Mathematics for Warmongers

The Spanish PM, Pedro Sánchez, announced during his visit to Kyiv this past Monday (February 24, 2025) a new aid package for Ukraine worth one billion euros. He made the announcement with great fanfare, despite the fact that this figure—assuming he even delivers it, given that keeping his word is not his strong suit—is only 20% of what Germany provided to Zelensky last year and represents a mere 0.06% of Spain's GDP.

At the same time, the main opposition leader, Alberto Núñez Feijóo, was meeting in Genoa—not the city, but the street—with a select group of former defense ministers from the governments of Aznar and Rajoy, former diplomats from their international teams, and experts whose latest idea is that Trump is insane. Feijóo emerged from the meeting publicly renewing his "unconditional support" for Ukraine's defense.

But between one's stinginess and the other's voluntarism, do they really know what they are doing and saying? Do they truly believe that such a limited contribution and empty rhetoric will help Ukraine achieve victory against Russia? The vacation tranquility of Doñana or Lanzarote, or the distance provided by the seventh floor of the PP headquarters in Madrid, prevents our political leaders from fully grasping the military challenge posed by the confrontation between Ukrainian defense forces and the Russian army as they mark the third anniversary of the Russian invasion.

On real War

First, from Russia’s supposed to be but failed blitzkrieg in 2022 to Ukraine’s frustrated summer offensive in 2023, the war has consolidated into a positional conflict with very low mobility, breaking the pattern of conflicts fought by Western powers in recent decades and taking us back to major conflicts like World War I.

Second, this war can be classified as high-intensity not only because of the harshness of the battles but, above all, due to two key factors: the extremely high consumption of ammunition and the high number of combat casualties. Consider, for example, that at the peak of the fighting in 2022, Russian forces were firing an average of 60,000 artillery rounds per day, while Ukrainians fired between 15,000 and 20,000. As for casualties, the figures remain a great enigma due to the secrecy maintained by both sides. Nevertheless, NATO, the Pentagon, and the UK Ministry of Defense are largely aligned in their estimates of around 700,000 Russian casualties—dead and wounded—since February 2022, and nearly half a million Ukrainian casualties, despite the much lower officially acknowledged numbers (Kyiv recently reported 43,000 soldiers and 12,000 civilian deaths). In any case, these figures represent a high cost for a country like Russia, with 145 million people, and an even higher cost for Ukraine, which currently has around 31 million residents on its territory and about 8 million living abroad.

Third, unless new breakthrough technologies revolutionize the battlefield—something not expected now—the war of positions is being fought as a war of attrition: economically, industrially, militarily, and in human terms. And if military history, rich as it is, teaches us anything, it is that wars of attrition always favor those with greater economic and industrial strength, as they have superior capacity to supply their forces with equipment and ammunition, and a demographic advantage allowing for greater troop mobilization and replacement of casualties over time.

Those who base their support for Ukraine on emotions—either out of guilt at the thought of abandoning the victim to the aggressor or on the well-intentioned need to uphold international law over brute force—should ask themselves two key questions: first, what kind of "victory" do we seek? And second, do we have the means to achieve it? Put another way, does unconditional support for Ukraine imply the full restoration of its pre-2014 borders, including Crimea? Does it require the military and political defeat of Russia, including Putin’s downfall? And given Ukraine’s significant military shortcomings and total dependence on foreign weaponry, will financial and military aid suffice, or should we, as Macron suggests, consider sending European troops?

Regarding the first issue, a vision of victory, it is easiest to align with Zelensky's maximalist statements, as he understandably desires a Ukraine of 1991 and a pre-Putin Russia. Regarding the second, everything boils down to increasing military aid as the only viable solution. But European allies will make yet another strategic mistake if they believe their current defense industrial capabilities can guarantee Ukraine’s victory.

On War Accounting

As this war has reminded us, any high-intensity conflict vitally requires two things: weapons and soldiers.

Let’s start with weapons. Caught off guard in February 2022, NATO members initially responded to Ukraine’s military aid needs by supplying defense systems from their existing military stockpiles. Thus, in the first year of the war, 90% of military aid came from existing stockpiles to the point that then-EU High Representative Josep Borrell raised the alarm over the drastic depletion of allied arsenals. Some countries, like the United Kingdom, reportedly had enough supplies for no more than a week of sustained combat. Other nations, such as Germany, Italy, and Spain, likely had even less.

It is worth mentioning here that the armed forces and their corresponding arsenals had been drastically reduced from their levels in the early 1990s, under the belief that conventional warfare had become obsolete following the collapse of the USSR. A frontline country like Germany, for example, had around 6,000 tanks in 1991, but this number had dropped to 2,500 by 2004 and to just 339 by 2021. It should also be noted that this reduction in weapons systems led to a severe contraction of the defense industries and their ability to maintain production lines.

As the months passed and the war became bogged down, military aid to Ukraine began to come from factories rather than just from existing stockpiles. With variations among allies, the average share of Ukraine’s acquired military equipment that came from manufacturers had already exceeded 60% last year.

However, regardless of the source of the material, the pace of wartime consumption has always far outstripped what could be supplied to Ukraine. At the beginning of 2024, Ukrainian military authorities warned that they needed around 20,000 artillery rounds per week but were receiving only 2,000. Over the months, that number has increased to 9,000, still far below their requests. This explains the decline in combat intensity in various frontline areas and, more importantly, the inability to achieve the firepower superiority required for successful offensive operations.

Europeans take pride in having put their countries into a kind of war economy, aimed at improving defense industrial capabilities and, with it, support for Ukraine. The problem is that, starting from such low production levels, any improvement may seem significant, but that does not mean it is sufficient. It must not be measured against one’s past performance but against the capabilities of the adversary—in this case, Russia.

For example, if we refer to one of the most decisive munitions on the battlefield—155 mm artillery shells—the United States produced fewer than 200,000 annually before the invasion of February 2022. Currently, production has reached 720,000, with the goal of surpassing one million this year. The German company Rheinmetall, with factories not only in Germany but also in Spain and other locations, produced fewer than 100,000 shells per year at the beginning of 2022 but has now increased output to 700,000.

In 2022, European production in an entire year matched what the Russians consumed in just one month of combat, and this situation has changed. However, not to the extent that victory through the defense industry can be assured. Today, Russia produces and deploys more than 3 million artillery shells annually—twice as many as all of Ukraine’s allies combined. Even worse, its defense base continues to grow.

The idea that the sanctions regime would prevent Russia from sustaining its war effort has proven entirely unfounded. Not only had Russia been preparing for sanctions since the first measures imposed after its capture of Crimea in 2014, but the current sanctions regime is only respected by the Western bloc, while Russia maintains its military cooperation with key nations like China and Iran, as well as North Korea. If we consider components rather than ammunition, we must also consider India, Vietnam, and Brazil, among others. It is possible that sanctions may, in the long term, hinder Russia’s military modernization, but they have had no impact on the battlefield—and will not in the foreseeable future.

Thus, one thing is clear: for now, Russia can outmatch us in military regeneration capacity when it comes to weapon systems and ammunition. More importantly, in the absence of U.S. support, Europe would need to invest three or four times more in defense than it does now, requiring an annual average of 4.5% of GDP. Even so, it is highly unlikely that such a large effort—amid sluggish economic growth—would come in time to save Ukraine. Establishing new factories and production lines takes months, if not years. And Ukraine does not have that time.

For example, according to the now-renowned Kiel Institute, guardian of the Ukraine Tracker, which meticulously measures the aid each country provides to Ukraine, at the current German tank production rate, it would take 40 years to reach 2004 inventory levels—meaning by 2066. By 2038, Germany would have balanced its number of combat aircraft, and by 2043, its inventory of infantry fighting vehicles.

Although 2004 figures may not necessarily be the target (even though we are talking about only 240 fighter jets, for example), there is no doubt that the lack of military and industrial strength in Germany and across Europe is evident. Kyiv estimates that it needs around 5,000 anti-aircraft missiles to continue its defense, yet the United States can only produce 3,600, with the rest of NATO producing another 1,000. It is unimaginable that European countries could compensate for any reduction in U.S. support. The same issue applies to drones, with estimated annual needs of around 100,000 units.

If, as everything suggests, Russia maintains its advantage in acquiring and manufacturing the weapons systems shaping this war—mainly artillery, missiles, and drones—victory is far from near. Quite the opposite. Despite continued claims that support for Ukraine will last "as long as necessary" and remains "unconditional," the reality is that in this arms race, the allies are at a clear disadvantage.

On the Human Factor

Weapons do not fire themselves; they require soldiers to operate them. And here, in the midst of a war of attrition, Ukraine faces a serious problem: it is running out of combatants.

Eleven years ago, when Russia annexed Crimea, Ukraine officially had a population of 44 million. After losing the peninsula, it also lost two million people, reducing its population to 42 million. When Russia annexed Donetsk and Luhansk, Ukraine lost another four million, dropping to just over 38 million inhabitants. Since the 2022 invasion, about 8 million Ukrainians have left the country, although government measures to force the return of many military-age men reduced that figure by one million last year. Today, Ukraine has approximately 31 million people (with 5 million internally displaced), compared to Russia’s population of over 140 million.

This disparity is even more pronounced when it comes to mobilization and sustaining the war effort.

One of the main reasons for the failure of Putin’s so-called "special operation" was his initial reluctance to mobilize the necessary personnel to keep combat units fighting effectively. The Kremlin initially avoided mass conscription, but that changed the following year. Since then, Russia has been able to send around 30,000 new soldiers to the front each month.

Despite their willingness to fight, fatigue is an undeniable factor in Ukraine’s defensive lines. With an average age of 43 and prolonged deployments—not to mention the appalling frontline conditions, with widespread troop dispersion and the majority of time spent under cover to avoid drone and artillery attacks—Ukraine needs to inject fresh manpower into its armed forces.

Last year, Kyiv passed new legislation lowering the enlistment age to 25, and it is now considering economic incentives for young men aged 18 to 25 who volunteer. Regardless, Ukraine only has about 600,000 well-structured soldiers to defend 1,600 kilometers of frontline. Russia maintains around 700,000 troops in the field, but its ability to sustain continuous mobilization gives it a decisive advantage. For Russia, it is only a matter of time.

Ukraine would need to inflict more than 1,000 Russian casualties per day—every day—to counterbalance the Kremlin’s current mobilization and recruitment capabilities. This is not an impossible number. However, as in the past—when Russian casualties were even higher—Western allies banked on eroding Russian morale and stirring internal opposition against Putin. Yet today’s Russia shows resilience despite the strain. Many soldiers come from the country's prisons or remote regions far from Moscow; the population supports the narrative of a war framed by its leaders as existential and civilizational; nationalist sentiment has increased; and Putin’s authoritarian regime ensures that any criticism or dissent is swiftly crushed. Demographics, as in many past conflicts, shape destiny.

On Emotions and Reason

As Clausewitz famously said, war is the continuation of politics by other means. As politics has become less about rational decision-making and more about mobilizing emotions, strategy has taken a backseat to emotional clashes.

For years, Europeans played their game under the security umbrella of the United States, with access to Russian oil and cheap energy, and with China serving as both an ideal export market and a low-cost manufacturing hub. All of that is now over. But what has not ended is the grandiloquent rhetoric that accompanied it.

Trump forces NATO allies and EU members to confront harsh realities. Instead of handing out billions and comforting words, our leaders should be doing their homework and recognizing that their decisions have consequences—some of them very serious.

The only way to guarantee Ukraine’s victory is to provide it with weapon systems that reduce Russia’s force generation, allowing Kyiv’s forces to strike deep inside Russian territory. However, that decision, consistent with what is publicly stated, carries the risk that Russia might consider us co-belligerents and escalate its strategic stakes—something we have sought to avoid at all costs since February 2022. Anything else is merely deepening the chronicle of a foretold defeat.

This is why the allies should seriously consider how to bring peace to this conflict. Sending more money or listening to those whose only argument is that “Trump is crazy” will get us nowhere in that direction. And yes, in this war that no one can win, painful concessions will have to be made—just as the partition of Korea or the division of Germany into two were accepted, because the alternative was collective suicide. This is the time for realism, not for those clinging to ideas that only look good on an academic paper.