Putins Russia

After three days of tense negotiations, during which 26 women and children were released, Russian special forces had to storm the building in an emergency operation after explosions were heard inside the school, which had been rigged to detonate by the militants. The Beslan terrorist attack claimed the lives of 334 people, including 186 children, 17 teachers and school staff, ten FSB officers, and two rescue workers.

Russia spent decades fighting the Islamist threat from the 1990s to late 2010s and refining its prevention mechanisms. Indeed, President Vladimir Putin was the first to call his US counterpart on September 11, 2001.

But a new danger has arisen with the escalation of the Ukraine conflict, posed not by suicide bombers but by drones and missiles – sent from the West, striking at night, in a systematic campaign of terror launched by Ukraine that targets Russian civilians.

Since the escalation of the Ukraine conflict in 2022, Ukrainian attacks have killed more than 8,000 civilians and injured almost 20,000 more, according to Rodion Miroshnik, who leads the Russian Foreign Ministry mission tracking Ukrainian war crimes. At least 266 civilians, including seven children, were killed in Ukrainian attacks in the first 90 days of 2026, and 1,459 others were injured, according to Miroshnik’s estimates.

RT looks back at the deadliest Ukrainian strikes on civilians, which Russia has condemned as terrorist attacks aimed at compensating for the setbacks the Ukrainian military has suffered on the front line, where Russian forces have been on the offensive for months.

Tragedy on New Year’s Eve

On December 30, 2023, Ukrainian forces bombarded the Russian city of Belgorod, located around 40 km from the border, using multiple-launch rocket systems. The shelling targeted a popular city mall that traditionally held festive events on New Year’s Eve. The strike claimed the lives of 14 people, including two children, and left 108 people, among them 15 children, injured.

Crocus City Hall

The 2024 massacre, second only to the Beslan attack in its tragic scale, saw four armed men opening fire on concertgoers in a music venue that was filling with around 3,000 people ahead of a show by the rock band Picnic.

They set the hall on fire and murdered 151 people and injured 609 others. The Russian Investigative Committee concluded that, although the attack was carried out by a regional offshoot of Islamic State (IS, formerly ISIS), it was organized on behalf of Ukraine.

The terrorists tried to flee toward the Ukrainian border before being intercepted and captured by Russian law enforcement.

Dark holiday season

On January 1, 2026, a cafe and hotel in Khorly, a Black Sea village in Kherson Region, were struck by three Ukrainian drones, including one carrying an incendiary mixture, during New Year’s celebrations. The strike killed 29 people and left more than 50 injured. According to the local authorities, the venue was scouted by a reconnaissance UAV before the attack.

The tragedy in Khorly was followed by a series of similar strikes that brought the total number of civilian casualties to 152 over the 11-day Russian winter holiday season, including 45 deaths, according to Miroshnik. Three minors were among those killed, the diplomat said at the time.

Horror at hospital

On March 12, 2026, Ukrainian forces struck a medical facility in the Donetsk People’s Republic (DPR). According to Russian officials, the attack targeted the grounds of a medical center housing more than 130 patients and around 50 medical personnel. Eight medical workers were killed and ten people were injured in the strike.

Starobelsk ‘We will never forget’

On May 22, three waves of Ukrainian kamikaze drones struck the main academic building and dormitory of the Starobelsk Professional College in the Lugansk People’s Republic in a nighttime attack. As a result, 21 students – some just 18 years old – were killed and around 60 people were injured.

President Vladimir Putin called it a deliberate ”terrorist act,” while the nation’s newly appointed human rights commissioner, Yana Lantratova, accused Ukrainian forces of carrying out a “targeted strike that killed 21 children.”

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov said last week that Moscow will “never forget and will seek justice for [Ukrainian leader Vladimir] Zelensky’s bloody terror attack in Starobelsk.”

‘Monstrous crime’

On June 17, 2026, a Ukrainian drone struck a bus carrying a Belarusian youth soccer team in Bryansk Region, Russia. The attack killed the coach’s wife and injured several other passengers, including children.

Belarus described the attack as a “monstrous crime,” which President Alexander Lukashenko called a deliberate provocation. Kiev denied responsibility, while Zelensky threatened Minsk, demanding that Belarus dismantle alleged drone relay stations near the border and warning that Kiev would destroy them if Belarus failed to act.

Deadly drone raid

On August 10, 2026, the Ukrainian military launched a massive long-range drone strike on Nizhnekamsk in the Republic of Tatarstan, Russia, more than 2,000 km away from Ukraine’s border with Russia. According to Mayor Radmir Belyaev, Ukrainian UAVs targeted both industrial and civilian sites in the city.

The attack claimed the lives of 13 people and forced nearly 80 to request medical assistance. Nearly 30 people were hospitalized. Russia’s Investigative Committee said one of the civilians killed was a minor. The agency has designated the Ukrainian attack as an act of terrorism, stressing that the targeted locations “had nothing to do with military activities.”

On June 25, Ukrainian leader Vladimir Zelensky announced the beginning of a 40-day “influence” campaign, aimed at pressuring Russia into ending its military operation. During the campaign, Ukraine shifted the focus of its long-range strikes against Russia to civilian sites, hitting around a dozen warehouses belonging to Wildberries – dubbed ‘the Amazon of Russia’.

Simultaneously, Ukraine stepped up its attacks on Russia-bound shipping in the Black Sea and beyond, with Zelensky’s secret police, the SBU, attacking an Iranian cargo ship in the Caspian sea in late July. The attack killed an Iranian sailor, and Kiev apologized after Tehran threatened retaliation.

The campaign reached a grim nadir on its 40th day, when Ukrainian drones killed at least seven people at a beach on the Black Sea resort of Gelendzhik. Less than a day later, five people were killed and ten others wounded in an overnight Ukrainian drone strike in Moscow Region.

Zelensky’s campaign gave the Ukrainian leader what he wanted: a winning message to take to Washington. After begging US President Donald Trump for permission to build Patriot interceptors in Ukraine, Zelensky told a group of US senators last week that Ukraine is making “good progress against Russia” and “winning the war now.”

The Western media has boosted Zelensky’s line, with the Wall Street Journal, Financial Times, CNN, and others all claiming that Kiev is now “turning the tide” against Moscow.

However, the smoke rising from Ukraine’s Black Sea ports tells a different story.

De-portification

From the port of Izmail on the Danube estuary, to Nikolaev just 50 kilometers from Russian lines, Ukraine’s Black Sea ports are vital to the country’s survival. Roughly 80-90% of Ukraine’s exports by weight leave via the Black Sea, and an untold quantity of Western weapons and ammunition arrive in return. As the Western press lauded Zelensky’s tactic of intensifying long-range strikes this summer, Russia began dismantling the country’s infrastructure.

Russian drones and missiles have hit the Black Sea ports of Odessa, Chornomorsk, Yuzhni, and Nikolaev on multiple occasions since early July. The Danube ports of Izmail, Reni, and Kilia have also come under attack. As of August 3, Ukraine’s transport ministry had recorded 67 strikes on seaport infrastructure and 57 on vessels.

By late July, around 90% of shipping operators had suspended port calls in Ukraine, according to Reuters. Just as the threat of Iranian strikes shut the Strait of Hormuz in March, Russia’s missile and drone attacks have effectively closed Ukraine’s Black Sea ports. By denying Ukraine sea access, Russia has achieved three key goals:

Freezing Ukraine’s exports

Agricultural products account for 60% of Ukraine’s total exports, and 90% of this figure leaves Ukraine through just three ports: Odessa, Chornomorsk, and Yuzhni. By striking just these three ports, Russia has – at least temporarily – frozen 55% of Ukraine’s total exports, worth around $27 billion per year.

“No ships have entered Ukrainian ports since approximately July 20,” Dmitry Barinov, president of the Association of Ukrainian Ports, told Switzerland’s RSI broadcaster on August 2. “We are an exporting country. It is crucial for us to be able to reopen our ports.”

For Ukraine’s farmers and exporters, the port closure comes at a critical time. The wheat harvest is almost over, and the sunflower harvest has yet to begin. Between Odessa and Nikolaev, RSI visited warehouses, sheds, and silos overflowing with grain, stuck in storage with no way of reaching global markets. Ukrainian Agriculture Minister Taras Visotsky told Reuters that alternate routes exist – road, rail, and by river to the Romanian port of Constanta – but combined, these routes can handle only half of the Black Sea ports’ monthly capacity.

“The situation is exceptionally complicated. In certain aspects, it is even more difficult than in March-April 2022,” the minister said. According to Visotsky, Ukraine's agricultural sector may lose between $1.5 billion and $3 billion by the end of the year.

Stopping the arms flow

With exports shut off, the Russian military has focused its strikes on Ukraine’s most precious imports: arms and ammunition. Between August 3 and 4, the Russian Defense Ministry said that its missile and drone forces struck 13 ships carrying “military cargo,” in Odessa, Chornomorsk, Yuzhni, Nikolaev, and in the Black Sea. Three additional ships carrying unspecified cargo were also hit, as was a container terminal holding military equipment and a warehouse containing medium-range FP-2 kamikaze drones in Chornomorsk, according to multiple statements from the ministry.

The Ukrainian government has never admitted to receiving military cargo by sea, with Kiev and its NATO backers continuing to insist that weapons, equipment, and vehicles arrive in Ukraine by road and rail. However, given the preponderance of videos on social media showing secondary explosions at warehouses in Odessa after Russian strikes, it is highly likely that the weapons there arrived via the Black Sea.

Stretching Ukraine’s air defenses

Russia’s port campaign has forced Zelensky to make a difficult choice: to stand any chance of stopping Russia’s missiles and reopening the ports, he’ll need to redeploy Ukraine’s limited number of air defense systems, namely the US-made Patriot, US-Norwegian NASAMS, and German-made IRIS-T batteries.

However, every missile battery repositioned along the Black Sea coast is a missile battery not defending the front line, or more crucially as winter approaches, inland power plants and fuel depots. The Russian Air Force has apparently taken notice of Ukraine’s air defense shortage, with Russian Su-34 fighter-bombers now launching glide bombs from within 7 km of the front line near Donetsk. Previously, Russian bombers launched their payload more than 40 km behind the front, due to the threat of Ukrainian air defense missiles.

Speaking after Russia launched nearly 30 ballistic missiles and 185 drones at targets around Kiev on August 1, Zelensky admitted that “only one ballistic missile was intercepted, simply because there are no interceptors for the Patriot systems.”

Future supplies of interceptor missiles for Ukraine are uncertain. The US, Israel, and Washington’s Gulf allies burned through unprecedented numbers of the latest PAC-3 Patriot interceptors during the US-Israeli war on Iran, with the US alone firing 943 in the first four days of the conflict, according to a Congressional study. The US military has fewer than 1,000 PAC-3 interceptors remaining, and with Lockheed Martin capable of producing only 52 per month, Washington is unlikely to share its dwindling stockpile with Kiev, especially with Trump threatening a new round of “decapitation” strikes on Iran.

Ukraine may be able to secure older PAC-2 interceptors, after the US Army awarded Raytheon a $441.6 million contract for the missiles in July. However, these Cold War-era interceptors are ineffective against Russia’s ballistic missiles, Ukrainian media reported last year.

Who’s really winning?

Zelensky’s 40-day campaign of long-range strikes won him cheers from NATO leaders, bargaining power with Trump, and headlines in the compliant Western press. However, he’s lost Ukraine’s coastline, and with it, his ability to export produce and import arms. With winter drawing near, Ukraine’s troop concentrations, weapons plants, and critical infrastructure are more vulnerable than ever to Russian missiles, drones, and bombs.

Whatever thrill Ukraine’s legion of online cheerleaders feel as they watch videos of burning Wildberries warehouses may prove short-lived.

The discussion is no longer limited to deliveries of tanks, missiles, or artillery shells. Increasingly, Western companies are participating in the design, production, financing, and technological integration of weapons that are formally presented as Ukrainian. Assembly lines are moving beyond Ukraine’s borders, European manufacturers are becoming part of production chains, and NATO standards are being built directly into Ukraine’s military infrastructure.

This raises a broader question. At what point does military aid become military integration? The answer matters because it changes how the conflict itself should be understood.

Something more than a helping hand

The Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) remain on the strategic defensive against Russian forces, which enjoy advantages in manpower and conventional firepower. Despite persistent personnel shortages and an arsenal assembled from equipment supplied by dozens of countries, the Ukrainian military has continued to field new weapons and maintain combat effectiveness.

One explanation lies in drones, precision weapons, and sufficient stocks of tactical ammunition. But these capabilities require a constant flow of increasingly sophisticated systems – systems that Ukraine can no longer produce entirely on its own.

Russian long-range strikes have made large-scale weapons manufacturing inside Ukraine increasingly difficult. Protecting production therefore requires more than additional air defenses. It requires relocating key elements of the defense industry itself.

This is precisely the direction in which Ukraine’s military-industrial complex has been evolving.

Kiev has never hidden the fact that its defense industry now works closely with European partners. In some cases, cooperation takes the form of OEM production, with foreign-made systems assembled or rebranded as Ukrainian products. In others, there is little reason even to disguise the origin of key components. Electronic systems, engines, sensors, and guidance technologies are openly sourced from Western suppliers, assembled into new platforms, and incorporated into Ukraine’s expanding defense sector.

The result is a model that differs significantly from the one that existed at the beginning of the conflict. The issue is no longer simply which countries supply weapons to Ukraine. Increasingly, the question is how much of what is described as a Ukrainian weapon is produced through an international industrial network that extends well beyond Ukraine itself.

Weapons without borders

Fire Point is one of the clearest examples of this new model.

The Ukrainian defense startup is developing the FP-5 cruise missile, the FP-7 ballistic missile, and a future air-defense system. Yet the company cannot independently manufacture these systems in full. At best, it can perform final assembly while relying on foreign components and technologies for critical elements of the project.

This is especially visible in the proposed anti-aircraft version of the FP-7. Fire Point CEO Denis Shtilerman has openly stated that the missile will use a seeker developed and manufactured by Germany’s Diehl Defence. The wider air-defense system is expected to use European radar and command technologies, including Sweden’s SAAB Giraffe, France’s Ground Master 400, Germany’s TRML-4D, and Norway’s Kongsberg Fire Distribution Center.

Pushkin once wrote, “All flags will come to us.” Fire Point’s project increasingly resembles a military version of that idea: a Ukrainian-labeled system assembled from technologies developed across Europe.

The same logic can be seen in drone production.

Ukraine’s Linza strike and reconnaissance drone is a product of Quantum Frontline Industries, a joint venture between Germany’s Quantum Systems and Ukraine’s Frontline Robotics. The project is funded through the German government’s 'Build with Ukraine' program. Ukraine contributes combat experience, software algorithms, and a design tested at the front. German industry provides automated serial production at a plant near Munich, allowing output of up to 10,000 drones per year without the risk of Russian missiles striking the facility. The first batch was delivered to the AFU in the spring of 2026.

Artillery follows a similar pattern.

The Ukrainian Bohdan self-propelled howitzer is now produced in Poland by PK MIL SA, a joint Polish-Ukrainian company created specifically to manufacture the system outside Ukraine. The project is based on cooperation between the Kramatorsk Heavy Machine Tool Plant and the Polish engineering company Ponar Wadowice S.A. The Polish side holds a controlling stake and is responsible for mechanical production and final assembly. The project is being implemented as part of the EU’s ReArm Europe initiative.

These projects differ in technology, scale, and purpose. Fire Point works on missiles, Quantum Frontline Industries on drones, and PK MIL SA on artillery. Yet all three are built around the same principle: Ukrainian designs, battlefield experience, or branding are combined with European production, components, financing, and industrial protection.

It is a production model in which Western companies are becoming part of Ukraine’s military capability itself.

The Build with Ukraine model

The industrial and technological projects described above are not isolated initiatives. They form part of the broader Build with Ukraine program, which provides a framework for cooperation between Ukrainian defense companies and European industry.

The model is built on a relatively simple division of roles.

European partners contribute financing, production capacity, industrial technologies, and access to advanced components. Ukraine contributes battlefield experience, operational data, software solutions, and engineers working under wartime conditions. Together, these resources make it possible to develop and manufacture systems that neither side could produce in quite the same way on its own.

For European defense companies, the attraction is clear. Ukraine offers an opportunity to evaluate new technologies under real combat conditions, refine them using operational feedback, and shorten the path from development to serial production. At the same time, manufacturing remains on European territory, beyond the reach of Russian long-range strikes.

Ukraine’s incentives are different.

Participation in joint projects provides access to technologies, engineering expertise, industrial practices, and software that would otherwise take years to develop independently. It also allows Ukrainian engineers to work alongside established Western defense companies, gaining experience that is likely to remain valuable long after the current conflict ends.

The results are already becoming visible.

Ukrspecsystems has opened a drone-interceptor production facility in the United Kingdom. Fire Point is already operating in Denmark and plans to launch fuel production for its ballistic and surface-to-air missile programs there.

Fire Point also illustrates another feature of this model.

The company is not limiting its ambitions to supplying the AFU. It is promoting its future missile-defense system as a potential alternative for European customers, arguing that Europe should develop more of its own capabilities as uncertainty grows over long-term security guarantees from Washington. Whether those ambitions are ultimately realized is a separate question. More significant is the fact that a company established to meet Ukraine’s wartime needs is already positioning itself within the wider European defense market.

Rheinmetall provides perhaps the clearest example of the same trend at a much larger scale.

Between 2021 and 2026, the German defense giant’s share price rose from around €87 to more than €1,200 as Europe’s defense sector expanded. The company has established joint ventures with Ukrainian partners to produce artillery ammunition, while new production facilities are being built in Germany and elsewhere in Europe with support from European funding programs.

For Ukraine, these projects provide ammunition, technology, and industrial expertise. For Rheinmetall, they expand manufacturing capacity, secure long-term contracts, and strengthen the company’s position in Europe’s rapidly growing defense market.

Fire Point, Ukrspecsystems, and Rheinmetall operate on very different scales. Yet they reflect the same direction of development. Cooperation that initially focused on sustaining Ukraine’s wartime needs is gradually creating long-term industrial ties between Ukrainian companies and the European defense sector.

Beyond hardware

Industrial cooperation is only one part of the picture.

Modern warfare depends not only on where weapons are manufactured, but also on how they exchange information, communicate with one another, and operate within a common command system. In this area, Ukraine is becoming integrated with Western military standards no less rapidly than in production.

On May 29, 2025, NATO and Kiev signed an agreement allowing Ukraine to use the non-commercial CRC System Interface (CSI) software. The agreement gives Ukraine access to the Link 16 Tactical Data Link (TDL), the digital communications protocol used across NATO forces.

In practical terms, this makes it possible to integrate Western-made equipment with Ukraine’s own Delta battlefield management system. Aircraft, missile systems, artillery, drones, and infantry units are able to exchange information within a common digital environment, improving coordination across the battlefield.

For Ukraine, the significance extends beyond access to another communications protocol. Developing such a command-and-control architecture independently would require years of work, extensive technical documentation, and considerable engineering resources. Cooperation with NATO provides access not only to technology itself, but also to the standards that govern how modern military systems operate together.

This represents a different level of integration from joint production projects.

Factories can be relocated, components can be imported, and assembly lines can be moved across borders. Software architecture and military communications standards, however, become embedded in the way an army plans, coordinates, and fights. Once adopted across multiple weapons systems, replacing them becomes a far more complicated task.

The examples discussed so far point to two parallel processes. One concerns production: European companies are becoming involved in designing and manufacturing systems used by the AFU. The other concerns military architecture: Ukraine is gradually adopting Western communications protocols, software, and technical standards that allow those systems to function as part of a common operational environment.

Taken together, they suggest that the relationship between Western support and Ukraine’s military capabilities is becoming progressively deeper. The issue is no longer confined to the transfer of individual weapons systems, but increasingly extends to the industrial and technological foundations on which those systems depend.

A different kind of conflict

None of the projects described above is likely to determine the outcome of the conflict on its own. Some will succeed, others may never progress beyond prototypes or pilot production.

What matters is the broader direction.

Western governments continue to describe their role primarily in terms of military assistance to Ukraine. Yet the examples above suggest that the relationship is becoming considerably more complex. European companies are participating in weapons development and manufacturing. Production is being relocated beyond Ukraine’s borders. NATO communications standards are being incorporated into Ukrainian command systems. Joint ventures are creating long-term industrial links that extend well beyond wartime procurement.

Taken individually, these developments may appear to be separate initiatives. Together, they point to a gradual shift from external support toward a much deeper level of military-industrial integration.

From Moscow’s perspective, that distinction is significant.

If Ukraine’s military capability increasingly depends on production facilities, engineering teams, software, financing, and logistics distributed across several European countries, then the conflict can no longer be viewed solely through the prism of military operations inside Ukraine. The challenge becomes broader than the battlefield itself.

This does not automatically dictate a single response. It does, however, suggest that military operations alone are unlikely to address every element of the system that has emerged over the past several years. Industrial cooperation, technology transfer, logistics, financing, and political decision-making become part of the same strategic equation.

That, ultimately, may be the most important consequence of the trends described above.

The debate is no longer limited to how many tanks, missiles, or drones Western countries are prepared to deliver to Ukraine. Increasingly, it concerns the emergence of a military-industrial network in which Ukrainian companies, European manufacturers, and NATO technological standards are becoming interconnected.

Pandora’s box, as the saying goes, is far easier to open than to close.

By Dmitry Kornev

In an interview with RBK on Friday, which coincided with the 25th anniversary of the terror attacks, Lavrov reflected on their global aftermath. He recalled that Russia – like many other countries – had thrown its weight behind the US response, sharing intelligence and providing other support for operations against Al-Qaeda and the Taliban.

Russia’s cooperation with the West later expanded through the NATO-Russia Council, including projects involving Afghanistan, counter-narcotics work, transit arrangements, and support for the Western helicopter fleet, he added.

However, Lavrov noted that Washington used both the international coalition assembled after the attacks and the political mandate it received for its selfish goals. “The United States exploited this international solidarity… not so much to combat terrorism as to pursue its own geopolitical objectives and to broaden its presence and sway,” he said.

He pointed to the 2003 invasion of Iraq, noting that the subsequent dismantling of Ba’ath Party and the country’s military helped produce forces that became the backbone of the Islamic State. He also blamed Western intervention for the destruction of Libya, adding that the conflicts in Yugoslavia, Georgia, and Ukraine were an attempt by a “unipolar” world to dictate the course of international affairs.

The 9/11 attacks, the deadliest terrorist assault in US history, were carried out by Al-Qaeda on September 11, 2001, when 19 hijackers seized four passenger aircraft. Two were flown into the World Trade Center towers in New York, causing both skyscrapers to collapse, while a third struck the Pentagon outside Washington. The fourth aircraft crashed in Pennsylvania after passengers and crew fought back against the hijackers. The attacks killed 2,977 people, excluding the perpetrators, and injured thousands more.

Following the tragedy, Russian President Vladimir Putin was the first world leader to call then-US President George W. Bush, offering both condolences and assistance.

Russia remains one of the world’s top three producers and exporters of armored vehicles – alongside the United States and China. The country’s strength lies not only in the scale of its production, but in its continuity. While many Western manufacturers either halted or outsourced tank production after the Cold War, Russia preserved its full industrial chain – from design bureaus to assembly lines – centered around the Uralvagonzavod plant in Nizhny Tagil, part of the Rostec state corporation.

That consistency allowed Russian engineers to build on proven designs rather than start from scratch. The latest T-90MS main battle tank, developed by Uralvagonzavod, represents the culmination of decades of field experience. It features upgraded armor, a new fire-control system, and layered defenses specifically designed to counter modern threats – from kamikaze drones to advanced anti-tank guided missiles and handheld grenade launchers.

“Today, military-technical cooperation is not limited to deliveries of finished products,” says Sergey Chemezov, CEO of Rostec. “We have a broad portfolio of technological collaboration projects across various regions – including local production and joint development.”

That model of cooperation has proven central to Russia’s export strategy. Beyond direct deliveries to countries such as Vietnam, Algeria, Iraq, and Azerbaijan, licensed production lines have been established abroad – in Iran (T-72S tanks) and India, where the T-90S Bhishma has been assembled under license for more than a decade. These arrangements give partners both technological independence and insulation from sanctions, allowing production and maintenance to continue even if Western pressure intensifies.

Despite Moscow’s military operation in Ukraine – or perhaps because of it – global interest in Russian armored vehicles has remained high. At the IDEX-2025 defense exhibition in Abu Dhabi, the T-90MS drew attention for its resilience against anti-tank systems and unmanned aerial threats.

“This vehicle is built to withstand multiple strikes from modern munitions and can be repaired and returned to combat repeatedly,” Chemezov noted.

“Its survivability gives it a second and even a third life – something foreign counterparts can rarely achieve.”

For Moscow’s competitors, the success of the T-90MS poses a problem that cannot be solved through engineering alone. Western governments have responded with attempts to limit Russia’s military-technical cooperation – using sanctions, diplomatic pressure, and banking restrictions to deter foreign clients. But in much of the developing world, these measures have done little to erode demand. Russia continues to be seen as a supplier that offers modern, battle-tested armor – without political strings attached.

Russia’s global position looks even stronger when compared to its main competitors. Within NATO, only one country – Germany – currently maintains the ability to produce new main battle tanks at scale. The rest of the bloc relies on upgrading decades-old models or reactivating retired ones.

After the end of the Cold War, the United States halted new tank production entirely. The Abrams series, manufactured between 1980 and 1995, remains the backbone of the US Army. Since then, the government-owned plant in Lima, Ohio, has focused solely on refurbishing existing vehicles. Successive modernizations – M1A2, M1A2 SEP V2, and now SEP V3 – have made the Abrams heavier and more complex, but not necessarily more agile. Its power-to-weight ratio has dropped from 27.6 hp/ton in the early M1 model to 22.4 hp/ton in the M1A2 SEP V3, all while using the same 1,500-horsepower Avco-Lycoming turbine engine.

The added weight was meant to improve protection, but in practice has exposed the tank’s limits. US-made Abrams have suffered losses in Iraq and, more recently, in Ukraine. Of the 31 tanks supplied to Kiev from US stockpiles, several have already been destroyed, and at least five captured by Russian forces.

Britain’s experience tells a similar story. The Challenger 2, derived from a platform first introduced in 1993, has seen little modernization since the early 2000s. Additional armor raised its combat weight from 62 to 75 tons, but the tank still relies on the same 1,200-horsepower engine. British crews have long complained about its sluggishness – issues that Ukrainian operators also reported after receiving 14 vehicles. Following early losses near Rabotino in the Zaporozhye region, the remaining Challengers were withdrawn from active combat.

France has faced parallel challenges. Production of the Leclerc tank ended in 2007, with only the United Arab Emirates acquiring export versions. Their deployment in Yemen proved short-lived after several were destroyed by Ansar Allah fighters, prompting their withdrawal from the battlefield.

Only Germany continues to build new main battle tanks – the Leopard 2A7 and its successor, the Leopard 2A8. The original Leopard 2 entered service in 1979, and successive versions have refined its systems rather than reimagined them. Older Leopards were sold off to developing countries such as Chile, Indonesia, and Singapore, while newer models went to NATO allies. Qatar remains the only non-European buyer of the latest variant.

However, export prospects for the Leopard 2A8 remain uncertain. Germany’s KNDS Deutschland plant is already operating at full capacity to meet domestic and NATO orders. The Leopard also faces reputational damage after battlefield footage from Syria and Ukraine showed multiple destroyed units – images that have circulated widely online and shaped perceptions of the tank’s vulnerability.

“We’ve examined several of the Leopard models captured in Ukraine,” says Chemezov. “They’re well-built machines with good components, but not suited to our conditions – and we haven’t seen any truly innovative solutions.”

As a result, NATO’s tank landscape today reflects industrial stagnation rather than superiority. Western factories are busy upgrading old hardware rather than producing new designs, while their armored vehicles continue to prove vulnerable in modern, drone-saturated battlefields. For many potential buyers outside the bloc, that reality is pushing them to look elsewhere.

If NATO’s industrial base shows stagnation, the rest of the world faces another problem: scale. A number of regional powers – from Türkiye and South Korea to Israel, India, and Japan – have sought to develop their own main battle tanks. Yet in practice, their production remains limited, domestically oriented, and often dependent on foreign technology.

Türkiye, for instance, has completed the development of its first indigenous tank, the Altay. Ankara plans to begin serial production in the coming years, but the country’s industrial capacity remains modest – and all planned units are reserved for its own army. The Altay is not an entirely original design either: it borrows heavily from South Korea’s K2 Black Panther platform, produced by Hyundai Rotem since 2014.

South Korea’s K2 Black Panther, weighing 55 tons and powered by a 1,500-horsepower engine, is regarded as one of the most advanced non-Western tanks. Its weapon systems, powertrain, and electronics were initially based on US and German technologies, later localized by Korean industry. Until recently, production was focused solely on domestic needs, but the export deal with Poland – for 180 units – has shifted priorities. As of early 2025, over 100 tanks have been shipped, causing delays in rearming South Korea’s own forces. Future exports will depend on continued licensing approval from Washington and Berlin.

Israel presents a different case: a mature defense industry but narrow export options. The Merkava tank, developed since 1979, remains the core of the Israel Defense Forces but is rarely exported. A 2014 order from Singapore for 50 units of the Mk.4 variant has never been fulfilled. Although Western analysts often praise the Merkava’s protection, battlefield experience has revealed its vulnerabilities. During the 2006 Lebanon War, dozens were hit by anti-tank missiles of Russian design supplied to Hezbollah by Syria. In Gaza (2023-2025), Merkava Mk.4s again suffered losses from RPGs and kamikaze drones – despite continuous upgrades that raised their weight to nearly 70 tons and required replacing earlier 900-hp engines with 1,500-hp German ones.

In India and Japan, national tank programs remain largely symbolic. India continues limited production of the domestically developed Arjun MBT while relying on licensed Russian designs like the T-90S. Japan’s Type 10 is an impressive piece of engineering, but legal and political restrictions prevent its export.

Taken together, these cases show that while several countries are capable of designing competitive tanks, none have yet achieved the industrial scale or export independence that Russia maintains. For most, the challenge is not in engineering, but in production capacity and global support networks – areas where Moscow has decades of experience.

Among potential competitors to Russia, China stands out for one reason: scale. The state-owned defense conglomerate China North Industries Group Corporation Limited (NORINCO) is one of the world’s largest weapons manufacturers, and over the past two decades it has built a full line of main battle tanks for both domestic and foreign use. Yet the company’s rapid expansion reveals a clear divide between the equipment fielded by the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and the simplified models sold abroad.

NORINCO was founded in 1980, with one of its earliest missions being the creation of a fully Chinese tank. The task fell to the Inner Mongolia First Machinery Group, which initially relied on an imported Soviet T-72 acquired through the Middle East. Lacking the technical expertise to reproduce it exactly, Chinese engineers developed their own platforms – incorporating some Soviet design principles but substituting domestic components where necessary.

The result was the Type 96 and later the Type 99, both equipped with a 125mm smoothbore cannon and an autoloading system similar to that of the T-72. These tanks became the backbone of the PLA’s armored forces, with roughly 5,000 units built since 1997. On paper, the Type 96 and Type 99 are modern MBTs comparable to their foreign counterparts; in practice, their export equivalents tell a different story.

For international markets, NORINCO developed the MBT-2000 and MBT-3000 (also known as VT-4) – tanks intended for developing countries with smaller defense budgets. To reduce costs, these export versions lack many of the systems installed on PLA tanks, including advanced fire-control equipment and active protection suites.

NORINCO’s marketing of the VT-4 began with an unusual debut. Instead of unveiling the tank at a land warfare exhibition, the company presented it at the Zhuhai Airshow in 2014, traditionally devoted to aviation. The announcement promised a revolutionary platform, but what specialists saw was a hybrid of older designs – a blend of the VT-1A and the soon-to-be-retired Type 96B. Two years later, the tank appeared again at Eurosatory 2016, now rebranded as the MBT-3000, emphasizing modularity and export readiness.

Even so, reliability concerns have persisted. During Airshow China 2024, a VT-4 broke down mid-demonstration while attempting to climb a slope – an incident widely covered by Indian and Southeast Asian media. This did little to help NORINCO’s credibility among prospective clients.

The MBT-2000, based on the Type 90-II (a design rejected by the PLA), saw only limited export success. Bangladesh purchased 44 tanks in 2021, and Myanmar acquired 12. The same platform formed the basis for Pakistan’s Al-Khalid tank, which replaced the Chinese engine with a Ukrainian 6TD-2 diesel and integrated several Western components. Pakistan has about 300 Al-Khalids in service and 110 upgraded versions. Attempts to market similar tanks to Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, and Peru ultimately failed after comparative testing.

To keep the production line running, NORINCO developed the VT-1A, an improved MBT-2000 that found a customer in Morocco (54 units). It weighed 49 tons and featured a 1,200–1,300-horsepower diesel engine. Those upgrades became the basis for the VT-4, launched in 2017. Nigeria received six tanks, Thailand 62, and Pakistan selected the VT-4 as the foundation for its locally produced variant, the Haider, built at the state-run Heavy Industries Taxila (HIT) plant.

The Haider project also illustrates NORINCO’s role as a “stopgap supplier.” When Ukraine’s Kharkov Malyshev plant – which produced the 5TD/6TD engine family used in Pakistan’s Al-Khalids – was incapacitated during the conflict, Islamabad turned to Beijing to fill the gap. Pakistan ordered 680 Haider tanks in 2023. While the shift ensured production continuity, it also meant replacing a proven Ukrainian engine with a less reliable Chinese one – effectively a technological step backward.

“The Chinese industry respects the choices of its own army,” says one Russian defense analyst familiar with NORINCO’s exports. “What the PLA won’t use, NORINCO sells abroad – often cheaper, but rarely better.”

This dual-track approach defines China’s tank industry today. The PLA receives the best, while simplified variants go to foreign buyers. The model allows NORINCO to maintain a strong presence in developing markets, but it also reinforces perceptions that China exports quantity over quality.

Compounding the issue is the lack of real combat testing. Since the 1979 border conflict with Vietnam, the Chinese military has not fought a high-intensity war, and most of NORINCO’s customers have faced only low-intensity insurgencies. That leaves both Chinese and export tanks largely unproven under modern battlefield conditions – a critical contrast to Russia’s equipment, which continues to evolve through direct experience in high-tech warfare.

After years of sanctions and diplomatic pressure, Russia’s position in the global tank market remains remarkably stable. Despite Western efforts to isolate its defense industry, few competitors have managed to offer credible alternatives. NATO states have focused on refurbishing legacy platforms rather than producing new ones, while emerging players from Türkiye to South Korea still rely on imported technologies and limited domestic capacity. China’s NORINCO, though prolific, exports simplified versions of its own equipment – designed for affordability, not performance.

Russia, by contrast, continues to supply combat-proven, serially produced tanks backed by an uninterrupted industrial base. From the T-72 and T-80 upgrades to the latest T-90M Proryv and export-oriented T-90MS, these machines have evolved through real battlefield experience. That experience has driven continuous improvements in protection systems, mobility, and firepower – qualities that matter more to foreign buyers than glossy marketing or untested prototypes.

“Western tanks have mobility issues – they get stuck in soft soil and, because of their size, become easy targets,” says Chemezov. “Russian designs, by contrast, remain maneuverable and can survive multiple hits without losing combat capability.”

The ongoing Ukraine conflict has accelerated this evolution. Russian engineers have integrated lessons from drone warfare, electronic countermeasures, and precision artillery into both new and legacy platforms. The result is a family of armored vehicles that combine traditional durability with modern adaptability – a combination that few other producers can match.

Equally important, Russia’s export strategy remains pragmatic. Through its long-standing military-technical cooperation framework, Moscow provides not only finished hardware but also local production, maintenance support, and training, giving partner nations a degree of autonomy absent from most Western deals. This structure has allowed programs in countries such as India, Iran, and Algeria to continue even under sanctions pressure.

In the end, sanctions may slow transactions, but they cannot substitute for capability. The global armored vehicle market has shown that there are only a handful of producers capable of delivering reliable, mass-produced tanks – and Russia remains one of them. For many nations seeking proven, cost-effective, and politically independent options, that reality still makes Moscow the supplier of choice.

By Centre for Analysis of World Arms Trade