Russia is losing (time) in Ukraine? [Mapped]

The Arithmetic of Attrition

Good Times Bad Times delivers a cartographic tour of the Ukraine front lines circa May 2024, but the most compelling argument in the piece has nothing to do with troop movements. It is an economic one: that Russia, not Ukraine, is the party running out of time. The claim deserves serious scrutiny, because it cuts against a narrative that has dominated Western commentary for more than a year—namely, that Moscow can simply grind its way to victory through sheer mass.

The analysis hinges on a striking set of asymmetries. Russia devotes roughly 7 percent of its GDP and 35 percent of its federal budget to the war effort. Ukraine, far smaller, commits an even more staggering 35 percent of its GDP. The West, meanwhile, contributes what amounts to a rounding error—0.4 percent of its combined output over two years of conflict. The piece frames this in bluntly memorable terms:

Taking the perspective of an average person who produces $2,000 worth of products in his work, this is equivalent to spending $8 on a meal at McDonald’s.

The implication is clear: the West could sustain Ukraine indefinitely without feeling meaningful economic pain, while Russia is burning through its reserves at an unsustainable rate. The International Institute for Strategic Studies is cited as estimating that Russia possesses military-economic resources for roughly five years of war at current intensity—placing the conflict, by this reckoning, at its halfway point.

Tactical Gains, Strategic Questions

On the ground, the picture is more mixed than the economic argument suggests. Russia launched a cross-border incursion into northern Kharkiv Oblast in mid-May 2024, pushing 5 to 10 kilometers into Ukrainian territory in the direction of Vovchansk and Lyptsi. The analysis frames this as operationally limited—insufficient forces for a genuine assault on Kharkiv city—and instead interprets it as an effort to create a buffer zone around Belgorod and to stretch Ukraine's already thin manpower.

President Putin himself confirmed this reading, stating the operation aimed to establish a buffer zone. President Zelensky countered that Ukrainian forces had stabilized the front and that Russian troops had not reached the strongest defensive lines. The piece treats both claims with appropriate skepticism, noting that the offensive lost momentum after the initial breakthrough.

Elsewhere, the front lines tell a story of incremental Russian advances purchased at enormous cost. Near Chasiv Yar, Russian forces occupied most of the forest separating Ivanivske from the settlement but gained only about 3 kilometers in two months. Near Avdiivka, progress was more significant—up to 8 kilometers—but the strategic objective, the H-32 road linking Kostiantynivka and Pokrovsk, remains in Ukrainian hands. In southern Ukraine, the front has scarcely moved in twelve months.

The Refinery Campaign and Its Critics

Perhaps the most consequential battlefield is not a battlefield at all. Ukraine's systematic drone campaign against Russian refineries has, according to one NATO official, reduced Russian refining capacity by 15 percent, forcing Moscow to ban gasoline exports for six months. The analysis makes a sharp distinction that Western critics of the campaign have largely missed:

The attacks reduce Russian refining capacity but not crude oil exports. In other words, the Russians are forced to sell cheaper unrefined oil instead of more expensive refined oil.

This undercuts the American objection, voiced by Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, that Ukraine should focus on tactical and operational targets rather than strategic ones like refineries. The piece argues that each refinery hit potentially shortens the war by days, forcing Russia to forfeit the high margins on refined petroleum products while continuing to export cheaper crude.

There is a counterpoint worth raising, however. Russia's energy infrastructure is vast, and the Kremlin has demonstrated a willingness to absorb economic pain that would be politically intolerable in a democracy. The 15 percent reduction in refining capacity, while significant, has not visibly altered Russian military operations. Moscow can redirect crude exports, accept lower margins, and extract revenue from its citizens through austerity measures. The economic clock may be ticking, but authoritarian regimes have historically proven capable of running on fumes far longer than rational economic analysis would predict.

The Energy Vulnerability Mirror

Russia's retaliatory strikes on Ukrainian energy infrastructure present the other side of this equation, and it is considerably darker. A massive attack on May 8 launched 55 cruise and ballistic missiles accompanied by 21 drones against energy facilities across multiple Ukrainian regions. The consequences have been severe:

As a result of this and many other attacks, up to 70% of Ukraine’s energy infrastructure is now destroyed, damaged, or in occupied territory.

Ukrainian operator DTEK reported temporarily losing up to 90 percent of its generating capacity. Ukraine has been forced to import energy from Poland, Romania, and Slovakia. This is not a symmetric exchange of blows. Ukraine is hitting Russian profit margins; Russia is hitting Ukrainian survival infrastructure. Zelensky's pivot from requesting offensive weapons to prioritizing air defense systems reflects this grim reality.

The Manpower Equation

The analysis acknowledges Russia's significant advantage in conscription potential—estimated at 4-to-1 or even 5-to-1. Ukraine's new mobilization law, which took effect on May 18, represents Kyiv's attempt to address this gap. But the piece argues that raw numbers tell an incomplete story. Russia's equipment losses are outpacing its production capacity. Michael Kofman, one of the most closely watched analysts of the conflict, is cited as doubting that new Russian production can replace even 20 percent of current losses. The appearance of 70-year-old T-54 tanks on the front lines offers visual confirmation of this strain.

The counterargument is that Ukraine faces its own acute manpower crisis, one that mobilization laws alone cannot solve. Recruitment is politically fraught, and the soldiers being conscripted in 2024 lack the training and motivation of those who volunteered in the war's early months. Quality of forces matters as much as quantity, and both sides are fielding increasingly exhausted and undertrained units.

Waiting for the Pendulum

The strategic framework the analysis proposes is essentially one of managed decline on the Russian side and patient endurance on the Ukrainian side. Zelensky, it argues, has shifted from demanding immediate Western escalation to calmly managing expectations, understanding that time may favor Ukraine if the current level of Western support merely holds steady. The piece quotes Kofman's assessment from before the U.S. aid announcement:

If Ukraine can hold through 2024, Russia’s current advantage in this war does not necessarily increase or become decisive but instead can decrease over time.

This is a plausible reading, but it carries significant assumptions. It assumes Western political will remains stable through election cycles in the United States and Europe. It assumes Ukraine's population can endure years more of bombardment and energy deprivation without societal fracture. It assumes the Kremlin cannot find new sources of military equipment from China, North Korea, or Iran at a scale sufficient to offset domestic production shortfalls. Each of these assumptions is contestable.

The analysis also underweights the possibility of a negotiated settlement—not because one is imminent, but because the economic pressures it describes could push both sides toward talks before either achieves military victory. Wars of attrition historically end not when one side runs out of resources entirely, but when the political cost of continuing exceeds the political cost of compromise.

Bottom Line

The case that Russia is losing the long game in Ukraine is economically coherent but politically uncertain. The numbers on defense spending, refinery damage, and equipment attrition all point toward mounting pressure on Moscow. But wars are not spreadsheet exercises. Russia's willingness to absorb punishment, its access to external suppliers, and the fragility of Western political consensus all introduce variables that pure economic analysis cannot capture. The most honest reading of the evidence is that the war has become a test of endurance in which neither side holds a decisive advantage—and in which the outcome depends less on what happens on the front lines than on which coalition's political will fractures first.