National Interest

by Elkhan Nuriyev

    The Ukraine War could be decided by whether Russia or the United States and its partners achieve “strategic time dominance.”

For more than four years, the war in Ukraine has been assessed through familiar wartime metrics such as territory captured, weapons supplied, casualties suffered and ammunition produced. These measurements remain essential. But they may obscure a deeper contest unfolding alongside the fighting: which side can make time work to its advantage

    Two days of US-brokered negotiations between Russia and Ukraine in Abu Dhabi concluded this week with an agreement in principle on a large-scale prisoner exchange, but no breakthrough toward halting the fighting or resolving territorial disputes. Unfolding amid continued Russian strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure and Ukrainian attacks on Russian energy facilities, the talks expose a fundamental flaw in Western assumptions: diplomatic movement is not necessarily strategic progress. While Washington pushes for rapid diplomatic momentum, the war’s outcome may ultimately hinge on who controls the clock.

    A recent analysis in Foreign Affairs highlights a central puzzle of the war: why does Russian President Vladimir Putin see little reason to negotiate, even as Russia confronts growing costs and the United States signals its willingness to concede and negotiate  The answer may lie in the Kremlin’s calculation that time itself can become a strategic asset, gradually shifting the political balance in Moscow’s favor.

    I call this strategic time dominance: the ability to make each additional period of conflict impose greater political and strategic costs on an adversary than on oneself. This is an analytical proposition, not an established Kremlin doctrine or a claim that Russia has already effectively won the conflict. Its significance lies in how it reframes the war. Military endurance matters, but so does each side’s ability to sustain political commitment, economic resilience and strategic purpose.

    Russia has not achieved a decisive breakthrough on the battlefield. Ukraine continues to adapt militarily, employ long-range strikes and impose costs on Russian military and energy infrastructure. European countries have assumed greater responsibility for supporting Kyiv. Yet Russia’s ability to sustain pressure means that the absence of a decisive victory does not necessarily translate into strategic failure for Moscow.

    The political asymmetry is crucial. Putin can subordinate short-term economic considerations to strategic objectives with fewer institutional constraints than democratic leaders face. This does not make Russia immune to inflation, fiscal pressures, casualties, or domestic discontent. It does, however, give the Kremlin considerable latitude to absorb costs while waiting for its opponents’ priorities to change.

    Ukraine faces a different challenge: maintaining national mobilization, defending critical infrastructure and financing a prolonged war while depending heavily on external assistance. Its supporters possess far greater combined economic resources than Russia, but aggregate wealth does not automatically translate into sustained political commitment.

    A coalition can be richer and still become less willing to bear the costs of confrontation. Elections, budget pressures, competing international crises and strategic disagreements can gradually weaken its resolve. Moscow’s opportunity lies not necessarily in defeating Ukraine militarily, but in convincing its supporters that continued resistance costs more than a settlement.

    Recent developments in Washington have made this danger particularly visible. On October 9, Donald Trump announced an agreement with Putin to increase Russian diesel supplies to international markets and relax certain US energy sanctions. The announcement provoked criticism that easing restrictions could provide Moscow with additional revenue and undermine pressure over its invasion of Ukraine. Trump subsequently blamed Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy for obstructing peace efforts and suggested that Ukraine needed a new president.

    On October 11, Trump announced an immediate “energy ceasefire,” without providing clear terms. Ukraine expressed conditional support for halting attacks on energy infrastructure if Russia did the same. Yet Ukrainian officials reported further Russian strikes after the announcement, casting doubt on whether the proposed truce would be implemented effectively. On October 13, Zelenskyy proposed renewed discussions with U.S. envoys Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner.

    The October 21 meeting between Vladimir Putin and US envoy Steve Witkoff illustrates why diplomacy must be assessed alongside the strategic balance of the war. Renewed discussions about trilateral negotiations may create an opening for progress, but the talks themselves do not show that the underlying differences have narrowed. The central question remains whether negotiations produce reciprocal restraint and credible security arrangements or alter the political pressures on Ukraine and its supporters in ways that improve Moscow’s bargaining position. The test is not whether the parties return to the negotiating table, but whether the process changes the incentives sustaining the conflict.

    These developments do not prove that Washington has abandoned Kyiv or that Moscow has secured a strategic victory. They nevertheless expose a vulnerability Russia could exploit: negotiations, energy interests and domestic political pressures could weaken the cohesion of Ukraine’s supporters.

    The distinction between diplomatic progress and strategic progress therefore matters. An agreement that reduces immediate energy costs or temporarily pauses attacks may be useful. But if economic concessions relieve pressure on Moscow without securing reciprocal commitments, they could strengthen Russia’s capacity to prolong the war. Diplomacy can contain conflict, yet it can also redistribute leverage.

    Russia’s own position remains precarious. High military expenditure, inflationary pressures, demographic constraints and technological restrictions impose significant costs. If Ukraine continues adapting its forces, Europe expands its defense-industrial capacity and sanctions increasingly constrain Russia’s military economy, time could erode Moscow’s advantages rather than reinforce them.

    Time is not inherently pro-Russian. Its strategic value depends on who adapts more effectively to its costs. This is also why negotiations and prolonged warfare are not necessarily contradictory. A leadership that believes continued fighting may improve its position has little incentive to accept unfavorable terms today. It can still negotiate to test opponents’ red lines, identify divisions within their coalitions and explore whether a settlement might eventually deliver its objectives at lower cost.

    The central question is not whether Moscow wants peace. It is what conditions the Kremlin believes must exist before peace becomes preferable to continued war. If those conditions depend on weakening Ukraine’s military position and eroding Western political commitment, prolongation itself becomes part of the bargaining strategy.

    The same logic applies to Kyiv and its partners. Their objective cannot simply be to survive another year. They must ensure that another year does not systematically improve Russia’s bargaining position.

    History offers both warnings and lessons. The Korean War produced an armistice without decisive victory, while the Iran-Iraq War demonstrated how governments could sustain extraordinary costs when they believed continued fighting might improve their position. During the Cold War, Soviet leaders also relied on the expectation that time would expose divisions within Western societies. Such calculations can generate leverage, but they can equally lead to exhaustion, overreach and miscalculation.

    Strategic time dominance is therefore a wager, not a prediction. Russia is betting that its political system can absorb the costs of war longer than Ukraine and its supporters can sustain the burden of resistance. Ukraine and its partners are betting that military adaptation, economic pressure and political cohesion will eventually make continued fighting more costly for Moscow than compromise.

    The outcome will depend on more than territorial gains. It will turn on defense production, economic resilience, alliance cohesion and the credibility of security commitments. It will also depend on whether diplomatic initiatives produce reciprocal restraint or let one side consolidate advantages while pressuring the other to concede.

    The most important battlefield may therefore be the one that does not appear on a map: the political calculation of what tomorrow will cost. The critical question is not whether Russia is winning time, but whether it can make time work more in its favor than in Ukraine’s and the West’s.

    That contest remains unresolved. The West’s challenge is to sustain a strategy that makes continued aggression progressively less rewarding for Moscow. Otherwise, Russia may gain through endurance what it has struggled to achieve through military force alone.