Western analysts measure the war in Ukraine in meters per day. According to new calculations by the Center for Strategic and International Studies, Russian forces have been advancing at an average rate of 15 to 70 meters per day since the beginning of 2024.¹ This is slower than the Battle of the Somme in 1916, according to the analysis. The British Telegraph concurs: “Russia's forces are advancing more slowly than any other army in the last century.” (January 30, 2026) The Washington think tank concludes that Russia is paying an extraordinary price for minimal territorial gains and is therefore becoming a second- or third-rate power. These results fall far short of Moscow's goal of conquering Ukraine militarily.
However, this finding is based on a categorical error. Since spring 2023, there has been no documented Russian attempt anywhere on the front to achieve a classic breakthrough into the depths of enemy territory. Neither massed tank movements nor an operational phase of exploiting successes have been observed. The system is apparently not geared toward offense in the Western sense, but rather toward controlling the balance of power and creating areas of attrition.
What Western observers interpret as a lack of offensive action may in fact be a different understanding of efficiency: there is no “winter offensive,” but rather a continuous regulation of one's own impact. Russia does not view front lines as targets, but rather as measures of a process of attrition. The war is being waged as a continuous, cybernetic control loop in which loss and impact curves are more important than territorial gains.
If this interpretation is correct, the war is not designed to achieve victory through conquest, but rather through systemic resilience: it is not about seizing territory, but about which system can hold out longer. Russia is keeping its own pressure below the tipping point at which its own system would become unstable, while attempting to systematically overload the enemy's system—until its logistics, recruitment, economy, or command structure collapse. The war will not end with a breakthrough, but with the failure of one side's system.
The fog is lifting
This form of warfare can be described as cybernetic warfare: a self-regulating system that learns and adapts through feedback. The conceptual basis for this type of warfare can be traced back to Soviet military theorist Aleksandr Svechin. For Svetchin, strategy was not a plan, but a constant response to changes in the overall situation. Whereas Clausewitz focused on the decisive battle, Svetchin developed the concept of an adaptation system. War as a continuous process of strategic adaptation. In this sense, Russian warfare today is more Svetchinian than Clausewitzian – Svetchin plus digitalization.
Norbert Wiener, the founder of cybernetics, provides the theoretical bridge to this concept. Wiener defined cybernetics as the science of control and regulation through feedback: a system observes its environment, evaluates data, and adapts its behavior. Cybernetic warfare means that war is conducted on the basis of control loops in order to cause maximum damage to the enemy's systems with minimum effort on one's own part.
The difference to previous attempts to rationalize war is fundamental. While former US Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara attempted to mathematize military success retrospectively during the Vietnam War—for example, through body count statistics—Russia has algorithmized warfare operationally. From statistical body counts to real-time data feedback. This form of warfare can be described as a digitized, industrial process of destruction: Russia wages war like a factory—standardized, data-driven, serial. The primary goal is not territory, but the predictable exhaustion of enemy systems. This form of warfare is abstract and procedural, which is why it is often incomprehensible to Western observers who measure success in kilometers. Russian warfare operates on a different level of abstraction: the West focuses on stock variables – such as the concretion of territorial control – while Russia focuses on flow variables, i.e., the ratio of effort to effect over time.
The technical backbone is ESU-TZ, a Russian network-based command and control system that brings together units, reconnaissance assets, and firepower in a shared information field—comparable to Western C2 systems, but optimized for feedback and real-time adaptation. Sensors feed a unified information field, algorithms and models support the prioritization of targets, and firepower is deployed with significantly reduced latency. It forms the computer-based heart of cybernetic warfare.
One of the most accurate self-descriptions of this new form of warfare comes from Russia itself. Yuri Baluyevsky, former Chief of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces (2004–2008), and Ruslan Pukhov, Director of the Center for Analysis of Strategies and Technologies, published an essay in December 2025 entitled “Digital War – New Reality.” In it, they describe what is happening in Ukraine.
The most important change is the complete transparency of the battlefield. The “fog of war” has lifted. Ubiquitous drones, satellite communications, and networked sensors have created a unified information environment that functionally merges tactical, operational, and strategic levels. The boundaries between these levels are becoming blurred. The second fundamental change: the tactical battlefield and the depths of space up to many dozens of kilometers are transforming into “zones of total destruction.” In these zones, every movement, every concentration of forces is immediately visible and vulnerable to attack. The result: extreme dispersion and very low density of combat units.
Balujewski cites the introduction of globally available satellite networks such as Starlink as the catalyst for this development. For the first time, there is a continuous, scalable information infrastructure that enables feedback down to the lowest tactical level. The cybernetic logic of this warfare is not a theoretical construct, but can be observed empirically. Three elements can be cited as examples here: the mass use of Geran drones, the industrialized deployment of glide bombs, and the organizational structure of the Russian drone unit Rubicon.
New type of drone
The organizational embodiment of cyber warfare is the “Rubicon” drone unit. It was founded in August 2024 on the instructions of Defense Minister Andrei Belousov and, unlike the units responsible for conventional drones, reports directly to him. “Rubicon” combines combat operations, development, production, and testing in an integrated model with feedback loops. The unit's headquarters has its own development department, training center, analytics department, and independent combat units. A significant part of the technological developments originate from the so-called people's defense industry – individuals or small companies that develop technology for the Russian army on their own initiative. Rubicon provides these developers with direct feedback on current needs and problems. Proven solutions are scaled up and transferred to mass production.
The most striking example is fiber optic drones, which are immune to electronic jamming. These systems were first tested in Kursk and deployed across the front within a few weeks. The key difference to traditional military structures is that Rubicon experiments like a start-up—rapid testing, direct feedback loops from the front to development—but can immediately scale successful solutions across the entire military with state authority. While Ukraine is working innovatively from the bottom up but appears to have difficulty systematizing innovations, Russia can quickly expand proven solutions across the entire military and defense industry. Rubicon bridges the gap between the two approaches.
Old technology further developed
However, this organizational innovation only becomes effective through concrete weapon systems that are embedded in cybernetic logic. The mass deployment of Russian glide bombs, for example, is a functional refinement of an old weapon. At their core, these are still classic Soviet-style aerial bombs equipped with relatively simple glide and control systems. Their industrial manufacture is straightforward, the production lines have been in place for decades, and the unit costs are significantly lower than those of modern cruise missiles. The decisive factor, however, is that the precision of these weapons has increased significantly in recent months. The impact patterns show that the glide bombs are being used in a targeted manner along defined defensive structures. Impacts follow trench lines, shelters, known assembly points, and rear connection axes. Entire sections of the front are being systematically worked through – not indiscriminately, but in a structured manner.
This precision does not come solely from the technology of the bomb, but from its integration into an overall sensory system. Drone reconnaissance, battlefield surveillance, and feedback from previous strikes enable continuous adjustment of the target parameters.
The functional role of glide bombs is clearly defined. They are used to target and destroy deeply staggered, fortified defensive positions. In many places, Ukrainian defenses have been built up over many years – with trench systems, concrete shelters, covered roads, and rear bases. It is precisely these structures that are systematically destroyed or rendered inoperable by precise series of glide bombs.
The result is a devaluation of the position, not necessarily its immediate abandonment. Cover disappears, shelters become unusable, and logistics routes collapse. The attacking infantry is thus confronted with a qualitatively changed combat zone: advances are made into a defense that has already been gutted, with significantly reduced losses on their own side.
In the logic of cybernetic warfare, the glide bomb is therefore not a crude instrument, but a precise control element. It combines low costs, high frequency of use, and increasing accuracy with rapid feedback from combat. Its effect is not achieved once, but is optimized step by step. The glide bomb exemplifies the character of this war: old in its basic form, highly precise in its application, embedded in a continuous, data-driven process of attrition. It is not a sign of technological backwardness, but rather an expression of warfare that prioritizes efficiency over technical perfection.
Collapse as the goal
While the glide bomb targets fortified structures, a second system targets the infrastructure behind them. The Geran drone—the Russian variant of the Iranian Shahed-136—embodies the principle of industrial warfare. According to Ukrainian sources, up to 120,000 of these systems have been deployed since 2022. Over the course of 2025, the Geran underwent several stages of technological evolution. Since the summer, Russia has been equipping the drones with Chinese mesh network modems and front cameras as standard. This technology enables attacks on moving targets – such as locomotives and trains – for the first time. What was originally designed as a strategic weapon for static targets is evolving into a versatile weapons platform.
Even more revealing is its tactical use. In June 2025, Russia fundamentally changed its attack strategy. Instead of irregular waves, Moscow established a continuous background noise of 50 to 100 Geran drone flights per day, supplemented by weekly mass waves of over 500, sometimes over 800 combined attacks from drones, missiles, and cruise missiles. This combination of constant pressure and periodic saturation attacks is not an improvised tactic, but controlled system management.
The drastic effect of this serial destruction was particularly evident in early February 2026. After months of systematic attacks on its energy infrastructure, Ukraine experienced a nationwide power outage that even paralyzed parts of neighboring Moldova. Even the Kiev metro came to a standstill. The situation was described as “apocalyptic.”
The collapse is no coincidence, but the predictable result of industrial warfare. Ukraine now has only 11 gigawatts of electricity capacity, but needs 16 to 18 gigawatts in winter. Between 70 and 90 percent of the remaining energy comes from nuclear power plants, some of which had to be shut down during the blackout.
The “Geran” is therefore not a space weapon. It is not used to conquer territory, but to generate a series of scalable effects against enemy systems until they collapse. This is cybernetic warfare in its purest form: constant pressure, controlled intensity, measurable attrition, systemic failure. However, the “Geran” operates primarily in strategic space – against industrial facilities, power plants and power grids, urban infrastructure. For a long time, there was a gap between the immediate battlefield and this strategic depth. Moscow now wants to close this gap.
“Zones of total destruction”
The introduction of a new category of medium-range drones is fundamentally changing the geometry of the battlefield. The Russian “Shahed-107” with a range of 300 kilometers fills the gap between tactical FPV drones (FPV stands for First Person View, drones with cameras that are controlled from a first-person perspective, jW) and strategic long-range weapons. It is extremely simple in design, costs probably well under €10,000, and targets supply depots, command posts, and moving targets at a depth of 100 to 300 kilometers behind the front lines.
This allows Baluyevsky's “zones of total destruction” to be shifted far into the former hinterland. To understand what this means, one must distinguish between two forms of military force: shock waves and pressure waves. A shock wave is a short-term, concentrated impulse of force. High use of firepower in a short time, focus on local breakthrough, significantly increased self-exposure. The goals are rapid change of the situation, gain of space, and exploitation. This is classic maneuver warfare. A pressure wave, on the other hand, acts over a longer period of time and a large area. Instead of a concentrated explosion, a permanent, controllable pressure is created. The attacks are spread over a wide area, each individual strike remains measured, is repeated and modulated. Large formations do not expose themselves. The goal is not breakthrough, but attrition: the enemy's resources are depleted step by step, its responsiveness tested and exhausted.
The “total destruction zones” are not caused by shock waves, but by pressure waves.
The battlefield can now be divided into concentric rings of constant pressure. The innermost ring, zero to 30 kilometers from the front line, has become an absolute death zone. Vehicle movement is virtually impossible in this area. The middle ring, 30 to 300 kilometers deep, is dominated by systems such as “Shahed-107,” “Molnija,” and “Italmas.” This zone was previously considered a safe rear area for command posts, logistics centers, and troop gatherings. The outer ring is covered by strategic weapons such as the “Geran-2,” which can reach targets well over 1,000 kilometers away.
The crucial point is that these zones do not create additional space. They create systemic pressure. The classic principle that leadership can be protected by physical distance no longer works. The concept of rear space is dissolving. This means that the entire area up to 300 kilometers behind the front line becomes a continuous pressure zone—it is not conquered, but functionally controlled by permanent threat.
Strength through decoupling
This spatial penetration of the battlefield has consequences for conventional military concepts. The dissolution of classic combined arms warfare is one of the least understood consequences of cybernetic drone warfare. This is exemplified by a statement made by British military analyst Jack Watling of the Royal United Services Institute. Last year, Watling wrote in a study: “FPVs are particularly effective when combined with other types of weapons.”³
However, the Russian elite unit “Rubicon” shows how drones are actually most effective: not in combination, but independently. ‘Rubicon’ operates autonomously, conducts its own reconnaissance, and selects its own targets—without any tactical ties to a brigade, without maneuver targets, without connection to “combined arms.” The effect comes precisely from decoupling, not integration. Decentralization, mass instead of coordination, permanent threat 24 hours a day, seven days a week. “Rubicon” is an autonomous cluster of destruction.
Combined arms combat is based on prioritization, movement, surprise, timing, and mutual cover. Tanks protect the infantry, the infantry secures the tanks, the artillery prepares the way, and all elements work in sync. But these principles no longer work on the transparent battlefield, because every priority is immediately detected. Movement of any kind attracts drones, and the element of surprise no longer exists. Coordination means mass accumulation, and mass accumulation becomes a target for FPV cluster attacks. Tanks are the primary hunting target, and infantry can hardly move. Combined arms combat breaks down into its individual components because the prerequisite—limited visibility—no longer exists.
Watling's mistake is symptomatic of Western thinking: he tries to squeeze new technology into old concepts. But drones do not function as a supplement to combined arms combat. They replace it.
Are tanks obsolete?
In the West, the crisis facing tanks is also generally interpreted as a problem of inadequate protection. This is incorrect. The problem is structural in nature. Tanks were developed as protected platforms for “direct fire.” The tank must see the target in order to engage it. Drones, on the other hand, no longer need direct sight – they operate at a distance, controlled from dozens of kilometers away, against targets that the operator can only see via a video feed. This asymmetry is crucial: on the transparent battlefield, the tank is seen and attacked before it is even within firing range.
In August 2025, Ukrainian reconnaissance discovered only 23 Russian tanks within 70 kilometers of the front line, compared to 470 tanks on the southern axis in May 2023 alone. Tanks have not disappeared because they are vulnerable—they have largely disappeared because they are too expensive and too exposed for an industrial process of destruction. The same effect—wearing down enemy forces—can be achieved with smaller, more controllable means. Tanks are primarily tools of maneuver warfare. They are unsuitable for cybernetic warfare.
The obsolescence of tanks is only the most obvious symptom of a broader paradigm shift. Western military thinkers do not understand this change because it challenges their fundamental categories. Cybernetic warfare, molecular battlefields, autonomous destruction clusters, the dissolution of operational depth, and sensor-effector networks as primary weapons are concepts and terms that are not understood in the West.
The war in Ukraine is no longer a battlefield in the traditional sense. It is a rule-based process in which intensity, frequency, and impact are continuously adjusted. The decisive factor is not the maximum use of force, but its controllability. The fighting in Ukraine could be part of a longer-term learning and adaptation process for the Russian military. The real break with previous warfare therefore lies not only in individual branches of the armed forces or tactics, but in the transition from battle-focused warfare to process-focused warfare. Anyone who continues to measure the war in Ukraine in kilometers is missing its logic.
I saw a DougDoug video where he made a chatbot play chess, and, as one would expect, it's completely incapable of following the rules, since it's a fucking chatbot and cannot reason, and probalistically spits out its training data, presumably from books containing chess games.
In this case, probably the fucking training data (reddit, pop culture, serious game theoretical analysis even) leads it to eventually autocomplete "nuclear", and once that's in the history, it just runs with it to the bitter end. Chatbots get stuck in stupid holes like this all the time.