Few writers decode geopolitics as well as Tim Marshall. His bestselling book Prisoners of Geography – read by more than three million people – returns in a fully revised edition for a post-Crimea, post-Covid, post-certainty world. This abridged extract looks at Russia
The Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, an attempt to subjugate its people and wipe the country from the map, laid bare the depravity of what, under Vladimir Vladimrovich Putin, has become a gangster state. As long as a pro-Russian government held sway in Kyiv, Russia could be confident that Ukraine would remain a buffer zone. Even a neutral Ukraine, which would promise not to join the EU or NATO and to uphold the lease Russia had on the warm-water port, at Sevastopol in Crimea, would be satisfactory.
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That Ukraine was reliant on Russia for energy also made its increasingly neutral stance acceptable, albeit irritating. But a pro-Western Ukraine with ambitions to join the two great Western alliances, and which threw into doubt Russia’s access to its Black Sea port? A Ukraine that one day might even host a NATO naval base? That could not stand.
When, in February 2016, after riots in Kyiv, the Ukrainian government fell and anti-Russian factions – some of which were pro-Western and some pro-fascist – took over, the die was cast. Flushed with victory, the new interim Ukrainian government immediately made some foolish statements, not least of which was the intention to abolish Russian as the official second language in various regions, including Crimea.
The Kremlin has a law that compels the government to protect ‘ethnic Russians’. A definition of that term is, by design, hard to come by because it will be defined as Russia chooses in each of the potential crises that may erupt in the former Soviet Union. Several million ethnic Russians remain inside what was the USSR but outside Russia. Approximately 60 per cent of Crimea’s population is ‘ethnically Russian’. Putin helped anti-Kyiv demonstrations in Crimea and stirred up so much trouble that eventually he ‘had’ to send his troops out of the confines of the naval base and onto the streets to protect people. Crimea was once again a de facto part of Russia.
No one rode to the rescue of Ukraine as it lost territory equivalent to the size of Belgium. Ukraine and its neighbours knew a geopolitical truth: that unless you are in NATO, Moscow is near and Washington DC is far away. For Russia, this was an existential matter: it could not cope with losing Crimea; the West could. The EU imposed limited sanctions – limited because several European countries, Germany among them, were reliant on Russian energy to heat their homes in winter.
In a speech in 2014, Putin briefly referred to ‘Novorossiya’ or ‘New Russia’. Kremlin-watchers took a deep breath. He had revived the geographical title given to what is now southern and eastern Ukraine, which Russia had won from the Ottoman Empire during the reign of Catherine the Great in the late 18th century.
He listed the Ukrainian regions of Kharkiv, Luhansk, Donetsk, Kherson, Mykolaiv and Odesa before saying, ‘Russia lost these territories for various reasons, but the people remained.’ It is no surprise that, after seizing Crimea, Russia went on to encourage the uprisings by pro- Russians in Ukraine’s eastern industrial heartlands in Luhansk and Donetsk. Russia could have tried to drive its tanks all the way to the eastern bank of the River Dnieper in Kyiv. But at the time, it did not want the headache that would bring. Having got away with annexing Crimea, it could wait.
Covert support for the uprisings in eastern Ukraine was also logistically simple and had the added benefit of deniability on the international stage. Barefaced lying in the UN Security Council is simple if your opponent does not have proof of your actions and, more importantly, doesn’t want proof in case they have to do something about it. Russia was biding its time.
The time came on 24 February 2022. With almost 200,000 Russian troops massed on Ukraine’s borders, many observers thought it was a bluff. They were wrong. Most also said that if there was an invasion the Russians would roll over Ukraine in a matter of days. Wrong again. The plan appeared to be to quickly reach Kyiv from the north, and the River Dnieper from the east. Once the land corridor connecting Crimea to the Donbas was secure, the Russians in the south could turn westwards and fight their way to Odesa.
If Ukraine’s most important port fell, the country would essentially be landlocked. The drive to the Russian-speaking breakaway Moldovan province of Transnistria would be easy. The reality was very different. It showed the ineptitude and brutality of the Russian forces and the resilience of Ukraine. After a fierce fight, a humiliating withdrawal from the Kyiv region followed. When the Ukrainians entered the suburb of Bucha, they found the bodies of murdered civilians lying in the streets, evidence of torture and mass graves. The Europeans and Americans were shocked into action.
Weapons and money slowly began to arrive in Ukraine, although there was no talk of sending troops. The Russians were in disarray, but sheer weight of numbers meant that by June they had occupied about 20 per cent of Ukraine. Having failed in the quick war, they settled in for the long haul along a 965-kilometre front line. President Biden visited Kyiv and vowed that the USA would always have Ukraine’s back, while Yevgeny Prigozhin, leader of Russian mercenary organisation the Wagner Group, tried to stab Putin’s.
In 2023, frustrated at Russia’s progress, he called on his private army to advance on Moscow. The Kremlin quickly brokered a deal assuring his safety but, unsurprisingly, he died in a plane crash two months later.
The year ended with Putin annexing parts of the Donbas and ordering the call-up of 300,000 reservists. In 2023, there was a steady flow of Western military equipment into Ukraine, although often of a standard below what they needed. The country’s grain, blocked in Black Sea ports, was allowed to leave, ending a potential global food security crisis. In 2024, the possibility of victory for Putin’s Plan B came into focus. Plan B was to win a war of attrition – both on the battlefields and in the diplomatic corridors of power – and hope that Donald Trump returned to the White House. Everything rested on the Americans and the 2024 election.
In August, with the clock ticking, the Ukrainians made an audacious move, sending several thousand troops into Russia’s Kursk region and taking 1,300 square kilometres of territory. Kyiv needed a victory narrative and land to swap for a potential peace deal. As winter set in, the Russian counter-offensive got under way, with 50,000 soldiers, backed by several thousand North Korean troops, battering away at Ukraine’s marginal gains.
Kyiv watched the US election closely. Ukraine is the biggest country based entirely in Europe and has a long coastline on the strategically important Black Sea. Washington knew that a total Ukrainian defeat could mean Russian troops on the Polish border and in Odesa. As NATO’s senior member, the USA would be required to respond by deploying extra forces and equipment in the European theatre – just at the time when it wanted to focus on the Pacific.
Since the First World War, part of America’s foreign policy in Europe has been to ensure that no single power dominates the continent and becomes powerful enough to threaten the USA. Joe Biden bought that argument; Donald Trump didn’t. For the Trump team, the Indo-Pacific region was the focus; Europe was secondary. President Trump wanted to end the war to save money, replenish the USA’s military arsenal, meet the rising challenge from China and force
the Europeans to take ownership of the defence of Europe. In private, some of the European governments were happy with the idea of no longer having to arm Ukraine, but less thrilled that they would have to pay for their own security.
Trump arrived back in the West Wing determined not to let the Europeans off the hook. The battle along the front lines in Ukraine and Russia continued, and the political battle between the White House and the European capitals began. Trump had a strong card to play. If he threatened to weaken, or even leave NATO, the Europeans couldn’t be sure he was bluffing. It was part of the art of the deal. With the USA, NATO is the most powerful military force in the world. Without it, it is a regional entity playing catch-up in funding, munitions and missile defence, plus space-based and other technology. Moscow watches with interest.
In the unlikely, but possible, event that NATO fractures, the Baltic states could be next on Russia’s list of territories it would be prepared to risk war for. In the case of the three Baltic states, NATO’s position remains clear. As they are all members of the alliance, an armed attack against any of them would trigger Article 5.
Another region Moscow has its eye on is Moldova. A number of countries that were once members of the Soviet Union aspire to closer ties with Europe, but with certain regions, such as Transnistria in Moldova, remaining heavily pro-Russian, there is potential for future conflict. Late 2024 saw pro- EU President Maia Sandu win a second term against a pro-Russian candidate despite allegations of ‘massive interference’ by Moscow.
However, that did not settle the direction of the country’s future. Moldova presents a problem for all sides. A full attack on the country by Russia would necessitate crossing through Ukraine and then over another sovereign border. It could be done – at the cost of significant loss of life and by using Odesa as a staging post – but there would be no deniability. Although it might not trigger war with NATO (Moldova is not a member), it would provoke sanctions against Moscow at a level at least as harsh as those imposed after 2022, although some of them have been ineffective.
Why would the Russians want Moldova? Because, as the Carpathian Mountains curve round southwest to become the Transylvanian Alps, to the southeast is a plain leading down to the Black Sea. That plain can also be thought of as a flat corridor into Russia; and, just as the Russians would prefer to control the North European Plain at its narrow point in Poland, so they would like to control the plain by the Black Sea.
In effect, the Russians do already control part of Moldova – the Transnistria region, east of the River Dniester, bordering Ukraine. Stalin, in his wisdom, settled large numbers of Russians there, just as he had in Crimea after deporting much of the Tatar population. Modern Transnistria is now at least 50 per cent Russian- or Ukrainian-speaking, and that part of the population is pro-Russian.
With almost 200,000 Russian troops massed on Ukraine’s borders, many observers thought it was a bluff. They were wrong
When Moldova became independent in 1991, the Russian-speaking people rebelled and, after a brief period of fighting, declared a breakaway Republic of Transnistria. It helped that Russia had soldiers stationed there, and it retains a force of about 1,500 troops to this day.
Across the Black Sea from Moldova lies Georgia. It isn’t high on Russia’s list of places to control for two reasons. First, the Georgia–Russia War of 2008 left large parts of the country occupied by Russian troops, who now fully control the regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Second, it lies south of the Caucasus Mountains and Russia also has troops stationed in neighbouring Armenia.
Moscow would prefer an extra layer to its buffer zone, but for now can live without taking the rest of Georgia. That situation could potentially change if Georgia looked close to becoming a NATO member. This is precisely why it has so far been rebuffed by NATO governments, which are keen to avoid the inevitable conflict with Russia.
The other former Soviet states can be divided into those that are neutral and the pro-Russian camp. The neutral countries – Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan – are those with fewer reasons to ally themselves with Russia or the West. This is because all three produce their own energy and are not beholden to either side for their security or trade.
Ten years ago, you could have put Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Belarus and Armenia in the pro- Russian camp. Ukraine has complicated things, and now only Belarus must pay allegiance to Moscow. Belarus is vitally important to Moscow. Heading north along the Belarus–Polish frontier you reach Lithuania. From there, the Polish– Lithuanian border runs for just 80 kilometres until you get to the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad. If Russian troops severed what is known as the Suwałki Gap, NATO’s land route to the Baltic states would be closed. Moscow’s domination of Belarus, which it used as one of the staging posts to invade Ukraine, also gives it the option of positioning troops right up to the Polish border if it chooses.
None of the Central Asian republics supported the invasion of Ukraine, none recognise the self-proclaimed Donetsk and Luhansk ‘People’s Republics’, and all pay at least lip service to the sanctions imposed on Russia. However, for now there’s a limit to how much distance any of these countries can put between themselves and what is, for most, their main trading partner. China and Turkey may be making inroads in Central Asia, but Russia remains the dominant, if weakening, force. In 2015, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan joined the Russian-led five-nation Eurasian Economic Union (a sort of poor man’s EU), and in 2020, Uzbekistan took observer status. Tajikistan preferred to stay outside, which in hindsight looks a good bet.
The union has not succeeded in becoming a profitable economic alliance and has failed to keep the Central Asian republics in line. The same can be said for the CSTO, which suffers from being an abbreviation rather than an acronym, and from being a watered-down Warsaw Pact bloc.
The battle along the front lines in Ukraine and Russia continued, and the political battle between the White House and the European capitals began
Armenia is fed up with it, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan wonder what the point of it is, and Belarus is in it because Moscow told it to join. If Russia didn’t wish to maintain its military bases in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Armenia, the organisation would probably be put out of its misery.
With one eye on possible conflict with NATO, Russia is building its sea power. It has four main fleets, all of which are constrained by geography. The Pacific Fleet is headquartered on the coast of the Sea of Japan, where the Japanese island chain would make access to the Pacific difficult in times of conflict. The Russian Navy can’t easily get out of the Baltic Sea either, and with Finland and Sweden joining NATO, the task has become even more difficult.
The Northern Fleet is based in Severomorsk, near Murmansk on the coastline of the Barents Sea, which is within the Arctic Circle. In a conflict with NATO, its job would be to head out into the Arctic, turn left, and prevent American supplies and reinforcements getting to Europe. That’s a long way to go, and a lot of NATO navies to to face.
Finland’s NATO membership means, if required, that NATO troops can move to within a few hours’ drive of the Northern Fleet’s headquarters. Russia has already responded to new ‘conditions’ for the Black Sea Fleet. Having annexed Crimea, the Russians wasted no time. Under the updated 2011 terms of their lease agreement for the port of Sevastopol, Ukraine had the power to block the modernisation of the Black Sea Fleet. No longer – hundreds of millions of roubles were poured into upgrading the fleet.
By 2021, refurbished existing vessels, three frigates, four patrol ships and six submarines had reinforced the fleet. What Moscow had not envisioned, though, was just how many extra targets they would be giving the Ukrainians during the war. Between 2022 and 2024, more than two dozen Russian Navy ships were damaged or destroyed, among them the flagship cruiser Moskva. The Russians did have a small naval presence in Tartus on Syria’s Mediterranean coast, which partially explains their support for the Syrian government when fighting broke out in 2011.
However, in early 2025, following the overthrow of the Assad regime, pictures emerged of Russian forces engaged in what appeared to be a withdrawal from the port.
There is another area in which Russia is struggling. In the run-up to the Ukraine invasion, Russia’s most powerful weapon – leaving aside nuclear missiles – was not its military, but gas and oil. It could set the price people pay for their heating bills each month and, if it chose, simply turn the heating off. Russia remains second only to the USA as the world’s biggest supplier of natural gas, and before 2022 had most of Europe over a barrel of crude. On average, more than 25 per cent of Europe’s gas and oil came from Russia. For example, Latvia, Finland and Slovakia were 100 per cent reliant on Russian gas; Bulgaria 90 per cent reliant; Greece 40 per cent; and Germany 50 per cent. After the invasion, Europe woke up to its strategic mistake.
None of the Central Asian republics supported the invasion of Ukraine, none recognise the self-proclaimed Donetsk and Luhansk
Other energy providers increased their supplies to the continent, including Norway via pipeline and the USA via LNG (liquefied natural gas).
Putin had calculated that European support for Ukraine would collapse under the pressure of keeping factories open and homes heated. It was yet another example of how badly he had gamed out the repercussions of his war of choice. By 2023, Russia accounted for just eight per cent of pipeline gas entering the EU, and 15 per cent of pipeline gas and LNG combined. Putin’s energy bluff was called, the heating stayed on, and support for Ukraine remained – temporarily.
The loss of most of the European market forced Moscow to look for other customers. They had the hydrocarbons, India and China had the demand and the cash… but there was a catch. It was a buyer’s market. In 2023, half of Russia’s oil exports went to China but at vastly reduced prices, and Chinese exports to Russia rose 50 per cent. Moscow has dug itself into a hole of dependence on Beijing.
Putin faces numerous challenges on the domestic front as well. When you move outside the Russian heartland, much of the population in the Russian Federation is not ethnically Russian and pays little allegiance to Moscow. Fifteen per cent of Russia’s population is Muslim, and most live in regions seething with dissent. The Urals and Siberia produce almost all of Russia’s oil and gas, much of its metals and a lot of coal. The populations east of the Urals are well aware that they bankroll Moscow, but that their regions suffer a lack of development. In the long term, the empty, depopulating spaces of Russia’s Far East are even more likely to come under Chinese cultural – and eventually political – control. Russia’s Manchuria region, with its vast natural resources (water, minerals, iron),
has a population of just 4.5 million. Chinese Manchuria, meanwhile, has a population of 107 million. Putin may not have grasped the irony of China potentially recovering lost territory in Russia’s Far East by applying his logic of retaking lost territory in Europe.
The new edition of Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall was published last month (Elliot & Thompson) in paperback, audio and ebook
