The lights have gone out in Crimea. Again. A fresh power cut has plunged the occupied peninsula into darkness, a logistical humiliation for Moscow that exposes the frail sinews of its imperial adventure.
Yet as Vladimir Putin’s war machine sputters in the blackout, Western capitals rush to reaffirm their solidarity with Kyiv. Britain, ever the stalwart troubadour of lost causes, leads the chorus. But one must ask: are we witnessing the terminal decline of a rogue state, or merely the latest act in a tragedy of our own making?
The power cut itself is a tactical reminder that modern warfare is as much about cables and transformers as tanks and missiles. Ukraine’s strikes on energy infrastructure, though cruel in their effect on civilians, are a legitimate act of self-defence. Crimea, annexed in 2014 with a sham referendum that would embarrass a banana republic, remains sovereign Ukrainian territory.
Denying the occupier electricity is no different from poisoning the wells of an invading army. Yet the deeper question gnaws at me. Are we, the collective West, prepared for the consequences of our own rhetoric?
Every time a British minister vows support for Kyiv for ‘as long as it takes,’ he conjures the ghosts of Gallipoli and the Somme. Noble sentiments, yes, but sentiments that have a habit of lingering long after the noble cause has curdled into quagmire. The Victorians understood this: they fought small wars for limited objectives.
We, in our decadence, fight existential wars with unlimited aims and limited patience. The power cut in Crimea will not break Russia. It will not cause Putin to weep into his borscht.
It will, however, harden the resolve of those who see the West as a decadent and untrustworthy actor. And herein lies the rub. We base our policy on the idea that Russia can be defeated utterly, that Crimea will return to Ukraine, that the post-1991 order will be restored.
This is not strategy; it is theology. A theology that assumes history has ended, and that liberal democracy is the only permissible god. But history, as I have written before, is a polytheistic affair.
The darkness over Crimea is a metaphor for the deeper obscurity of our own intentions. The British government, as ever, will send more generators, more cables, more statements of unwavering support. It will do so because the alternative – admitting that the war is unwinnable on our terms – is politically unpalatable.
But nations, like people, must eventually face the dawn. And when the sun rises over a Crimea still in Russian hands, we shall have to ask ourselves: was this magnificent obsession worth the candle?
