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Introduction: The Culmination Points The war in Ukraine has been raging for 19 months and is yet to exhibit a conclusive imbalance of forces and means. This is good news for Ukraine, who was expected to surrender within days, and an unprecedented embarrassment for Russia, who planned for a Crimea 2.0. What we are witnessing today is undoubtedly the result of a cluster of Russian intelligence failures, both in terms of reconnaissance and operational support. A lot has been written about the general errors in autocratic intelligence management, as well as Russia’s resistance to modern tactical realities such as crowdsourcing open-source intelligence (OSINT), but few have considered the overall weakness of the underlying strategic intelligence assets. For Russia, a loyal collaborator network, the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC), and certain advanced cyberwarfare were central to preparing the ground for a quick surrender. All of these, however, reached their culmination points after the initial intervention in Ukraine 8 years prior. The culmination point of attack is a well-known Clausewitzian military concept describing the inevitable equilibrium reached as a result of the defender’s counterbalancing activities and the attacker’s consequent loss of initial superiority. At this point, the attacker is still able to hold the defence, yet continuing the offensive in the same manner would mean defeat. In Russian doctrine, the same laws apply to a clandestine battlefield, where the culmination point is reached with the exposure of one’s true goals, means, and methods. Intelligence operations that fail to adapt to the operating environment and enemy responses naturally become counterproductive to the attacker’s strategic goals. The annexation of Crimea was an example of a successful deployment of clandestine means at the height of their strategic influence. The operation has been described as a clever adaptation of tactics after being cornered by the failure of Russia’s original active measure campaign in 2013. However, the aftermath of that operation brought the remaining Russian influence assets to their culmination point, thus calling for a clear change of strategy. The Kremlin’s political-strategic goal – ever since Ukraine’s declaration of independence – has been to subordinate it to Moscow’s will. In pursuit of that, Moscow has attempted to instal various puppet entities into Ukraine’s political system, starting with the illegitimate “Donbas people’s republics” in 2014. Eight years and two Minsk Agreements later, the Kremlin had not achieved the desired results and decided to extend the puppet network into Kyiv’s central government. Similarly to Crimea, a successful power transfer merited a quick (and preferably bloodless) surrender of the government. Setting the stage for a Crime-type power transfer was, therefore, the venerable goal of the Russian intelligence services in the leadup to the invasion. The Federal Security Service’s (FSB, Federal’naya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti) 5th Directorate – tasked with combatting dissent in Russia’s “near abroad” – carried the heaviest weight in preparing Ukraine for invasion. Some western security officials would even hold the FSB accountable for the trickle-down failures of the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces (GRU, Glavnoye Razvedyvatelnoye Upravlenie) and Russian military intelligence, who were forced to work with flawed base information regarding the potential for Ukrainian resistance. Adding to this the obsoleteness of Russia’s agent network, Orthodox authorities, and cyberwarfare upon which its success largely relied, the invasion was doomed to fail from the start. 1. A Network Without Collaboration The primary covert asset – required for a swift occupation of Ukraine – was a reliable Russian agent network on the ground to provide strategic intelligence and prepare the information conditions enabling a smooth power transfer. Such a cultivation of the soil for a Russian takeover started already in the 1990s, eventually unleashing a competition for the most impactful ground presence among the Russian intelligence services. According to Bellingcat’s lead investigator, Christo Grozev, Russia’s internal security service and military intelligence, in particular, have been competing to set up the most far-reaching fifth column in Ukraine. In pursuit of that, both the FSB and the GRU have targeted not only Ukrainian politicians, activists, and security officials but also the judiciary, journalists, and former Yanukovych associates. By 2014, Russia’s agents of influence had provided enough leverage to convert existing political divisions, weak institutions, and high- levelcorruptionintoaquicksurrenderof Crimea and Donbas. Researchers from the Estonian Academy of Military Sciences identified the saboteur network’s systematic spreading of panic and propaganda as a key factor enabling Russian success in Donbas. It entailed fake news that alleged heavy Ukrainian casualties and the untrustworthiness of the government in Kyiv. Separatist collaborators, together with professional Russian intelligence officers, stood at the centre of these information operations. Such officers would, for instance, arrive at conflict hotspots, alongside the “journalists” specialised in propaganda, and fabricate the developments to appear unfavourable to Ukrainian resistance. It meant that by the start of the physical confrontation in Donbas, the region had been thoroughly primed for Russian intervention and that incoming troops had no trouble convincing Ukrainians to surrender entire settlements without resistance. Weeks prior, a similar scenario had unfolded in Crimea, with the collaborator network enabling deep deception and fast evolution of events on the ground. At the height of that unprecedented operation, the appearance of Russian troops without insignia made it difficult for Ukrainian counterintelligence to diagnose and respond to the situation, not to mention the paralysing confusion in local civilian masses. The covert operation ran smoothly, owing its success to widespread collaboration from the local police, security service, political, and criminal elites, whom the Russians had managed to infiltrate and corrupt. The efficient informational cover and timely intelligence provided by the collaborator network allowed Russian forces to swiftly seize key strategic positions on the peninsula and thus deny grassroots resistance by deception. However, what the Kremlin may not have realised in 2022 was that underlying the success in Crimea were extremely favourable political conditions and the complete novelty of the chosen approach, which could not be replicated in other operations. Moscow’s human intelligence (HUMINT)-enabled and deceptive diversion operation in Ukraine, therefore, reached its culmination point in 2014. At that moment, Russia still retained enough plausible deniability to avoid direct proportional consequences, but the opposing security communities became hyper- focused on the “hybrid” elements in Russian offensive operations, thereby suggesting exposure of the Kremlin’s covert methods. The operation’s political technologist, Vladislav Surkov, was sanctioned by the US immediately after the annexation, despite the frantic efforts of his aides to deny his involvement to the Western public. Experts interpreted Surkov’s careless reaction as a mere bluff. Notwithstanding the evident exposure of the covert operation, Russia’s game plan for a successful military intervention in 2022 remained unchanged. As the most comprehensive post-mortem of the intelligence failure details, the Russian asset network was meant to paralyse the Ukrainian state and condition Ukrainian officials to accept a pro-Russian course; the next step would be provoking mass protests against the government’s sudden inability to serve Ukrainian national interests. The systematic spreading of false narratives regarding the protests would help fracture Ukrainian resistance and provide a moral justification for an invasion. Analogous to the 2014 operations, Moscow’s agents on the ground were supposed to maintain pro-Russian sentiments in the contested territories until Russian forces secured critical strategic positions. The main goal of the GRU’s ground network was to ensure the physical passage of Russian troops and members of the FSB’s planned puppet government. A principal role in this was to be played by one of the GRU’s most crucial assets and a member of the Ukrainian Parliament, Andriy Derkach, recruited in 2016. By the time of the invasion, Derkach and his assistant Igor Kolesnikov had been put at the centre of the entire network. However, at the final preparatory and initial active stages of the invasion, multiple malfunctions occurred, signalling a premature burnout. • The first setback was the sanctioning of Andriy Derkach in 2020 for his interference in the 2016 US presidential election. In addition to provoking mass protests and misleading Ukrainian counterintelligence, Derkach was to lead the dissemination of disinformation about the dangers associated with Ukrainian nuclear energy production – all of which failed to materialise after his landing on the blacklist. Complete exposure of Russia’s intended psychological operations became clear weeks prior to the invasion when the UK and US had strategically declassified comprehensive intelligence about Moscow’s plans to politically subvert Ukraine. Remarkably, the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU, Sluzhba Bezpeky Ukrainy) had apparently been aware of the Derkach network – and allegedly neutralised it at the beginning of the invasion by detaining Kolesnikov, identified as the key manager of funding. • The second setback partly followed from the first. Such public and attributed disclosure of Russian psychological operations gained superiority for the Ukrainian narrative and mobilised a resolute international alliance (even though Ukrainian officials had been initially denying the possibility of a Russian attack). Moreover, in the face of Russian aggression, domestic public opinion was uniformly in favour of EU and NATO integration. This should have been interpreted as a clear sign that the lack of societal cohesion and international support no longer formed a weakness to exploit. Unlike in 2014-15, there were indicators that the West would intervene. However, the FSB chose to conduct its own polls, overseen by a former Yanukovych aide in charge of sleeper agents, and then interpreted the numbers to support the armed intervention. As RUSI researchers have explained, the invasion was likely based on the premise that those institutions in which the population showed the most trust – i.e., the military and the civil society organisations – could also be easily neutralised by the Russian network on the ground in Ukraine. Battlefield success during the initial stages of the invasion, therefore, relied on similar influence and diversion tactics as in 2014. In grave contrast to the former, the invading troops instead found the local population in the contested territories assisting the Ukrainian intelligence services to sabotage Russian positions. Hence, sticking to the methods of 2014 was counterproductive for the agent network of 2022. • This led to the third setback: the questionable loyalty of Russian junior agents and informers in Ukraine. The FSB’s strengths in the Ukrainian theatre came with a considerable expansion of its operations and the establishment of a “curator system,” whereby over 120 FSB curators would manage around 5-10 asset relationships. It involved a shift from targeting exclusively the highest- ranking officials in 2014 to virtually everyone associated with influential people, down to their service personnel in 2022. A key characteristic of this approach was that assets were recruited on a flexible, temporary, and project basis, which sometimes did not align with their professions and, therefore, took a toll on the assets’ quality and loyalty. In the words of the SBU’s reserve Major General Viktor Yahun, the expanded spy network in Ukraine was corrupted by its own structure. As assets got tangled in a “circle of responsibility” to cover comrades and improve their own results, the intelligence reaching the decision- makers at the top was being tailored to support the illusion of an easy Russian victory. The status of Putin’s favoured service, earned by the successes of 2014, also deepened patrimonialism within the curators themselves, whose tool to advance one’s career was to validate the Kremlin’s pre-decided policies. The GRU was facing the same problem: most of the influence agents they had recruited would not cooperate directly with their curators after “D-Day,” suggesting that they may have never been supportive of an operation of this kind. In this regard, Christo Grozev brings a noteworthy example of an asset inside the SBU that the GRU had to execute to preserve its credibility among other collaborators. The structure and modus operandi of the Kremlin’s agent network in Ukraine, therefore, suggests that it was expected to behave similarly as did in 2014 – i.e., to condition both the authorities and the local communities to surrender without resistance. However, as one puts all the setbacks together a clear picture emerges: once a functioning asset network had been reduced to ashes by the start of the invasion. 2. A Church Without Faith The collaborator network was interconnected with the ROC – a de-facto state institution that, in the words of Russian religious scholar Sergey Chapnin, “less and less resembles a church in the traditional understanding of this word.” It is rather a multifaceted influence asset of the Russian state that has prematurely culminated first on the strategic and then on the operational level. The ROC attains its strategic significance from its special status as a formally depoliticised extension of the state’s hand – its main function ever since Peter the Great’s imperialistic reforms. Stalin’s revival of the church during WWII and the recruitment of its priests as the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs (NKVD, Narodnyi komissariat vnutrennikh del) agents set up a patrimonial security structure that outlasted the collapse of the USSR. Up to date, Patriarch Kirill, the current leader of the ROC, continues to emphasise the close relationship between the church and the state. A deep dive into its history shows that in 1992, the church’s public discourse began to glorify Russian combat soldiers as saints. Indeed, in the context of war, there is no asset as useful as one that can justify and encourage dying en masse for the Motherland. However, events took a downturn for the ROC on the eve of the Crimean annexation. Leaked emails from the operation’s leading architect, Vladislav Surkov, revealed that the ROC had failed its grand strategic mission already in the leadup to the Ukrainian Euromaidan, making the annexation the last resort rather than a demonstration of power. This happened as the Kremlin sought to use the church as a tool to steer Ukrainian public sentiments towards “Eurasia” but, after various propaganda campaigns, found all the Orthodox churches in Ukraine still formally favouring integration with the EU. Having failed to influence the general direction of Ukraine, the ROC, nevertheless, maintained substantial social authority in the target country. The FSB’s polls found that ahead of the invasion, the church was still highly regarded by over half of the Ukrainian population. The deep intelligence infiltration of the Moscow Patriarchate’s domains allowed the church to remain the main cover organisation for Russian operations since the 1990s. The ROC’s impact was the most visible in Ukrainian domestic politics, where its presence secured Russia’s claims to Ukrainian territory by cultivating a “religious nationalist” political faction, promoting the narrative of inherent religious unity between the two nations. Drawing on this uncontested institutional authority, the real value of the ROC was in enabling the Kremlin to uphold an elected pro-Russian representation in the Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine throughout multiple election cycles. What was left of the ROC’s strategic influence on Ukraine’s political and religious divisions peaked just before the start of the conflict in 2014. The culmination point was reached with the annexation of Crimea when the church first came under fire. Yet, it was still able to escape blame and distance itself by portraying the Russian intervention as a religious dispute within the context of a “Ukrainian civil war.” Since no creative adaptations to the strategy followed, the increasing public questioning of the ROC’s loyalties after the annexation took a toll on its influence, eventually leading to a formal secession of the Ukrainian church from the Moscow Patriarchate in 2019. It delivered a fatal blow to the ROC as its main reason for existence had become the “one Orthodox nation” myth used to maintain control over Ukraine. Whereas the ROC’s central strategic narrative had simply failed to make an impact before the occupation of Crimea, after the annexation, it was outright swept out of existence. Beyond political strategies, the ROC also had an operational role in capturing Ukraine. In the 2014 battles, for instance, priests were found fighting among separatist ranks in Donbas and operating torture chambers on the premises of religious facilities. Paramilitaries with a distinct Orthodox identity made a significant contribution to the separatist war effort, especially wing to the participation of local “Kazak” units familiar with the landscape. In the ongoing war, Estonian Foreign Intelligence recognised the ROC’s provision of multifunctional safehouses to be a critical constituent of the Russian ground network. Even more importantly, it was the ROC’s associates who provided the most valuable HUMINT if compared to the otherwise underperforming network. Naturally, the church’s special status as a religious institution, with a mandate to oppose the Kremlin, grants it the most auspicious position to conduct social network analysis and gather overall situational awareness. Christo Grozev also admits that church associates constitute a pool of trustworthy pro-Russian “spies and gunners” who assist with the actual conduct of hostilities. In continuation of the 2014 efforts, ROC priests were again among the most important local agents promoting the invaders and reporting the non-conformists to the Russian occupant forces. The ROC’s operational community manage- ment duties maxed out during the initial phases of the occupation in 2022, with the loss of plausible deniability regarding its involvement. Following the secession of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church during Poroshenko’s presidency, the ROC’s positions began to deteriorate, while the reach of malicious Russian networks and influence tools embedded in it was reduced. It had, nevertheless, enjoyed relative immunity up until the invasion due to the Ukrainian government’s political fear of limiting religious freedom and offending the remaining Ukrainian patriots among the ROC’s followers. However, uncovering the extent of Russian war crimes during the Ukrainian counteroffensive left the ROC no more room for denial and resulted in a systematic targeting of the church and its associates. It was at this point that the maintenance of the ROC as an operational asset became counterproductive. Ukrainian counterintelligence soon confiscated its physical property and made sure to expose all suspicious findings to the media. Statistics show that most believers consequently began to see Russian Orthodox priests primarily as intelligence agents; a tectonic shift in formal allegiance to the Ukrainian Orthodox Church has occurred, thereby dealing a final blow to the ROC’s legitimacy in Ukraine. 3. Attack Without Leverage The final asset – crucial to shaping sentiments on the ground and complementing Russian military strikes – was state-sponsored cyberattacks on Ukraine’s critical infrastructure. One particular GRU cyber unit named “Sandworm” was the prime actor associated with this task since the beginning of the war in Ukraine. After hacking various news and government websites to spread disinformation and encourage the population to surrender to occupation authorities, the GRU’s cyber strategy culminated with a large-scale attack on Ukrainian critical infrastructure in December 2015, leaving thousands of civilians without power for a prolonged period. This was another classic attempt to undermine societal trust in Ukraine’s capabilities to withstand aggression and provide for its citizens. For external observers, Sandworm’s attack constituted both an escalation from previous disruptive incidents and the first successful sabotage of a state’s energy infrastructure by a covert cyber campaign. The West – while acknowledging the campaign’s highly sophisticated and systematic nature – was left dumbfounded by Russia’s technical capability and fearful of Moscow’s potential to politically subvert Ukraine. That ominous precedent exemplified to multiple stakeholders and observer states the necessity of securing their power grids from hostile foreign state actors. The 2015 attack became Sandworm’s culmination point: Ukraine was severely affected but recovered fast amidst the international attention. The GRU managed to hit the target’s weakness in a highly unexpected manner while initially retaining an umbrella of deniability, plausible enough to avoid legal repercussions. In theoretical terms, a retreat – or change of strategy – at that point was warranted to avoid burnout. However, the GRU approached the attack rather as reconnaissance by combat – i.e., a subtype of reflexive control aimed at gaining intelligence on the target’s capabilities and potential responses by way of attack. Having witnessed Ukraine’s inability to resist or respond to such incidents, Sandworm carried out occasional attacks in the following years. Continuing the cyber campaign without any modifications became counterproductive when private companies and other external entities entered the game on Ukraine’s side. By 2022, highly capable private actors such as Microsoft had already pre-emptively intervened and offered real-time assistance to Ukraine in countering Russian cyberattacks throughout the invasion. Likewise, the Starlink communications technology not only derailed Russian attempts to disturb Ukrainian command and control but became a lifeline for civil resistance. In a direct affront to Russia’s cyber campaign’s goals, the donated Western technology enabled sophisticated intelligence collection and fire support operations capability for the Ukrainian forces. The turn of tables became apparent with two main events. • First, in the beginning, stage of the invasion, Sandworm launched large- scale wiper attacks on Ukraine’s critical digital infrastructure, with Viasat, a military communications provider, among its targets. As in the old playbook, the goal was to undermine Ukraine’s political will and collect intelligence on all levels. While significant tactical complications for the target followed, the attack failed to affect Ukraine’s societal and military morale as planned. On the contrary, the Ukrainian Armed Forces managed to leverage the public for intelligence value, further strengthening societal resilience. • Second, reassured by the 2015 experience, Sandworm attempted another ambitious cyberattack on the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant a few months into the invasion, aiming to leave millions without energy. However, this time, the aid provided by Ukraine’s private supporters enabled a complete denial of the fatal attack or any force-multiplying effects to entail. Furthermore, the resemblance of the offensive software to the 2015 attack facilitated a faster neutralisation of the cyberweapon. Russia’s efforts again failed to account for the greatly enhanced resilience that Ukraine’s digital infrastructure would display after learning from the initial shock attack. The Ukrainian side, on the contrary, demonstrated an understanding of the GRU’s modus operandi and gained silent battleground superiority by capitalising on the initial exposure of Sandworm. Conclusion: The Common Denominator There was one common denominator between Andriy Derkach, the ROC leadership, and Sandworm: they were all products on the Kremlin’s covert action shelf whose expiry date had passed almost a decade ago (although they may still often come up to describe Russia’s hidden strategy to condition Ukraine into a quick surrender). What started as a markedly successful leveraging of covert assets in support of territorial gains and political concessions in 2014 culminated with a complete strategic blunder that was the 2022 invasion. A premature culmination of those three strategic assets is one way to explain the outcomes. After the successful annexation of Crimea and destabilisation of Donbas, the FSB expanded its Ukraine operations but failed to realise that the loyalty and public sentiments that triumphed in 2014 would not be the default in 2022. The GRU’s efforts against Ukraine were exposed both on the ground and in cyberspace, which helped Ukraine gain external support and build up resilience against the two types of subversion. In the meantime, the FSB and the GRU were heavily relying on the ROC, which had been gradually losing all leverage in Ukraine after the 2019 schism and the 2022 exposure of its direct involvement in the conflict. On the one hand, the turn of events suggests that Russia’s tools and theories of hybrid warfare may be neither as sophisticated nor effective as feared after the annexation of Crimea. The flip side of this implies that the current war will rely more on Russian biomass and hard power, especially now when assets of influence and non-military subversion have been exhausted. On the other hand, our understanding of Russia’s performance in this regard may be somewhat biased since we are, by definition, only able to analyse intelligence failures – not achievements. Another aspect to consider is the continuing revelations of Russia’s successful meddling in democratic political processes abroad, which suggests that some Russian covert assets outside of Ukraine may yet reach their culmination points. The central questions are if and what the Kremlin learns from the strategic failures in Ukraine, as well as whether it becomes more open to the structural improvements needed.

I see two important aspects here. The first one is military. The second is political. The news of the Russian Defence Minister Sergey Shoigu's order to withdraw from Kherson did not come as a surprise to me. On the other hand, it was really a pleasant surprise. It was clear that Russia's chances of keeping the right-bank part of Ukraine were decreasing day by day, and this is not an opinion of a cheering patriot or propagandist, because it is next to impossible to keep such a contingent, estimated at around 40,000, with all the equipment and logistics needs, while the two supply channels are under the enemy fire. Therefore, the question was only "when", or "how Kherson will be liberated": will it be retaken, or the occupiers will flee Kherson. Why did Russia delay this decision until now? This unfavourable situation was clear to them as soon as Ukraine started striking bridges with HIMARS. There are two important aspects here, in my opinion. The first one is military. The second is political. When Sergey Surovikin, as the newly appointed commander, spoke on October 18 about his readiness for "difficult decisions", he obviously had this in mind. But he, like any other Russian general, understood that he would not be allowed to do so without the go-ahead from the top. And it doesn't matter how he reasoned this retreat. Like any Russian general, he was afraid to tell Putin the truth. There is a Russian proverb about what happens to the one who brings bad news. Therefore, Surovikin tried to convey that a disaster awaited them on the right bank of the Dnieper in Kherson region, if they don’t decide to withdraw. The political value of Kherson is absolutely obvious. Russia (Kremlin, Putin) put themselves in a situation that could not be worse by declaring this territory Russian. Which could be an even more painful blow to the image of this great macho, who in fact showed his weakness? It involves both political and personal risks for Putin as the head of state, who presented himself as a macho man who had everything under control. In my opinion, either Evgeniy Prigozhin or Surovikin (by the way, there are rumours in Russian expert circles about agreements between Surovikin and Prigozhin), or both, might have convinced Putin that it was a necessary decision, and the political risks would be less catastrophic than if such a decision was not taken. Here, perhaps, lies the greatest danger, because such a decision might go with something that obviously should stop this information wave "everything is lost" in Russia. Our readers should at least mentally prepare for some unpleasant surprises awaiting us in the coming days. I think that our military leadership has calculated these risks and is preparing preventive measures. The next question, which is of interest not only to me, is how this retreat will take place? The thing is that compared with the "gesture of goodwill" at the end of March, then Ukrainian opportunities to pursue the retreating units were quite limited. So it was hardly a gentlemanly gesture on our part. Let's not take the Snake Island, because its case was special due to its location, but in September — October, we saw an uncontrolled process of Russians fleeing in the Kharkiv region. All — thanks to the fact that the Ukrainian forces could counterattack and pursue them. What is the Russian scenario of withdrawal from Kherson? What will be the tactics of our military? In open sources, I did not see any hint of the existence of, I would not say, political but some kind of gentlemen's agreements, that in exchange for such a "gesture of goodwill" Ukraine would allow these troops to leave the right bank unhampered. They are extremely vulnerable precisely for the reason I mentioned earlier — there are only two main ways to the left bank. They are under the Ukrainian artillery control. The fewer Russian forces are left on the right bank, the easier it will be for Ukrainians to cut this retreat altogether. So I don't know what the tactics of the Ukrainian side will be. Can they just be allowed to leave? Maybe so. But we understand that these 40,000 will not go to the Kerch Bridge — they will be immediately redeployed in another direction. So, if we allow them to leave quietly, in a week or two they should be expected near  Donetsk or Zaporizhia, and will try to storm them from the south. Obviously, there will be no lull in the coming days and weeks. It will not be like the withdrawal of the Soviet troops from Afghanistan, when there was an agreement between the command and the enemy side that they would not touch the convoys moving towards the USSR. I do not think that the withdrawal from Kherson region is a bluff or a deceptive manoeuvre, despite all the Russian treachery. It is really impossible to hold Kherson region on the right bank, the price is extremely high. They will explain this withdrawal on their TV: Apparently, the Ukrainians threatened to blow up the Kakhovka dam, so they decided to save the lives of both military and civilians. For me, this gives some understanding that the threat of its explosion is minimal, at least at the moment. The intact Kakhovka dam is better for the Russians than if it were blown up. However, the risk of its explosion is not eliminated, only postponed, and when Russia is forced to demonstrate another "gesture of good will" — leave Nova Kakhovka and lose control of the Kakhovka dam — this threat will be extremely high. The Kakhovka dam means not only flooding of the territories downstream of the Dnieper but also a real threat to the Zaporizhia NPP — a threat of a disaster comparable to Japanese Fukushima.

Kazakhstan is generally regarded as Russia’s closest ally after Belarus, so Moscow could have been forgiven for expecting some kind of support for its war with Ukraine from the Central Asian country. After all, Kazakhstan has always participated in all of Russia’s integration projects, including the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), where Kazakhstan cooperates with Russia on defense. Additionally, it was largely thanks to the Kremlin that Kazakh President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev retained power in January when the country was rocked by political disturbances and violent clashes. Since the outbreak of war in Ukraine, however, many in Russia have regarded Kazakhstan’s actions as being unworthy of an ally. It has adhered to Western sanctions against Russia, and in an appearance at the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum in June, in the presence of President Vladimir Putin, Tokayev stated that Kazakhstan would not be recognizing the self-proclaimed Donetsk and Luhansk “people’s republics.” Kazakhstan’s defiant rhetoric has been backed up by action, with Kazakh authorities sending humanitarian aid to Ukraine and maintaining contact with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. Russian military propaganda symbols have been banned in public places in Kazakhstan; the May 9 Victory Day parade was canceled; and official approval was even given for an anti-war rally in Almaty. When Kazakh oil being shipped through Russia ran into unexpected difficulties, therefore, many wondered if this was Russia exacting its revenge. Against this backdrop, it’s not surprising that a hastily deleted post by former president—and now deputy chair of the Security Council—Dmitry Medvedev suggesting that after Ukraine, Moscow might turn its attention to the fate of northern Kazakhstan, was taken at face value by many people. But could Russia really enter into conflict with another of its neighbors?Kazakhstan has made political gestures in the past that have displeased Moscow, but they never prevented close cooperation between the two countries. Now, however, economic differences appear to have emerged, with the Kazakh side in no rush to help Russian companies bypass Western sanctions, opposing legalizing parallel imports and preventing Russian and Belarusian truckers from bringing in goods from Europe. In a move that is unlikely to be warmly received in Moscow, Kazakhstan is also giving a warm welcome to companies that are leaving Russia. Russia certainly has a variety of ways in which it can remind Kazakhstan of the price it will pay for worsening relations. It could cut off Kazakhstan’s main source of income: its lucrative oil exports. The oil and gas sector accounts for over 40 percent of the Kazakh state’s revenues, and 80 percent of its oil exports pass through Russian territory via the Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC), of which Russia is the largest stakeholder (31 percent). There are other possible export routes—via the port in Baku, by pipeline to China, or by rail to Uzbekistan—but they can’t match the CPC in terms of volume, price, or speed of delivery. By cutting off this key source of income for Kazakhstan, Moscow could also put pressure on the Central Asian state’s main customer, the European Union, demonstrating that a rejection of Russian oil would come with an additional loss for the EU of upwards of a million barrels of Kazakh oil a day. It’s possible that this was the veiled threat being sent when Russia twice—in mid-June and early July—brought the CPC’s operation to a standstill, citing technical issues. Both incidents followed statements from Tokayev that would have done little to please Moscow: one on Kazakhstan’s intention to observe anti-Russian sanctions, and the other on the country’s readiness to help stabilize the situation on Europe’s energy markets. Both stoppages were short-lived, but could have led to emergencies at Kazakh enterprises with continuous production cycles. Oil exports are by no means the only Kazakh pressure point that the Russians could exploit. Kazakhstan is critically reliant on imports from Russia for a range of food items, notably cooking oil, sugar, and milk. Russia is also a key source of petrochemicals, iron, and fertilizer for Kazakhstan, as well as imported car parts. Overall, Russia accounts for a fifth of Kazakhstan’s total external trade, while over half of Kazakhstan’s cargo flows pass through Russia. Again, alternative routes—to Europe via the Southern Caucasus, to the south through Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, or by rail to China—are far more expensive. How the situation will develop is a matter of some debate. Following the invasion of Ukraine, almost anything in Russian foreign policy seems possible, and rational criteria cannot be relied upon to predict Moscow’s actions. It is unlikely, however, that Russia was counting on a great deal of support from Kazakhstan as it prepared its invasion. It’s also unlikely that Moscow would put up with direct criticism, but Kazakhstan hasn’t yet crossed that line, so Russian-Kazakh relations have not undergone a fundamental change. In Central Asia in general, Russia’s main priority has always been to reinforce friendly political regimes. Putting pressure on Kazakhstan now—throttling it economically, forcing it to support the war, and demanding a break with the West—would weaken the current leadership, which hasn’t yet fully recovered from the upheaval of January. Meanwhile, Tokayev’s readiness to publicly stand up to Moscow has only reinforced his position in Kazakh society. People are beginning to see him as an independent politician who is no longer reliant on his predecessor Nursultan Nazarbayev, or on Putin. If the Kremlin attempts to force Tokayev to retreat from his position, it risks provoking a new wave of public discontent in Kazakhstan which, in turn, will impact the economic issues that have yet to be resolved. For now, Moscow appears keen to give the impression that Ukraine only has itself to blame and that it’s business as usual for Russia’s other neighbors and allies. Now that Russia is isolated from the West, it needs to demonstrate it has good relations elsewhere, not least in Central Asia. No surprise, then, that Medvedev’s post caused so much concern. Although the text was later removed and its authenticity denied, it reflected the expectations of the hawks in Russian society and is entirely in keeping with the current political dialogue within Russia, where hardly anything is taboo. Similar criticisms of Kazakhstan are regularly heard from Russian officials, not to mention the extremes reached by non-officials. The key factor here, though, is that Medvedev’s post simply transferred the same logic that it is applying to Ukraine to its relations with Kazakhstan. If the Kremlin sees that logic as being sufficient to justify a military invasion, what is to stop it doing the same in other former Soviet republics? For now, Moscow sees Kazakhstan as a friendly regime, but Russia’s criteria for friendship are becoming ever more amorphous. The regimes of Russia, Belarus, and Kazakhstan are closely intertwined, but Kazakhstan is now seeking its own path forward with a renewed leadership, a freer market economy, and an absence of hostilities with the West. As time goes on, Russia and Kazakhstan’s trajectories will become increasingly divergent, creating new sources of tension between them. As a result, there are now serious doubts that Moscow, with its varied arsenal for putting pressure on Kazakhstan, will be willing to let this ally go its own way without retribution.By:Temur Umarov

AbstractRussia’s war in Ukraine has been an exceptional threat to the European security architecture, and a peaceful and democratic development around the world. This war has led to the displacement of people, human sacrifices, damages of civilian property, material and financial loss. The imperial ambitions and the revisionist policy of the Russian Federation have created a new dramatic reality for the whole world. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has raised a significant alarm in the Republic of Moldova in terms of the aggravation of the country’s security problems, the wider regional political and strategic ramifications. This study examines Moldova’s response to the consequences of Russia’s war in Ukraine with special focus on the multiple vulnerabilities, social-economic tensions, energy problems as well as refugee and humanitarian crises.The long struggle between the East and the West has reached its peak. The endpoint of the difficult way for interacting with sanctions mechanisms after the annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014 has become the war in Ukraine, radically changing the European security architecture. The end of the post-Cold War era of peace is accompanied by the threat of nuclear weapons. Autocrats have created a more favorable international environment for themselves over the past decade and a half, empowered by their own political and economic might, as well as by the waning pressure from democracies, which is grounded in autocrats’ shared interest in minimizing checks on their abuses and maintaining their grip on power. Rising Russian authoritarianism has contributed to a context that has made the unprovoked aggression in Ukraine possible. Increasing authoritarianism in Russia and some other countries, coupled with gradual democratic erosion around the world, poses an exceptional threat to a rules-based global order, and consequently to peace, prosperity and sustainable development. Global freedom faces an increasingly dire threat since non-democratic regimes have become more authoritarian in the last five years. According to the dates of the Global State of Democracy Report 2021, the percentage of non-democratic regimes with statistically significant declines on at least one sub-attribute over a five-year period increased from 21 percent in 2015 to 45 percent in 2020, the highest ever. Putinism is a form of autocracy that is conservative, populist, and personalistic. Putinism is due to an authoritarian regime, which has infiltrated the Russian political activists, the mass media, and the judicial system. Corruption at the highest level of government, disinformation of the population, closing the independent media (Russia is ranked 150th out of 180 countries in RSF’s 2021 World Press Freedom Index), and violations of basic citizen’s rights – are the main features of Putin’s policies. During his reign, the image of Putin’s popularity bolsters his actual popularity and the consequence of this is the right-wing populism in Europe as a reflection of the Putinism influence. Features of Russian influence enable different effects on neighboring countries. Russia has long resisted Ukraine’s move toward European institutions, and NATO, in particular, disregarding Ukraine’s right on the choice of pursuing a civilizational way of development. For Ukraine, this is to make its own sovereign choice, but for Russia, it is a question of a different nature – loss of its “sphere of influence”. The same thing applies to the Republic of Moldova, which for a long time was the traditional sphere of Russian influence. The so-called “Russian world” continues to remain that community uniting the cultural, ideological and linguistic components. The Republic of Moldova is a multicultural country, located on the geopolitical fault line, which combines various cultural traditions and languages. The struggle for the influence of the East and West, including the fight between the Russian and Anglo-Saxon worlds had a direct impact on Moldova. At present, in the world, there is a clearer trend toward the replacement of the Russian world, which is due to the Russian foreign policy itself. At the same time, the features of Russian influence and Putinism in Moldovan society persist. These features are frequently constituted as additional triggers for political speculations and dividing lines in society. The pro-Russian forces are in opposition, in the context of the current political agenda of the Republic of Moldova, but at the same time, their influence remains substantial enough. The promotion of Russian influence and support of Putin’s policy is popular among the pro-Russian forces in Moldova. The war in Ukraine marks the end of the post-Cold War era of peace. It demonstrates that the US power is not absolute and the threat of nuclear escalation remains as close and implacable as ever. Diplomacy has been exhausted. The parties involved cannot seem to find common ground for negotiation or consensus. The result of the struggle between democracy and autocracy reflects the crisis of diplomacy and the role of diplomatic negotiations for a peaceful solution to the conflict. After four rounds of diplomatic negotiations between Russia and Ukraine without any significant progress, this process has been suspended. The dark cloud of war remains menacing. Moldova’s response to the consequences of the Russian war in UkraineThe Moldovan parliament declared a state of emergency for 60 days across the country after Russia invaded Ukraine. In accordance with the provisions of Order no.1 from February 24, 2022, of the Commission for Exceptional Situations of the Republic of Moldova: The Civil Aviation Authority, jointly with the Ministry of Defense, shall decide on the prohibition of the use of the airspace of the Republic of Moldova for civil and state aircraft (national and foreign), depending on requests and the provisions of international conventions. Moldova’s airspace has been reopened for civil aviation only on March 21. This decision was taken following a meeting of the Interdepartmental Airspace Management Commission, whose members, after assessing the current security situation, decided to open part of the airspace so that passenger air transportation could be resumed. Moldova as a neutral state does not join any sanctions either. According to the announcement of the Moldovan Minister of Foreign Affairs and European Integration Nicu Popescu: “A decision to impose sanctions on Russia is not an easy decision, this is a very hard decision that could be made by stronger and more prosperous countries than Moldova. The decision was made for economic considerations, as the Moldovan economy is too dependent on relations with Russia, including those economic”. The key argument of the Moldovan political elite, since the beginning of the war, was that Moldova is neutral and advocates for peace in Ukraine and the region at large. The neutrality of the country has always been a highly politicized, contentious, and divisive issue. Refugee crisisMoldova, which borders Ukraine, has been directly affected by a huge inflow of Ukrainian refugees. Since the beginning of the war in Ukraine, over 460 thousand refugees from Ukraine entered Moldova and nearly 100 thousand of them decided to settle in Moldova until they will be able to return safely to their homes in Ukraine. Of those 460,000, about 65% arrive via the Palanca and Tudora crossing points in the south of the country, and about 25% via the Otaci and Creva crossing points in the north. Moldovan citizens opened their homes and hearts to Ukrainian refugees. Despite being one of the poorest and smallest nations in Europe with very limited resources, Moldova has caused admiration from many countries by being able to make the border crossing easier for the refugee flow, ensure protection and grant shelter to Ukrainian refugees. Among the Ukrainian refugees, most are women, children and older people (almost 90% of the total number of refugees – this being one of the most vulnerable groups of people) who have crossed into Moldova since the beginning of the war on February 24.  According to the Operational Data Portal Ukraine Refugees Situation dates on the period as of 28 June, in the Republic of Moldova were registered 82,700 – Individual refugees from Ukraine recorded across Europe; 515,432 – border crossing from Ukraine; 146,939 – Border crossing to Ukraine. Due to the assistance of external partners, the Government of the Republic of Moldova now has the infrastructure in place to support incoming refugees and is working with its international partners to create protection action plans. The EU humanitarian operation in the Republic of Moldova enhances assistance for refugees through the European Humanitarian Response Capacity. Such a humanitarian crisis occurred for the first time in the history of independent Moldova. For the Republic of Moldova, this is the first experience of finding a response to a refugee crisis – large wave of refugees that puts pressure on basic services in Moldova and the surrounding region.Tensions in Transnistria ring alarm bells in MoldovaThe Transnistrian region located between the Dniester River and the Moldovan–Ukrainian border, a region in a protracted conflict, remains to be one of the most sensitive issues for Moldova, and tensions around it have arisen amid the intensification of the Russo-Ukrainian war. Transnistria extends for about 400 kilometers between the eastern bank of the Dniester River in Moldova and the country’s border with Ukraine, being home to a population of about 470,000 predominantly Russian speakers. Moldovan authorities are following with caution and vigilance the events taking place on the territory controlled by the Tiraspol regime. There are tensions between different forces within the region interested in destabilizing the situation. This makes the Transnistrian region vulnerable and creates risks for the Republic of Moldova. The authorities condemn any provocations and attempts to draw the Republic of Moldova into actions that may endanger peace in the country. Chisinau continues to insist on a peaceful settlement of the Transnistrian conflict.The possible scenarios of a dangerous development of Russian plans are quite thoroughly analyzed in the analytical overview of the Stockholm Center for Eastern European Studies.   Particularly, there are mentions that the Russian military operation could be extended towards Moldova. In the Transnistrian region there are concentrated 500 Russian peacekeepers and around 1,000 Russian military personnel. The Transnistrian military is thought to have around 4,000 active troops. The Moldovan authorities argue that there had been no change in the military situation, but with the beginning of the second phase of Russia’s special operation in Ukraine, the situation in the Transnistrian region worsened.On April 26, tensions flared as Transnistrian authorities announced the “red level” of terrorist threat for 15 days across the territory. The announcement came after alleged attacks on two communication towers and a state building in the self-declared capital, Tiraspol, as well as an incident involving a military unit in the village of Parkany. Moldovan President Maia Sandu convened a Security Council meeting to prevent tensions and the escalation of the conflict.During the meeting of the Supreme Security Council on the subject of the incidents in the Transnistrian region and the security developments in the region, on April 26, the Supreme Security Council noted the facts of escalation and recommended to public institutions the following: – increase the intensity of movement checks in the vicinity of the security zone; – increase the intensity of patrolling and checks on the territory of the Republic of Moldova and at the border; – increase the level of alert in securing the critical infrastructure; – increase the level of alert of all institutions responsible for ensuring public order and security. In this complex and tense situation, the President assured that all necessary measures would be taken to prevent escalations, strengthen the security of the state, and protect Moldovan citizens, calling on the media, opinion formers, and social and political leaders to behave during this period with maximum responsibility, share only verified information and avoid using emotional manipulation for the sake of increasing public ratings. While the Moldovan government has repeatedly called for the removal of the Russian contingent, the Russian military troops remain on this territory. The Republic of Moldova does not intend and does not carry out a blockade of the Transnistrian region, remaining open to continuing the dialogue for the settlement of the conflict in the region in a peaceful, diplomatically negotiated manner that will give the people of Moldova, including those in the Transnistrian region, the chance to have a peaceful and prosperous life. It is important to mention that about an additional Ukrainian 8,000 refugees who have decided to stay are in the Transnistrian region. Providing support to refugees in the region has its own challenges and is still lagging. Economic and energetic consequences of the Russia-Ukraine war for the Republic of MoldovaThe Russian war in Ukraine is having serious economic and energetic consequences for the Republic of Moldova, the Black Sea region, and the global economy.  The war is triggering global ripple effects through multiple channels, including commodity markets, trade, financial flows, displaced people, and market confidence. The damage to Russia’s economy will weigh on remittance flows to many neighboring countries. Disruptions to regional supply chains and financial networks, as well as heightened investor risk perceptions, will weaken regional growth. Prices for commodities that Russia and Ukraine supply, including energy, wheat, fertilizers, and some metals, are sharply higher. In the Republic of Moldova as well as in many emerging markets and developing economies, rising food and energy prices are exacerbating poverty and, in some cases, food insecurity, heightening inflation pressures that were already building. The Russian Federation and Ukraine are prominent players in the global trade of food and agricultural products. Domestically, limited economic activity and increasing prices could undercut the purchasing power of local populations. Moldovan apple farmers are already feeling the consequences of Russia’s war in Ukraine. Their main trade route through the Ukrainian port of Odesa has been cut off. Normally, Moldova exports just under a fifth of its agri-food products to Russia. Now, 120,000 tons of apples are laying in cold storage – and they have to be sold before the next harvest begins. The support of Moldova’s Government is essential to help small-scale farmers respond to the crisis and remain resilient. Although there are some opportunities to export to Romania, the Ministry of Agriculture and Food Industry is estimating steep losses in the fruit sector alone. According to the National Statistics Bureau, Moldova imports about 300,000 tons of fertilizer annually, the vast majority from Russia and Belarus. The national Ministry of Agriculture and Food Industry estimates that, without fertilizer, the production of staple foods – like wheat, corn, and barley – will drop by at least 30 % this year alone. Mitigating the effects of the war on lives, livelihoods and economic growth will require carefully calibrated policies. A concerted effort will be needed to house refugees, meet their basic needs, and foster smooth integration into host communities. When the war subsides, a large mobilization of resources will be needed for reconstruction in Ukraine. Because of their substantial direct trade, financial, and migration ties with Russia and Ukraine, neighboring countries in Eastern Europe, especially the Republic of Moldova, are expected to suffer considerable economic damage. Currently, Moldova has no alternative for Russian natural gas, and the price of supply from other channels, in any case, would be higher than that of Russia. Given the high energy poverty in the country, it is highly unlikely that the majority of Moldovan people would want lower gas prices to be traded off for geopolitical gains. The supply of natural gas is one of the most sensitive issues that the Moldovan government has to deal with. Moldova is one of the countries that were most severely hit by the rise in natural gas prices and the recent sharp increase in gas prices became perhaps one of the most acute economic problems for the people of Moldova. In October 2021, Moldova extended its gas contract with Russia’s Gazprom following a bitter stand-off over price hikes. Moldovagaz, the national energy company half-owned by Gazprom, made the outstanding payment of a 74 million USD gas debt to Gazprom at the same time. The energy crisis due to the dependence on Russian gas, the price of which has almost tripled, has continued since last autumn.  On March 16, 2022, however, after years of preparatory work and in the middle of the war, the electricity grid of Ukraine and Moldova was successfully linked to the continental European network on a trial base. This will allow both Moldova and Ukraine to import electricity from the EU. The energy dimension of security in Moldova largely depends on the strategy of diversification of sources.Moldova’s response to Russian disinformation and propaganda during the warAfter the beginning of the “special operation” in Ukraine the independent media were closed in the Russian Federation. Echo of Moscow and Rain TV channel have been blocked, recognized by the Ministry of Justice of the Russian Federation as foreign agent media; many editorial offices, including Znak.com, and the BBC Russian Service announced the suspension of their activities because they do not see any opportunity to work under the conditions that the authorities have announced; other media faced being blocked, such as Meduza, the same for the BBC and, for some reason, The Village. Putin’s regime has focused on spreading disinformation and propaganda rhetoric both in the country and abroad. The perception of popularity, which has been created using media resources and PR technologies gives additional points for trust among the Russian population around the world. The level of trust in Vladimir Putin in Russia is very high – 77%. According to the dates of Moldova’s Public Opinion Barometer of the Institute of Public Policies, a great deal of trust in Vladimir Putin in 2021 had been placed – 28.8% of Moldovans respondents.Despite the European integration trajectory and the significant assistance received in this process from neighboring Romania, the main strategic partner of Moldova 32.5% perceived by respondents in the middle of 2021was Russia, 28.1% – Romania. The position of Moldovan authorThe position of Moldovan authorities in terms of combatting Russian propaganda and disinformation became more pronounced. Russian media remain influential in the Moldovan media landscape with high-rating TV stations, print and online media. Russian information resources continue to exert an obvious manipulative influence by spreading disinformation, in particular about the war, the position and actions of Ukrainian officials and Western countries. The impact of the Russian propaganda and disinformation is very high, especially for such regions as Transnistria, Gagauzia and the Northern regions of Moldova. The war in Ukraine does not seem to have changed radically people’s attitude toward Russia in these core Russophile regions of Moldova. In order to spread awareness about the Russian manipulative campaign, Moldovan president Maia Sandu promulgated in June the Informational Security Law, which bans the broadcast in Moldova of Russian TV news and political analysis. The law, designed to counter Russian propaganda about the war in Ukraine, says that the ban will still apply after the expiration of the state of emergency established in Moldova after Russia invaded Ukraine. The normative act prohibits news and analytical broadcasts from countries that have not ratified the Convention on Transfrontier Television. It stipulates that 50 percent of TV content must come from EU countries, the United States and those states that have ratified the Convention. Fast forward to EuropeThe challenges the Republic of Moldova is currently facing in the security context are created by the start of Russia’s war against Ukraine. The war in Ukraine has brought instability and uncertainty to the region – but also a chance to rebuild the balance of power on the continent based on new, fairer rules. The new reality has shown us that authorities must act decisively if we want to anchor Moldova in a community that can offer stability and development. The European integration of the Republic of Moldova has enabled significant progress in terms of the country’s development over the past decade. According to the Public Opinion Barometer (2021), 65.1% of respondents were in favor of the future of Moldova in the EU.The positive perception of the European vector of development by the citizens of Moldova has significantly increased over the years of the existence of the Eastern Partnership, which is mainly the result of effective public diplomacy and the EU’s “soft power”.  For the Republic of Moldova, the European Union is, first of all, a peace project. Therefore, Moldova signed the EU membership application on March 3. EU accession is the only strategic option that offers the Republic of Moldova the chance to remain part of the free world. Moldova has an ambitious development agenda in cooperation with the European Union, but development requires peace. The Republic of Moldova has shown so far, a strong political will to promote the European agenda and pursue the necessary reforms. The Republic of Moldova is carrying out an intense lobbying campaign, having Romania, an EU member state, working side by side with Chisinau, to achieve this goal. In fact, all the states in the Eastern bloc support a favorable decision for the Republic of Moldova. The most difficult part was the process of completing the European Commission’s Questionnaire in an extremely short time (in the case of other states the process took up to several years), which required unprecedented synergy of actions. All this has demonstrated an amazing capacity of the authorities to mobilize, which despite the many crises facing our country, have allocated the necessary resources to achieve the national strategic objective. On June 23, 2022, the European Council decided to grant EU candidate status to the Republic of Moldova and Ukraine. This is a victory for the citizens of Moldova and a victory for the strong political leadership of our country. ConclusionThe war requires a coordinated response at the national, regional and global levels. Political authorities of the Republic of Moldova need to avoid introducing distortive policies in response to surging commodity prices, opting instead to offer targeted support to vulnerable households and expand social safety nets. Pressures on fiscal space and increasing vulnerabilities also call for protecting essential basic services like health and education, and special approaches for the protection of vulnerable populations, especially low-income groups, refugees and the elderly. A still unfolding economic crisis requires carefully calibrated policies to ensure, in practice, the functionality and effectiveness of special crisis response measures. It is important to consider the direct and indirect economic consequences of the Russia-Ukraine war. A steep slowdown in Russia and Ukraine will affect neighboring countries, including Moldova, through disruptions to trade, financial, and remittance flows. The negative effects will lead to the severance of supply chains and transport links, and also impacts digital connectivity and associated services. The heightened risk perceptions by investors will result in a reduced level of foreign investments necessary for the sustainable development of the country. Higher energy prices will have important knock-on effects on the affordability and financial viability of electricity and heating services. Measures to increase energy efficiency will emerge as a key point. If the war, which is already affecting the Black Sea region and the global economy through large and unanticipated changes in the movement of people and commodities, is protracted, the conflict will affect major fiscal and financial implications. At the same time, tackling the conflict’s many spillovers, including the refugee flows, commodity market disruptions, food insecurity, and heightened financial market volatility will necessitate a comprehensive menu of national Moldovan policy priorities. Under these conditions, the Republic of Moldova will have to continue pursuing internal reforms and the modernization of the state, making efforts to promote the European integration. More attention should be paid to strengthening the control mechanisms for carrying out domestic reforms, as well as to the effectiveness of the political course and security policy, built on the principle of achieving practical results in ensuring and maintaining security on the European continent.