The Incursion That Rewrote the Rules
Three weeks into Ukraine's cross-border operation into Russia's Kursk Oblast, Good Times Bad Times delivers a comprehensive battlefield assessment that doubles as a meditation on deterrence theory. The analysis arrives at a moment when the conventional wisdom about this war -- that Ukraine would remain perpetually on the defensive, that Russia's nuclear red lines constrained Western and Ukrainian decision-making -- has been upended by facts on the ground. What the report captures is not merely a territorial shift but a psychological one, and that distinction matters more than the square kilometers involved.
The scale of the operation is striking on its own terms. Ukrainian forces have seized roughly 1,200 square kilometers, including 93 settlements and the town of Sudzha, extending their reach eastward and northward while simultaneously repelling Russian counterattacks. The report notes that this territory is roughly equivalent to what Russia captured across the entirety of 2024's first half -- achieved in a matter of days with comparatively minimal Ukrainian casualties and approximately 500 Russian prisoners taken.
The Nuclear Bluff, Called
The most consequential dimension of the Kursk operation may not be territorial at all. The analysis makes a pointed argument about nuclear deterrence that has implications far beyond this particular front. In theory, an attack on the core territory of a nuclear power should trigger the most severe response imaginable. In practice, it has triggered nothing of the sort.
The reasoning is laid out with unusual clarity: Moscow could deploy a limited tactical nuclear warhead, but doing so would be counterproductive because Ukraine has made clear that such an attack would not alter its posture. The only outcome would be global ostracism and the neutralization of Russia's ultimate strategic card.
This logic is compelling but not without its critics. Some Western defense analysts argue that nuclear deterrence operates on a spectrum, and that each escalatory step without consequence makes the next step more likely rather than less. The fact that Russia has not used nuclear weapons in Kursk does not necessarily mean the threshold has been permanently raised -- it may simply mean it has not yet been reached. Putin's calculus could shift dramatically if, for instance, Ukrainian forces pushed significantly deeper into Russian territory or threatened strategically vital infrastructure.
Still, the Ukrainian leadership's bet appears to have paid off in the near term. By demonstrating that the feared escalation did not materialize, Kyiv has strengthened its case that Western restrictions on weapons use -- particularly the prohibition on long-range strikes deep into Russian territory -- rest on assumptions that events have overtaken.
Weapons and the Permission Problem
The report clarifies an important point about American weapons policy. Washington does permit the use of U.S. offensive weapons in the Kursk operation, provided they are fired from Ukrainian territory at border-area targets. HIMARS rockets and GBU-39 guided bombs, along with French AASM munitions, contributed significantly to the operation's success -- particularly in neutralizing a Russian convoy in the invasion's early days and destroying bridges to cut off Russian forces from reinforcement.
The restriction that remains is on longer-range systems. ATACMS and Storm Shadow missiles are still prohibited from striking high-value targets deeper inside Russia. The analysis frames this as a barrier that may eventually fall, consistent with the pattern of gradual red-line erosion that has characterized Western policy throughout the war.
The counterpoint here is that Washington's caution is not merely performative. The distinction between border-area strikes and deep strikes into Russian territory reflects a calibrated escalation management strategy. Permitting HIMARS use near Kursk is qualitatively different from authorizing cruise missile strikes on Russian airbases or command centers hundreds of kilometers from the front. Whether that distinction holds strategic water is debatable, but dismissing it as pure timidity oversimplifies the calculation.
The Pokrovsk Problem
For all the optimism surrounding Kursk, the analysis does not shy away from the darker picture in Donbas. While Ukraine was launching its boldest offensive action of the war, Russia continued grinding forward on its primary axis toward Pokrovsk, a city of 60,000 pre-war residents. Russian forces have advanced to within 12 kilometers of the city. The towns of Zhelanne and Tykhonivka have fallen. Ukrainian forces are conducting controlled withdrawals to preserve their battalions.
Near Toretsk, the situation is similarly grim. Ukrainian forces have withdrawn from the village of Pivnichne, putting Russian troops on the outskirts of a city with a pre-war population of 30,000. The report notes that some Russian units were redeployed from secondary fronts -- Robotyne, Chasiv Yar, and northern Kyiv Oblast among them -- to reinforce Kursk, but the main axes of advance in Donbas have not been meaningfully weakened.
This is the fundamental tension at the heart of the Kursk gamble. The operation has been tactically brilliant and psychologically devastating for Moscow, but the strategic arithmetic remains stubborn. Ukrainian forces are stretched thin across a vast front, and manpower shortages persist. Every soldier defending newly captured Russian territory is a soldier not defending Pokrovsk or Toretsk. Retired General Mikan praised the operation as evidence that Ukraine had learned from the failed Zaporizhzhia offensive, demonstrating flexibility where rigidity had previously produced costly stalemates. Whether that flexibility can compensate for raw numerical disadvantage over a sustained period is the question the analysis leaves open.
Belarus: The Threat That Isn't
Ukrainian intelligence reported on August 25 that Belarus had amassed significant forces -- including special forces, Wagner fighters, and heavy equipment -- in the Homel region along the Ukrainian border. The analysis treats this with appropriate skepticism. Rohan Consulting, which closely monitors Belarusian military movements, assesses the threat of a new northern front as negligible. The Belarusian military remains weak, any offensive would require broad mobilization, the border approaches are mined and fortified, and Alexander Lukashenko would be starting a war without popular support while risking guerrilla resistance and a possible military coup.
The more useful frame is that the exercises represent Lukashenko's response to Kremlin pressure for greater involvement -- a performative show of solidarity that stops well short of the operational commitment Moscow wants. It is pressure management, not war preparation.
The Air War and the Telegram Problem
Russia's massive aerial attack on August 26 -- more than 100 missiles and 100 drones targeting energy infrastructure across nearly the entire country -- underscored that the war's destructive logic operates on multiple planes simultaneously. The strike package included Kinzhal, Iskander, Kalibr, Kh-101, and North Korean KN-23 missiles alongside Iranian Shahed drones. Among the targets was the Dnipro hydroelectric dam, which holds 3.7 billion tons of water. The dam's condition reportedly remains under control, but power cuts have been announced.
Ukraine's retaliatory strikes have been no less pointed. The attack on the Proletarsk fuel depot on August 18 produced a fire that burned continuously for ten days -- a record for this war -- before being struck again on August 24. Analysis indicates between 20 and 30 fuel tanks were consumed. Ukrainian drones also reached the Marinovka air base, likely damaging Su-24 and Su-25 fighters.
Perhaps the most unexpected disruption, however, came from a Paris airport. The arrest of Pavel Durov, Telegram's founder, at Le Bourget sent shockwaves through the Russian military infosphere. Telegram serves as the primary communication platform for Russian forces, and the fear that Durov might provide Western intelligence services with access to encrypted communications prompted some military bloggers to begin migrating to government-controlled alternatives like VKontakte. The irony is sharp: a move to government-controlled platforms would give the Kremlin greater control over its own critics while potentially making Russian military communications more vulnerable to Ukrainian and Western exploitation through less secure channels.
Bottom Line
The Kursk operation has achieved something rare in this war: it has changed the psychological terms of engagement without resolving the underlying strategic deadlock. Ukraine demonstrated that it can seize initiative, that nuclear red lines are less rigid than assumed, and that its military leadership has grown more adaptive. Commander Alexander Syrskyi's promotion to four-star general reflects the institutional recognition of that growth.
But the operation's success exists in tension with the deteriorating situation in Donbas. The report's juxtaposition of Ukrainian audacity in Kursk with Ukrainian retreat near Pokrovsk is the most important structural choice it makes. Both things are true simultaneously, and the war's trajectory depends on which dynamic proves more durable.
President Volodymyr Zelensky's framing captures the philosophy driving Ukraine's current approach: to survive, Kyiv must create as many problems as possible for the Russian state on its own territory. The Kursk operation is the most dramatic expression of that logic to date. Whether it proves to be a turning point or a brilliant tactical success within a losing strategic position will depend on decisions yet to be made -- in Kyiv, in Moscow, and above all in Washington.