Introduction
Recently, I watched an interview with military analyst Michael Kofman, conducted by Perun, concerning Russia’s military evolution since 2022. The interview raised several interesting questions. These are my takes, not challenges to his assessment.
Micromaneuvering, Economy of Force, and Political Attrition
When observing Russian military operations in Ukraine, particularly through battlefield footage and maps such as DeepState, it is easy to conclude that Russia is suffering from resource constraints. Perhaps it is. But another possibility is worth considering. Russia may have considerably more resources than it is willing to commit, and what we are witnessing may not be a limitation in Russian military capability, but a deliberate economy-of-force approach.
There are several ways to examine this.
First, Russia may lack the resources to equip and sustain larger formations capable of fully conducting coordinated offensive maneuver. Second, Russia may possess those resources but lack the secure logistical system necessary to sustain such operations across the battlefield. Third, Russia may possess both capabilities but prefer to continue its present method of warfare because it serves a larger strategic purpose.
That purpose, I would suggest, is attrition, not merely military attrition, but political attrition as well.
Micromaneuvering and Economy of Force
What makes Russia’s present method of warfare interesting is the scale at which it conducts offensive operations. Rather than consistently employing battalion- or company-sized formations, Russian forces increasingly rely on small assault groups, sometimes consisting of only two or three soldiers.
At first glance, this may suggest an inability to concentrate forces. But does it?
When the economy of force is properly employed, it allows a commander to allocate the minimum necessary resources to secondary tasks while preserving greater combat power for the main effort. It works alongside the principle of mass, balancing risk, resources, and effectiveness across the battlefield.
If done without significantly compromising its own operations, it holds the cards in that respect. It can determine where to apply pressure, where to delay, where to deceive, and where to concentrate its supporting capabilities.
This is where operational fluidity becomes important.
Imagine multiple two-man assault teams operating across a broad front. Individually, they possess little combat power. Collectively, however, they may create numerous simultaneous problems for Ukrainian defenders.
Where are these teams operating? How far apart are they? What zones of responsibility are assigned to them? Are they independent infiltration teams, or are another ten or twenty teams following behind them?
A two-man team might seem insignificant until it becomes clear that reconnaissance drones, artillery, electronic warfare, and other strike capabilities support it.
The maneuver element may be small, but the supporting military apparatus is not.
In that sense, we could argue that Russia is dispersing its maneuver elements while concentrating its firepower and operational effects.
This creates something of a reciprocal relationship between economy of force and mass. Resources saved on secondary tasks can be concentrated elsewhere, while numerous localized actions may collectively produce operational effects far greater than their individual size suggests.
In other words, the micro becomes macro.
Training, Leadership, and Battlefield Initiative
One often-overlooked factor is the length of training soldiers receive before entering combat, especially as both Russia and Ukraine struggle to replace experienced personnel.
Training periods are often too short, and the loss of experienced officers and NCOs creates another problem. Soldiers must learn on the fly, and on a battlefield like Ukraine, that can be deadly, assuming they survive long enough to learn anything.
Now consider a two-man assault team.
What happens when one man is killed?
The surviving soldier is now in charge. He must decide whether to advance, withdraw, hold his position, or wait for further instructions. He may have little training or experience, but the circumstances still demand a decision.
In that sense, battlefield initiative isn’t always developed through extensive training or a well-established command structure. Sometimes necessity imposes it.
This arrangement offers flexibility, but it comes at a cost. What one soldier sees as an opportunity, another might see as an unnecessary risk. Without experienced leadership, the outcome can depend heavily on an individual’s judgment.
This raises another interesting question about micromaneuvering. Are we witnessing a deliberate effort to decentralize tactical decision-making, or has the nature of small-unit warfare forced that responsibility onto soldiers who might otherwise never have been expected to exercise it?
Perhaps it is a little of both. There are no wrong orders.
The military may enter the war with a professional fighting force. But once the war ends, it’s left with volunteers and conscripts, who now become the new professional class. Period.
Death by a Thousand Cuts
This brings me to what I consider the larger significance of micromaneuvering.
It reminds me of death by a thousand cuts.
If Russian forces can threaten multiple positions at once, Ukrainian commanders must decide which threats demand immediate attention and which they can contain.
This uncertainty shapes decisions.
Does a Ukrainian commander reinforce a threatened position? Does he commit reserves? Does he redirect artillery? Does he allocate additional drone operators to locate and destroy an infiltration team?
What happens if that infiltration team is only a diversion?
What happens if Ukrainian forces commit more resources than necessary and thereby weaken another sector?
Of course, Ukrainian commanders have considerable experience dealing with these small groups by now. They won’t necessarily overreact to every two-man team that appears.
But that is precisely where the larger supporting system matters.
A two-man team by itself may pose little danger. Twenty such teams, operating across several locations and supported by artillery, drones, and reconnaissance, present a different problem. Think of the game “Whac-A-Mole.”
The defender must continually assess what is happening, determine where the main effort exists, and respond accordingly.
This can strain command and control, logistics, reserves, and response times.
It also raises an important question about resource consumption. How much does Russia expend conducting these operations, and how much must Ukraine expend to counter them?
If Russia can consistently impose greater defensive costs than it incurs offensively, then its economy-of-force approach becomes especially significant.
The question is not simply how much territory Russia captures in a given day or week. It is what those operations are doing to Ukraine’s ability to sustain its defensive system over time.
Industrial Capacity and the Scale of Operations
This also brings us back to Russia’s industrial capacity.
When I previously argued that Russian industrial mobilization could prevent its army from being starved of munitions, I was considering the small scale of the assault formations being employed.
A two-man or four-man assault team does not have the same immediate logistical requirements as an entire mechanized battalion.
Granted, those teams may depend on considerable artillery and drone support, and those supporting systems consume resources of their own.
But the relationship between industrial production and the scale of force employment remains important.
Russia does not necessarily need to equip every formation for simultaneous large-scale offensive maneuver. It needs to sustain the formations actually conducting operations while maintaining the larger force supporting them.
This may help explain why Russia can continue applying pressure along an extensive front without committing its entire military establishment to large offensive operations.
However, this does not automatically mean Russia has unlimited resources or that every supporting formation is adequately supplied. Those are separate questions.
What interests me is whether Russia has deliberately organized its offensive operations around the resources it can sustain most effectively.
If so, does this arrangement also serve its larger political strategy?
Political Attrition: The Larger Objective
Military attrition is only part of this argument.
The other part is political attrition.
Russia does not necessarily need to destroy the Ukrainian military outright if it can progressively exhaust the political and financial system sustaining Ukraine’s war effort.
This includes Ukraine, but also the European Union, NATO member states, and the United States.
Under this interpretation, the objective is to keep increasing the costs of continued resistance and external support.
Drain their coffers. Force governments to find additional funding. Create recurring financial obligations. Make supporting states repeatedly reconsider what they can provide, when they can provide it, and how long they can continue.
Europe has repeatedly shown it can finance Ukraine, whether through borrowing, budgetary mechanisms, or other arrangements. That demonstrates financial capacity and political commitment.
But neither guarantees assistance will arrive at the scale or pace needed to achieve Ukrainian military objectives.
Four variables matter most: speed, predictability, completeness, and political sustainability.
These are not merely financial considerations. They directly affect military planning.
A government might approve billions in assistance, but that does not necessarily mean Ukraine receives the equipment it needs when it needs it.
A promised weapon system does little good if it arrives after the operational circumstances that prompted the request have changed.
Likewise, uncertainty about future support complicates Ukraine’s ability to plan sustained military operations.
And behind all of this are the domestic political commitments of the supporting states.
Governments must balance foreign assistance against their own defense requirements, public services, economic problems, and the expectations of their populations.
The longer the conflict continues, the more often those competing priorities must be reconciled.
This is where financial strain can become political strain, and political strain can develop into internal political attrition.
The Erosion of Institutional Confidence
Political attrition does not necessarily require elections or a change of government.
It can emerge through exhaustion.
A government may continue publicly supporting Ukraine while becoming increasingly reluctant to assume additional financial commitments or political risks.
Political leaders may begin questioning whether continued assistance can produce the desired outcome.
Institutions may remain intact while confidence in their decisions, commitments, and effectiveness gradually diminishes.
This is where the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back comes into play.
If enough political and financial strain accumulates, governments may become more willing to pursue a negotiated settlement simply because the costs of continuing the war have become increasingly difficult to sustain.
That does not guarantee a rapid peace. Political exhaustion may encourage negotiations without resolving the underlying disagreements between Russia and Ukraine.
Nevertheless, the strategic possibility remains.
Russia might seek to achieve through political attrition what it has been unable to achieve through decisive large-scale military maneuver.
And that brings us back to the battlefield.
From Micromaneuvering to Grand Strategy
If Russia’s objective is to exhaust Ukraine and its supporting states politically, then micromaneuvering may be more than an adaptation to battlefield conditions.
It may be an operational method suited to a strategy of prolonged attrition.
Small assault teams maintain pressure. Reconnaissance and firepower disrupt Ukrainian defenses. Localized advances force continued military responses. Ukraine expends personnel, equipment, and ammunition. Its external supporters must repeatedly provide additional assistance.
That process creates recurring military, economic, and political demands.
Whether Russia can sustain those demands more effectively than Ukraine and its supporters remains a separate question. Attrition cuts both ways, and Russia also pays a high price.
Nevertheless, the strategic logic is worth considering.
Perhaps Russia’s present method of warfare is not simply the consequence of an inability to conduct larger offensive operations. It may reflect a deliberate decision to preserve flexibility, avoid overcommitment, and maintain pressure until political circumstances become more favorable.
Or perhaps it reflects both military limitations and strategic preference.
That distinction matters because it changes how we interpret Russian operations.
The absence of large-scale maneuver does not necessarily mean the absence of operational purpose.
Nor does the slow accumulation of territorial gains necessarily mean those gains are the primary objective.
The ultimate objective may be to exhaust the political will and institutional capacity sustaining the enemy’s resistance.
And if that is the case, then micromaneuvering, economy of force, industrial production, and political attrition are not separate features of Russia’s war. Rather, they are interconnected, compartmentalized elements of a broader strategy designed to exhaust Ukraine militarily, economically, and politically, while simultaneously placing increasing financial and political pressure on the nations supporting it.
References and Further Reading
The Evolution of the Russian Military – Its Strengths and Shortfalls in 2026 (With Michael Kofman)
The Stalin-Putin Parallel: The War of Attrition as Strategy both Militarily and Politically
Military Failure, the Need for Innovation, and the Day After
Neo-Deep Battle Fires: How Artillery and Drones Are Rewriting Depth Warfare
