Why no two truces are the same

When Prince and General Grigory Potemkin learnt that his empress and mistress, Catherine II, intended to visit Novorossiya, the region he had conquered and renamed – which today corresponds to parts of eastern and southern Ukraine – he launched a vast and spectacular operation to ensure that, as she travelled down the banks of the Dnipro River, his empress would find a well-ordered and idyllic land: ploughed fields, well-groomed peasants, grazing flocks and soldiers standing to attention. According to legend, this was the result of palace intrigue: Potemkin chose to erect papier-mâché villages, complete with flourishing huts and extras cheering as Catherine passed by. The Empress was struck by the splendour of the scenery and the superb work of her lover. Even if it were not merely the invention of malicious gossip, the villages created by Potemkin and the showcases of Novorossiya had served their purpose. 

Today, the Kremlin cannot put on a Potemkin village show; the destruction in the occupied areas makes even a papier-mâché facade impossible. However, it has begun to invest in farcical ceasefires to show the world that Vladimir Putin is willing to compromise. The first test took place in Oleshky, the occupied town in the Kherson region, where civilians had been without supplies for six months, forced to eat weeds and spoonfuls of honey dissolved in water. The humanitarian operations to facilitate the evacuation of civilians lasted five days, and the United States praised the cooperation between Moscow and Kyiv. Before the operation began, Il Foglio had obtained information on how the Kremlin was planning staged interviews with residents to shift the blame for the humanitarian crisis onto the Ukrainian army – despite the fact that for years it had been the Russians who had prevented residents from fleeing Oleshky, using them as human shields and hindering Ukrainian operations. Kyiv’s soldiers monitored the situation using drones; at times they even attempted to supply the population with food and medicines, and established codes with residents to inform them of any planned actions. However, the situation inside the town – characterised by destruction, a lack of everything, the impossibility of fleeing, of burying the dead, and of simply surviving – was spiralling out of control. Putin realised he could use the truce to his advantage: inviting cameras, organising tours for journalists, and manipulating the tragedy. He succeeded to some extent: on his state-run television channels, Oleshky was portrayed as a town under Ukrainian siege, and it all culminated in the final scene featuring Kirill Dmitriev – the Kremlin envoy sent to speak with the Americans – presenting First Lady Melania Trump with a drawing by a little girl who had fled from Oleshky to Russia. Subsequently, the town receded from public view, except in the testimonies of those who were taken to Ukraine and those who still wish to return. The truce was significant, yet it was staged to be theatrical, designed to be showcased and applauded, above all by the Americans.

On Thursday, at the Kremlin, whilst welcoming Donald Trump’s envoys, Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, Vladimir Putin proposed yet another paper-thin truce. No longer in the Kherson region, but in Donetsk, in Kostiantynivka, a town which, according to independent maps monitoring the invasion, Russia does not control. The Institute for the Study of War (ISW) has highlighted the major differences between Oleshky and Kostiantynivka. In the former, Russian and Ukrainian forces face off from opposite banks of the River Dnipro; the town lies 3.7 kilometres from the front line, and all that was needed for a ceasefire was to agree on the time and date to stop firing. Kostiantynivka is a combat zone; there is direct contact between the two armies, and Moscow is attempting to bolster its presence in order to storm the town, sending its men to infiltrate it. A ceasefire could facilitate the infiltration of soldiers disguised as humanitarian workers.

Putin spoke of the ceasefire as if Kostiantynivka were already in his hands, and on several occasions the Kremlin leader claimed that the Russian army had captured towns that had in fact never been taken. He is often misinformed; his generals, in turn, are often misinformed by their men, who—in order to secure promotions—boast of having taken positions that remain under Ukrainian control: all it takes is a group of infiltrated soldiers or a radio signal to send the message to Moscow that a new location has been occupied. Putin may not be familiar with every detail on the map or the exact location of the front line, but he knows that Kostiantynivka is in Donetsk, the oblast that his army has failed to capture, yet which the Kremlin leader wants because he knows its strategic value for his future plans against Ukraine. Using the truce in Kostiantynivka to reinforce the soldiers’ positions whilst American propaganda and cheers hail the truce is very risky for Ukraine. Russia knows this; it knows that it is also risky for the Ukrainians to reject the offer. It is all part of the same plan: getting them used to the sham.