of Soviet glories in the seas, a product to brag about to the world, and an aircraft carrier that clearly expressed the power of the USSR. Its fabrication, which dated back to 1985, was, however, interrupted in the early 90s when the ship had already been sent out for its first journey, so it was assumed to be a vehicle of the Soviet Union’s capacity and power.

On the contrary, it has hardly been able to celebrate its professional life, being more associated with obstructions, incidents, and the ever-increasing repair expenses than with any period of continuous operational work.

The ship had been having problems from the very beginning. The circulating mazut is a heavy fuel with characteristics similar to tar and is very inefficient as well as very hard on the engines. Thus, unlike the U.S. nuclear-powered carriers, Kuznetsov is very noisy and dirty. White, electrical, and engine problems have been so common that tugboats have become co-travelers of such ships.

The carrier’s bad combat history is just one more reason for them to question her. Her inability to function correctly was the reason why the disappearance of several planes took place in her 2016 mission off the coast of Syria, rather than enemy attacks, to be more precise, short circuits in the arrestor wires and old launchers are the causes of the loss.

Not only the ship but also the people who built and maintained her have been affected by the years that have passed, and the wear and tear that has changed the ship’s worries about a severe accident on board has spread. Consequently, Kuznetsov has often been characterized by accident-prone rather than war-prone issues by the people outside the naval profession.

In 2017, the carrier got a permit to enter the dry dock at Murmansk in order to have a long-overdue renewal. Problems grew worse instead of abating during the repair period. One crisis that happened in 2018 was the sinking of the floating dock, which not only pulled a large crane down the ship’s deck but also caused serious damage as a result of the impact.

Since then, there have been other accidents that plague the progress of the rehabilitation, including multiple fires—some with fatal outcomes—that caused even greater delays. Hardly ever was there cooperation between the time due for the repairs to begin and the time when the work would actually start. Moreover, rumors stating that the labor has gradually come to a halt, and that an internal debate about the rescue of the ship rather than the shutting down of it has simmered, have also appeared.

Keeping Kuznetsov from sinking is no longer a question of engineering skills but one of strategy. The war in Ukraine has been, in several ways, a setback for the Russian navy, consuming budget allocations, depriving the navy of certain resources, and making it difficult for the navy to get some technical parts under sanctions easily.

Notwithstanding that, there are currently some reasons for wondering whether carriers will still have a place in the world of computer-guided missiles and drones. Ex-PacFleet boss Admiral Sergei Avakyants has even gone to the lengths of designating carriers “relics,” i.e., dead systems, and suggesting that future navies ought to be more heavily reliant on unmanned fighters and bombers.

Officially, carriers are still part of the plans for the Northern/Southern Fleet of Russia, but without any ongoing new building project and with the destiny of Kuznetsov gradually increasing in doubt, that goal seems far away. The evolution of the ship’s disasters has become a mirror of the issues that the Russian navy is facing on a bigger scale: rundown infrastructures, shortage of capital, and a steadily weakening production line.

Apart from that, as other big powers are increasing their car supply and going ahead with updating, Russia’s single ship looks like it is getting close to the scrapheap. Should that be the case, Admiral Kuznetsov will not be a memory of a powerful flag, but rather of a warning—a dream compromised by technical bugs, money shortage, and the changes in modern naval warfare.

If you think that wars are only about tanks and trenches, you are wrong. The war under the shadow of the Russian invasion of Ukraine is the most tenacious and tricky one, but it is not fought on the battlefield. Schools that were once pure havens of learning and delight have become fighting arenas for a conflict that goes against the Ukrainian character, which wants to reprogram the children’s brains and to make them the army of tomorrow. It is to be scared and to break one’s heart all at once, and it happens exactly here and now.

When Russian soldiers rolled into Ukrainian lands, they did not merely bring firearms—new textbooks, new flags, and a purpose to redefine the very essence of childhood. Russian occupying forces have systematically replaced the education system of Ukraine with Russia’s, Human Rights Watch says, teaching the Russian official curriculum in the Russian language and prohibiting Ukrainian education in occupied territories. It is not just a bureaucratic re-shuffle; it is a breach of international law, an overt assault on the right of children to learn in their own language and to acquire respect for their own cultural identity.

But it’s more than language. The Russian new curriculum is a masterclass in propaganda. History textbooks no longer assert that there is Ukrainian statehood and language, and maps are redone to indicate the Ukrainian territories as part of Russia. The so-called “Maidan” uprising is painted as a bloody coup orchestrated by Western puppeteers, and the full-scale invasion of 2022 is described as a “Special Military Operation” to save “Russian civilization.” If you’re a Ukrainian kid in these classrooms, your own country’s story is being erased before your eyes.

And woe betide anyone who resists. Teachers who refuse to cooperate face threats, arbitrary detention, and even torture. A director of a school in the Kherson region was arrested for 40 days and assaulted for not cooperating. Students who dare to speak Ukrainian can be punished or kidnapped—one boy from Melitopol was expelled from town with a sack over his head for speaking his native language. Parents are threatened with fines, removal of their children, or even worse if they do not send their children to Russian schools. Some parents flee into hiding, fearing their children will be removed or they’ll be drafted into the Russian military.

And yeah, militarization is a definite reality. As reported by the Georgetown University Collaborative on Global Children’s Issues, Russian officials have forcibly deported and militarized thousands of Ukrainian children, channelling them into paramilitary groups such as the “Youth Army” (Yunarmiya), the “Movement of the First,” and “Eagles of Russia”. These organizations do more than instill patriotism—they train children as young as six in arms, tactics, and drone operation, while indoctrinating them in glorification of Russian war “heroes” and demonization of the West. The objective? To get Ukrainian kids ready to battle their homeland.

The psychic cost is massive. Think about being a kid, uprooted from your home, coerced into reciting a foreign national anthem, and informed that all you’ve ever known and believed is a fabrication. As per a review in Nature, kids faced with war, displacement, and trauma have a heightened danger of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and developmental delay. The interruption of education, the displacement from family, and the ever-present danger of violence combine to create a perfect storm for lasting psychological damage. And for those who are abducted or indoctrinated, the wounds may remain for life.

But amidst this assault, there are flashes of resistance and hope. Ukrainian officials, civil society actors, and international bodies have been laboring to record abuses, assist victim families, and keep the light of Ukrainian education burning—despite the occupation. Websites, underground schools, and networks of heroic educators are allowing children to study secretly, frequently at considerable personal cost. The government of Ukraine has also streamlined registration processes for displaced children and is implementing mental health support initiatives to assist children and educators in recovering.

But the obstacles are huge. Russian officials have shut down Ukrainian online learning platforms, seized equipment, and punished families caught attempting to maintain their children’s links with home. Teachers who remained behind to guard their pupils are frequently in a state of limbo—cooperate and become branded as traitors, or resist and suffer brutality from occupying troops.

The world has referred to these actions by what they are: war crimes. The International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for Russian President Vladimir Putin and Children’s Rights Commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova for their implication in the illegal deportation and forced adoption of Ukrainian children. Justice is slow, though, and for each child repatriated, hundreds of others remain stuck in the machinery of occupation and indoctrination.

So the next time you consider war, keep this in mind: it’s not about politics or land. It’s about the struggle for children’s futures, hearts, and minds. In Ukraine, it’s unfolding in every home, playground, and school where a child imagines freedom. And its result will determine not only the destiny of a country, but the essence of a generation.

The T-90M main battle tank is the most controversial extreme modern Russian post-processed armored fighting vehicle. Known as “Proryv,” or “Breakthrough,” it is meant to show that Russia is still able to make a tank that is equal to the top of the world design list. It is a weapon. It is also an icon—something that represents the fact that there is still a heavy armor war traveling the battlegrounds today.

It’s not some retired Soviet tank from the days of old. The T-90M is a development of the design of the older tanks in pretty much everything except for a few aspects. It’s centered around the 125mm 2A46M-5 smoothbore cannon that can fire any amount of ammunition, including and starting at the 9M119M Refleks missile, up to five kilometers.

The Kalina fire control system contains a thermal imager and a laser rangefinder in the same package to give day-and-night capability to the tank’s fire. It is armored around its 1,130-horsepower V-92S2F diesel engine and can travel around 45 miles per hour with an operating range of perhaps 340 miles—close enough and far enough to maintain pace without constant re-fueling.

Armor has been upgraded as well. Relikt explosive reactive armor protection against novel anti-tank rounds, and the turret is redesigned with new electronics and digital fire control. Additional room for crew inside and a superior automatic loader reduce fatigue on lengthy operations. It is paper-for-paper equal to Western competitors such as the M1 Abrams or Leopard, 2 lagging in advanced sensors and battle networking.

Obviously, a tank is something that can’t be tested on paper. In the Syrian and Ukrainian theaters, the T-90M has been pretty well beaten, but it has a defect. Perhaps the most critical flaw is an anachronism of the old Soviet tank autoloader school of design, having ammunition in front of the crew deck.

If it is penetrated by such a round—especially from the top, by weapons like the Javelin or small attack drones—it has a high likelihood of actually causing cataclysmic chain reactions, Tank and crew smitherized. Military commentator Isaac Seitz simply said, “It’s just as susceptible to ammo cook-offs as the older models.”

Drone warfare also caused difficulties for tank troops. Inexpensive, lightweight FPV drones were unexpectedly effective at locating soft targets. The initial T-90Ms had no adequate countermeasures against them, and kamikaze missions—ramming into isolated tanks without electronic warfare support—posted astronomical casualty lists. As Seitz later put it, “even the best tank is a dead tank if it’s sent in alone.”

At the same time, Russia increased production at the Uralvagonzavod factory in Nizhny Tagil. The plant is now running around the clock, producing dozens—if not dozens—of T-90Ms annually, compared to a paltry 60–70 in 2022. Though copious defense expenditures subsidize this, sanctions have rendered it a difficult proposition for factories to obtain high-tech components, and factories have had no option but to rely more and more on indigenous production. They need very skilled engineers and machinists in bulk to keep the manufacturing process active.

Meanwhile, the vehicle itself has been upgraded. In the past three years, perhaps 200 upgrades have been fitted, from electronic warfare pods to anti-drone netting and extra armoured plates. Some models have even been equipped with the Arena-M active protection system, which will strike incoming missiles even before they reach the vehicle. The factory claims that today’s T-90Ms are barely comparable with what it was making two or three years ago.

Price is also a determining factor in popularity. Costing about $4.5 million per tank—a cheaper tank than an M1 Abrams—it has drawn the attention of the likes of India and Algeria. Its foreign export earnings fund production as well as filter into overseas markets.

Finally, the T-90M is a weapon, but Russia sees the future of theb. It is a reminder that body armor will never be an antiquated technology in this era of drones, guided missiles, and cyber warfare. Its value tomorrow will be determined by whether or not it has the ability to keep on innovating. If the CTO is keen on having an advantage over damage, then it is a good weapon. But otherwise, it is a letter to the reality that steel cannot do everything, ie, in contemporary warfare.

Russian troops are still advancing inside Ukraine, and the Kremlin leaders have just officially supported new claims to the land. A few days ago, Vladimir Putin went to visit the Kursk Oblast authorities, which indicates Russia’s movement to Sumy City and probable occupation of Sumy Oblast. Pavel Zolotarev, the Head of Glushkovsky Raion, spoke of a buffer zone that would cover the area up to Sumy City to be sure that Russian territory is out of reach of Ukrainian drones and artillery. The temporary Governor of Kursk Oblast, Alexander Khinshtein, in addition to giving public support for Russia’s claims, spoke of historical and personal relations to the land.

Despite these ambitions, the on-the-ground reality is less palatable. Troops pushing towards Sumy—mostly units of the 18th and 72nd Motorized Rifle Divisions, supported by airborne and reserve forces—are not going to take a city of this size. Moscow has failed to take major cities since the first couple of months of the war, the last being Lysychansk, which was taken after weeks of bombardment. Ukrainian officials are skeptical of a large Russian push in Sumy, given their restricted force.

On the battlefields, advances have been minimal, especially in eastern Ukraine. The Donbas region is still a primary focus, with Russian forces advancing incrementally along Luhansk and Donetsk as part of an effort to surround cities like Pokrovsk and Chasiv Yar. Russian forces pushed rapidly in the summer offensive around Dobropillya but have been kept on hold by Ukrainian defenders, with superior local knowledge and advanced Western-supplied equipment. Russian drone strikes have disrupted the evacuation of Ukrainians, says the Institute for the Study of War, and suggest the possibility of encirclements of defenders.

To the north, Russian forces have attempted to push towards Kupyansk in Kharkiv province, seeking to secure Luhansk and northern Donetsk. Villages have changed hands many times, but, short of major reinforcements, progress appears limited further. Ukrainian counterattacks—against Russian airbases and infrastructure—have inflicted real damage, though reports of $7 billion Russian loss are unsubstantiated.

Ukraine has rapidly learned on the battlefield. The creation of the country’s first specialist motorcycle unit, case in point. The 425th “Skala” Separate Assault Regiment now sends an assault motorcycle company forward to blast through Russian lines, a reaction to Russia making more use of light vehicles due to armor unit shortages caused by Ukrainian drone attacks.

Diplomatically, a stalemate remains. The United States has proposed a 30-day ceasefire, which Ukraine has accepted, but to which Russia has not responded. U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio reaffirmed that Moscow now has a choice, citing Ukraine’s willingness to halt combat and negotiate. Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov scoffed at the ceasefire-first offer, insisting that Moscow’s prerequisites—recognition of occupied territory, buffer zones, and reforms within the Ukrainian government—must first be fulfilled.

A Kremlin-linked think tank offered a hard-line strategy, deriding U.S. proposals for a 100-day peace plan as fanciful before 2026. Their proposals include formal Russian control over occupied lands, further land partitions, dissolution of the Ukrainian government, and denial of peacekeepers or a large number of Ukrainian security personnel.

Western leaders are not in a rush. EU foreign policy head Kaja Kallas warned against pushing Ukraine to concede land, the argument being that Russia hasn’t made any concessions and keeps ratcheting up its aggression. Security guarantees to Ukraine are front and center, with NATO and European governments considering robust measures to deter additional aggression. President Zelensky emphasized that Ukraine seeks assurances in the shape of NATO’s Article 5—definite pledges, not just talks.

Information warfare remains at the heart of the conflict. Russian cyber attacks against Western technology and logistics firms are aimed at disrupting aid delivery and intelligence theft. The Kremlin also spreads narratives labeling Ukrainian soldiers as neo-Nazis in an effort to legitimize continued airstrikes and strip Kyiv of legitimacy. These actions appear aimed at positioning Russian citizens to reject any potential peace deal while framing the conflict as an internal Russian matter.

Strategically, Russia’s goals go beyond immediate battlefield wins. Its push into buffer zones, occupation, and regime change in Kyiv is part of a broader desire to reshape European security trends and reassert dominance over ex-Soviet states. Moscow’s insistence on not separating ceasefire talks from final accords reflects a desire to wear down by applying continuous pressure, leveraging incremental victory.

With all of these forces in play, a negotiated settlement is a long way off. The war in Ukraine will likely continue as an attritional grind of combat, fixed diplomatic stalemate, and adaptive military maneuvers on both sides. Ground-based operating constraints, combined with Russia’s maximalist aspirations and the complexities of Western intervention, ensure the conflict will persist with no near-future settlement in sight.

Desertion has always been the most dramatic and painfully obvious sign of a troubled military system that was under enormous pressure, and in the past, it was always spoken of as the key example of such cases. It is seen as one of the closest to typical occurrences in the war between Russia and Ukraine – both sides have yards of soldiers who have gone off that way without any notice and thus have put themselves at the risk of getting arrested, killed, or forced to leave. Perhaps those eager to know what’s going on in the war might find out a lot from the deserters as they tell the tale of human suffering in the 21st-century wars and how fighting with such hard conditions has led to the decline of morale in the troops.

The Scale of Desertion

The magnitude of the problem can be seen from the figures reported. More than 30,000 cases of soldier desertion have been reported by Ukrainian prosecutors in the last few months. The number is so high that one cannot even imagine what it was like in the previous phase of the war. The merciless battle and the absence of genuine relief for the soldiers led them to collapse. The number is probably much higher, according to the information in the reports.

Russia is also suffering from a similar problem, but it tries to hide it from the public. A foreign estimate puts the number of Russian conscripts who have fled to other countries since the invasion at more than 250,000. There have been many missing servicemen cases reported to the Russian courts, where most of the incidents have been related to desertion.

Why Soldiers Walk Away

The motivation is less stratified but shares recurring themes: desperation, disillusionment, and despair. Ukrainian troops might fight out of one horrible battle only to walk directly into another, with minimal or no time off. Leaves are brief, and even those are often postponed. A soldier complained bitterly that prison at least provided one thing the trenches lacked—clarity regarding when it would end.

For the Russian soldiers, who were largely dispatched into the war with little training, there is an ideology of being expendable. Deserter testimony describes the units entering combat as “merely meat for the machine.” The absence of purpose, the loss of life, and the increasing skepticism about the war itself have all contributed to the decisions to flee.

Punishment and Consequences

Each government criminalizes desertion. In Ukraine, penalties range from five to twelve years, although reforms enable some first-time deserters to return unpunished. Russia is much more extreme—surrendering or deserting troops can be imprisoned, whereas detained soldiers are held in ad-hoc cells or forced into consignment into punishment battalions where survival is not assured.

The threats don’t end at the border. Those Ukrainians who have managed to escape the army draft have perished while trying to swim rivers or mountain passes into neighboring nations. Russian deserters who flee overseas usually go underground lest they be tracked down or deported.

Old and New Coercion

History abounds with evidence that armies have had a long tradition of using terror to dominate soldiers. During World War II, Soviet blocking units patrolled the rear to capture and punish deserters. Russian forces today have been accused of going back to such tactics, including accounts of killings that were used to intimidate others into submission. Even centuries ago, European, North African, and Asian military commanders approved summary punishments to keep panic in check.

The Deserter’s Dilemma Abroad

For those who do manage to escape, the issue of asylum is problematic. Under international law, protection can be granted for those being persecuted, particularly if they are against wars on political or ethical grounds. It is already accepted by some European countries that Russian deserters have been accepted, but most applicants continue to find it difficult to make their case. The process is bureaucratic, disorganized, and often filled with suspicion.

Impact on the Battlefield

The effect of desertion is not individual on individual—it alters the direction of the war itself. Ukrainian soldiers are thinly stretched, sometimes ten to a man outnumbered. Sleep deprivation and coordination also cut short their capacity to hold. Russia merely keeps pumping men into the war, though enticing soldiers into combat does nothing to fix its morale problem.

Ultimately, the cycle of desertions by both sides only serves to confirm an as-old-as-war truth that the waging of war is about as much a matter of science as it is of art: that morale and discipline are every bit as essential as strategy or firepower. Behind every headline-read banner announcing troop mobilization or new campaigns stand women and men burdened with exhaustion, terror, and the hubristic human need to survive.

Changes to how wars are fought are quicker than what the majority of experts expected. The war in Ukraine is a vivid example of this change, where drones were used to bypass enemy lines in a very brave way. The June 2025 campaign, known as Operation Spider’s Web, is already being recognized as the moment of change in the history of conflict.

Certainly, it was not a one-day attack. It took more than a year of meticulous planning to achieve it. The intelligence of Ukraine succeeded in smuggling modular launchers along with over 150 tiny strike drones across the frontier, concealing them in wooden huts or beneath civilian trucks. After getting into the right places at the board with four Russian air bases, the drones were secretly launched, circumventing defenses, and hitting places that were long neglected.

Even the very experienced observers were blown away by the magnitude of the impact. Officials of Ukraine said that the Russian strategic air fleet was almost a third disabled during a single night. Among the downed machines were the aircraft, like the A-50 radar plane and Tu-95 bombers. The bill for the damage was in the hundreds of billions range, but the mission itself was only a fraction of that—a very clear presentation of the potential of asymmetric warfare.

Ukrainian’s advantage over what turned out to be not only courageous but also smart. They transformed standard technology and freely available software, such as ArduPil,ot which were never supposed to be used in war, into tools for the war. Several drones were using the current 4G networks to stay connected, and they didn’t need the vulnerable ground stations.

The operators were able to control them through live video feeds, and in some instances, the AI that was on board the aircraft could detect the parts that were weak in the aircraft–fuel seams, sensors, or pylons–and thus guided the attacks with unbelievable precision. The human skill and machine intelligence were a remarkable showcase for this.

For Russia, it was not just the destruction of the valuable planes that shocked. What was left in the strongest shield—geography—meant almost nothing. Aircraft that had taken decades to design and build, and which could not be quickly replaced, were erased by drones that run on nothing more than lithium batteries. They have a heavy financial burden for repairs and dispersal, but psychological weight may also be there. For the first time, the Russians who lived far from the front understood that the war could still come to them.

The lessons for the rest of the world are quite visible. When confronted with large numbers of cheap, disposable drones, expensive platforms such as stealth jets, heavy armor, and naval carriers are increasingly vulnerable.

Defenses need to dedicate resources to distributing forces, concealing critical assets, fortifying shelters, and deploying advanced countermeasures such as jammers and directed-energy technology. Even the worldwide flow of civilian goods can become a problem because tiny drones and their parts can be hidden within normal shipments, which are almost impossible to monitor, given the amount of trade.

Special operations teams became a very important factor, too. Working with civilian experts, the forces of Ukraine showed how rapidly new tools can be introduced on the battlefield. They showed that constant, small strikes that gradually weaken the enemy’s strength without the necessity for large-scale battles could be done by eliminating air defenses and making Russia move its most valuable resources.

On a larger scale, Operation Spider’s Web can be considered as the first chapter of the new era of wars. The line that separated civilian and military technology was barely distinguishable. The gadgets that were once the hobbyists’ favorites—FPV drones, open-source autopilots, machine learning—are now the very things that have the power to change the doctrines that were the giants of the defense industry’s most tightly guarded secrets. Countries that only depend on prestige platforms and do not incorporate technology quickly enough will be the ones to fall behind.

The concept is quite immediate and straightforward: the combination of agility, resourcefulness, and resilience will be the criteria that determine the future successes of battles. Ukraine has demonstrated beyond doubt that the time for nimble, intelligent, and adaptable solutions is here. The question that remains for the rest of the world is whether or not they will adapt in time.

When North Korean troops first appeared in Russia’s trenches of war with Ukraine, it caused tremors in the world’s security community. For years, North Korean military exploits outside its borders were confined to a handful of advisers and covert arms exports. Suddenly, battalions of North Korean special forces in uniform—yes, that notorious “Storm Corps”—were shooting and killing in Europe, learning the dirty lessons of contemporary drone warfare and adding to the handbook on coercive cooperation.

This was more than a symbolic act. As Dr. Jake Rinaldi has put it, “The North Korean dispatch of troops to Ukraine is a watershed moment in international security and underscores long-standing assumptions about the nature of the borders of cooperation among authoritarian powers.” The North Korean incursion started with an onslaught of artillery shells, anti-tank guided missiles, and even ballistic missiles—so intense that Pyongyang threatened to exhaust its stocks of war within its borders. But by late 2024, the alliance had grown more serious: North Korean soldiers, including special forces elite brigades, were being sent to Russia, trained, and then sent to the front in Kursk, where Ukrainian forces had made a bold advance. Initially, these North Korean soldiers were easy targets.

Ukrainian officials recounted how the novices advance in tight, orderly ranks—great for a parade, less so when there are enemy drones flying by. In the words of one Ukrainian officer, as quoted by NPR, the North Koreans “went from having World War II style to adapting in combat to drones, and they learned very quickly.”. Early on, they did not object to the notorious “Baba Yaga” bombing drones trundling methodically along open fields, even as artillery and FPV drones leveled them. The cost? Devastating casualty counts—South Korean intelligence estimated hundreds of thousands of North Koreans killed in the first months.

But then came the point where things got interesting: the North Koreans made adjustments. Notes discovered on the ground confirmed they were conducting reconnaissance for drone identification and taking it down, even going so far as to make plans where a soldier would distract a drone as others attempted to take it down. Ukrainian drone pilots observed that the North Koreans became “very accurate” at shooting down drones and that their combat discipline—to shoot dead comrades in front of them, never to surrender—set them apart from their Russian allies.

Why would Pyongyang do so much? The reason is a mix of ambition, desperation, and cold calculation. North Korea’s government used Ukraine as a test bed—an opportunity to test its latest rocket technology and suicide drones, and provide its elite troops with crash training in 21st-century warfare. Kim Jong Un himself directed test firings of new multiple rocket launchers and drones, and the best missile designers were seen at Russian launchpads, eager to learn how their babies performed in actual combat operations.

But it is not simply about war training. The economic return is enormous. North Korean weapons sales to Russia—mere artillery shells alone might bring over a billion dollars into Pyongyang’s coffers—are a lifeline for an economy reeling under sanctions. Russia, meanwhile, has been rewarding Pyongyang with oil, equipment, and, suspiciously, access to superior military technology. Ukrainian officials cautioned that Moscow even promised North Korea assistance to manufacture long-range Shahed-type drones and enhance ballistic missile precision. South Korean officials said Russia was also supplying the technical know-how for reconnaissance satellites, drones, and even surface-to-air missile systems.

This axis of convenience has tangible implications for the Korean Peninsula. South Korean commentators fear North Korean troops, having been battle-tested in drone warfare and electronic countermeasures, will bring that experience back home—increasing the stakes for any ensuing conflict. The sci-fi nightmare of North Korea unleashing swarms of combat drones, or employing Russian-supplied technology to punch through South Korean lines, is no longer fiction.

But under all the talk of an “Axis” forming of authoritarian states, things are more complex. As the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace observes, “These states continue to be threats more or less independent of each other. They are not a monolithic bloc against which the United States would or could ever be able to form an effective strategy.” Russia and North Korea move together out of necessity, not strong ideological solidarity. China itself continues to be concerned with the instability of North Korea and has an interest in keeping it at bay. But the Ukraine war has demonstrated how quickly authoritarian regimes forget their quarrels when something important is involved.

Until now, North Korea’s gamble in Ukraine has paid off—well, at least for the short term. Its soldiers have come away with invaluable combat experience, its defense sector is working double time, and its diplomatic warehouse has been replenished in Moscow. But danger is always lurking: domestic discontent back home, the potential for overextended military resources, and the constant threat that today’s friends might become tomorrow’s enemies.

Something is sure: the vision of North Korean soldiers mastering war with drones on Ukrainian fields is more than an afterthought in the history of war. It’s a sign that the rules of modern warfare—and the alliances that govern it—are being rewritten live.

The conflict in Avdiivka is a very clear representation of what the war in Ukraine has turned into: a struggle to wear down the enemy, manage logistics, and keep morale, alongside a fight of tanks and artillery. After the combat had been mostly static and positional for several months, the Kremlin gave the order to its troops to take Avdiivka, with the intention of wrapping around the city and tipping the balance in the Donbas area. Their move was largely dependent on numbers alone—great swarms of poorly trained and minimally equipped soldiers were brought to the front in a manner that several analysts have described as “human wave” attacks. At that time, American officials said that the Russians appeared to be willing to pay very large death tolls for racking up only small amounts of territory.

The war took a horribly heavy toll on humans. Ukrainian military leaders reckoned that the number of Russian soldiers killed and wounded was almost 47,000, of which as many as 17,000 were fatalities. However, after all those sacrifices, the city ended up under the Kremlin’s control. Analysts were wondering if the gains made were worth the cost. According to the British Ministry of Defence, the destruction of over 400 Russian tanks was the result of the Russian-Ukrainian fight—this is more than the number of tanks the city of Avdiivka had before the war. Moscow was forced to relocate units from other fronts to keep the offensive going, hence showing the extent to which it was ready to pay heavy losses for marginal gains.

The Ukrainians had their own problems when it came to the defense of the city. Their fortification was not only thin but also makeshift compared to the Russian sides in other locations. Satellite pictures revealed shallow trenches to the west of Avdiivka, which were far less formidable than the multi-layered defense and the intricate network of trenches and tank traps the Russians had built in the south. In private conversations, American officials confessed to being doubtful that Ukraine had not defensively prepared enough and that the gap had become very obvious when the Russians had broken through.

The comparison with the Russian engineering was even more remarkable. For example, near villages like Verbove, Russian positions were almost impregnable, while Ukrainian lines around Avdiivka were still exposed. Kyiv accepted that it was using scarce resources that were mainly directed towards offensive operations rather than digging in—a misstep that had costly consequences.

The loss of equipment was a stark reminder of the harsh arithmetic of war. According to Ukrainian intelligence information, Russia has lost more than 7,200 tanks and nearly 14,000 armored personnel carriers since the beginning of the invasion. About 50 combat vehicles were lost by Ukraine in Avdiivka, whereas the loss of Russian forces reached almost 700. To keep the offensive going, Moscow had to increasingly depend on lightly armored vehicles to transport troops, this being a clear indication of the pressure on its stock.

Western aid, including weaponry and ammunition, is essential for Ukraine to sustain its frontline. Ammunition and air-defense systems replenishments made operations possible, but there were political delays in the rechage, which obviously affected the battle. A lot of the Ukrainian officials were claiming that the loss of Avdiivka was not due to a lack of bravery but because the supplies that were needed were caught in holdups of bureaucracy and politics.

Besides, manpower has also been a major influence. The Russian forces clearly were relying on conscripts, prisoners, and recruits from poor regions, whereas the Ukrainian troops were mostly older, highly trained, and deeply motivated, although the average age on the front lines has now exceeded 40. A lot of the soldiers have been going without proper breaks for months, and this is taking its toll on them.

Furthermore, morale has been one of the issues that the Russian troops have faced. The leaked video shows the soldiers complaining about being disparaged and suffering dangerous missions, getting swallowed up due to bad leadership, lack of equipment, and so on. The Kremlin’s strategy of going on with slow advances while being open to extreme casualties has been like a thorn in the side of morale, although it keeps most soldiers in line through fear of punishment.

On a tactical level, capturing Avdiivka is what gives the Russian forces the possibility to advance a few steps further, but not too much, and expect a breakthrough. Russian troops are exhausted, and their reserves are running out. Ukraine is also setting up new defensive lines outside the city to which reinforcements are being sent, but these lines will not hold if there is no Western aid. Ammunition production in Europe is definitely going up, but the pace is still slow. Although U.S. weapons are already prepared for sending, the front delivery has been delayed by politics.

Eventually, the war has become a test of endurance rather than one of maneuver. Russia has gone through terrible losses, but it still has some reserves and can keep going at a very slow and tiring pace. Ukraine depends on Western support given regularly, and the determination of its troops to continue holding the line.

The Battle of Avdiivka is a mirror of the present situation in this conflict: very high costs, small changes in the territories, and results that are not only influenced by fighting but also by politics. It was a victory only in the Russian sense of the word, but one which might be paid for a lot more than the land taken.

Let’s be honest: if a decade ago you had predicted that $500 drones would become the protagonists of a major European war, they would have ridiculed you. But here we are, witnessing the sky over Ukraine dotted with buzzing quadcopters, AI-guided kamikaze drones, and swarms of air-breathing robots that are altering the rules of war quicker than you can say “air superiority.” The conflict between Russia and Ukraine is gradually turning into an ideal scenario to test drone warfare capabilities, and what is taught and learned there is spreading like wildfire across the globe, changing the way militias think and act.

Drones Are the Stars of Contemporary Warfare

When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, everyone was expecting the usual: tanks, planes, guns, and an immediate air war. What they received instead was a nasty, high-tech ground war where drones—something that was once toyed with by hobbyists and YouTubers—became the weapon of choice on the battlefield. Both sides hurriedly introduced battalions of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), from palm-top quads to missile-borne flying giants. Suddenly, air power was no longer the exclusive domain of deep-pocket owners of Stealth bombers; anyone who had a laptop and some imagination and spent a few hundred dollars could get in on the action.

The Drone Revolution: Toy Hobbyist to Battlefield Video Game-Changer

The revolution has been wild. As the Center for Strategic and International Studies so succinctly phrases it, “you could do most if not all of the airpower missions for the cost of a drone, a laptop, and some imagination,” as described by Air Marshal Johnny Stringer. Ukraine has adopted this philosophy with great enthusiasm, rapidly developing indigenous drone production and integrating UAVs across all levels of its military. What started with a couple of off-the-shelf DJI Mavics—yep, same wedding drones—quickly snowballed into an astonishing vast array of reconnaissance, attack, and kamikaze drones, most of them built in garages or 3D-printing stores. The numbers are staggering. Ukraine has tried to produce a million FPV (first-person view) drones within the span of one year, and others even figure they’re currently producing up to four million annually. These are not window dressing—drones are becoming the weapon of choice for everything from artillery spotters and precision bombing to resupplying front-line troops and even documenting war crimes. The quantity of drones available is unprecedented: tens of thousands are lost every month, but because they’re so cheap and so readily available, the pace never slows.

Democratizing Air Power: How Drones Leveled the Playing Field

This is the icing on the cake: air power has been democratized by drones. It took deep pockets and years at flight school to own the skies. Now, a kid with a controller and a set of balls can destroy a tank or fire at enemy positions miles away. This toppled conventional military command hierarchies and made even the most dominant air forces re-evaluate their approach. It shows on the ground. Russia or Ukraine has not been able to achieve actual air supremacy since drones and heavy air defense have rendered manned aircraft too risky to pilot alone. Rather, the skies are occupied by hordes of small expendable UAVs that are fired from everywhere—sometimes even behind enemy lines, like during Ukraine’s audacious “Spider’s Web” attack, where drones hidden in trucks struck Russian bomber bases deep in the rear.

Drones are not just maneuverable—they are transforming the war industry. Ukrainian drones alone have effectively destroyed more than 65 percent of Russian tanks, reports NATO. Think about this: a $500 drone taking out a multi-million-dollar armored car. Cost-benefit assessments are being stood on their head, and it is now possible for poorer, smaller nations—even non-states—to punch well above their weight. The strategic uses are endless. Drones provide instant reconnaissance, targeted artillery fire, toss hand grenades into trench complexes, and even resupply distant patrols with ammunition and equipment. They’re used in electronic warfare, jamming communications, and relaying signals along the front. The versatility is staggering: one minute, a drone is scouting across enemy lines, the next it’s an air-delivered missile.

Electronic Warfare and the Cat-and-Mouse Game

Well, not all seas are smooth. The introduction of drones has triggered a high-stakes game of cat and mouse in the electromagnetic domain. Both sides have deployed highly effective jammers, spoofers, and electronic warfare (EW) systems to attempt to take out drones or hijack their signals. In Lieutenant General Lance Landrum’s opinion, “the biggest stark difference is that we were really unopposed in the electromagnetic spectrum” in previous wars, but now neither side has been able to post clear superiority.” Drone pilots are now prized targets, and both Russia and Ukraine have come up with ways to trace control signals and target the pilots themselves. The consequence has been a tornado of innovation: mesh networks, relay drones, and even UAVs powered by fiber optics are employed to sustain drones in crowded environs. The reward? A technology arms race wherein flexibility and agility equal hardware.

The War of Information: Drones, Data, and Perception Warfare

It is not all about flattening things. The information space is massive warfare, too, and the champions here are drones. HD-grade drone footage is being used to capture battlefield victories from the war, expose war crimes, and shape world public opinion. Commercial satellites and Starlink have made it nearly impossible to hide troop movements or surprise the adversary, something attested to by Major General Gregory Gagnon, who further elucidated that “the commercial remote sensing market in outer space is becoming rapidly an unblinking eye.” Space-based assets and cyberattacks are also being offered as fair game. The infamous pre-invasion Viasat hack illustrated the means by which communications infrastructure attacks can have cascading ripple effects far beyond the battlefield, disabling everything from German wind turbines to European internet connectivity.

Logistics, Supply Chains, and the New Vulnerabilities

All of this digital wizardry creates new headaches. The Ukraine conflict demonstrated how vulnerable traditional logistics and supply chains are to a tech-savvy, contested world. Huge, centralized supply nodes and “just-in-time” delivery ideas are juicy targets for stand-off drone and missile attacks. Both have had to get creative, spreading out logistics nodes, prepositioning vital supplies, and even using drones for last-mile delivery so they won’t be severed. Additive manufacturing (also known as 3D printing) has been a lifesaver, facilitating quick prototyping and repair of drone parts on or near the battlefield. It’s a preview of the way wars will be supply chain-independent, with decentralized, resilient chains replacing enormous, exposed convoys.

Air Defense Gets a Makeover: Controlling Swarms and Low-Cost Threats

If you thought air defense was just a matter of shooting down planes and missiles, think twice. The sheer quantity of low-cost, disposable drones has required us to think totally differently. Ukraine has set the pace with networks of low-cost acoustic sensors and diversified detection methods to counter the threat, says Air Marshal Stringer. The traditional “one missile, one target” solution doesn’t apply when you’re confronting waves of $500 kamikaze drones. Command and control networks are being revamped to allow faster, more agile reactions. Smartphone-like, modular user interfaces and agile software programming are de rigueur, so air defense troops can pivot on a whim. Offense and defense are blurring together—sometimes the best defense against a horde of drones is to unleash one of yours after them.

Lessons for the Future: Adapt or Get Left Behind

The biggest lesson of the Ukraine drone war? Adapt or perish. The age of fixed, universal military solutions is gone. Such victories in the present are built on ongoing experimentation, rapid innovation, and learning from failure. Practice is more realistic, including simulated jamming, logistics disruption, and hybrid threats from the beginning. Public-private partnerships are more important than ever before, with commercial supply chains and technology now a staple of the military. The “better never stops” culture is on the rise—there is no final form, there is merely relentless striving to stay ahead of the next breakthrough (or the next hack).

The conflict in Ukraine has taught us that the future of war is now, and it’s whirring, buzzing, and occasionally even blasting overhead. You’re a gamer, a general, or simply some guy who can’t get enough of a good underdog story, but whatever you are, the drone revolution is a story you won’t want to miss.