Russia’s attack on a Ukrainian nuclear plant is a crime. It is also a mistake

In his daily online philippics, Volodymyr Zelensky has one theme on which he plays endless variations: Russia’s war against Ukraine is only the beginning of a war against Western civilisation. If anybody in the West were still in any doubt that the Ukrainian President is not exaggerating, the assault by Russian forces on the nuclear power plant at Zaporizhzhya ought to disabuse them.

This, after all, is Europe’s largest nuclear power complex. According to reports backed up by CCTV and other footage, the Russian attacks deliberately bombarded the reactors, causing a huge blaze. When Ukrainian firefighters tried to quench the flames, the Russians fired on them too. They eventually allowed the emergency services through, but only after the Ukrainians had issued a public warning that a major explosion at the facility could create a toxic radioactive cloud ten times the size of the Chernobyl disaster in 1984. The Russian Army deliberately and recklessly targeted a nuclear plant capable of poisoning tens of millions, including themselves.

Bombarding nuclear reactors, thereby endangering the entire surrounding population, may or may not be a specific offence under international law, but it is hard to imagine a more odious example of a crime against humanity. Not only is such an act of barbarism utterly indiscriminate, with particularly damaging effects on children, including the unborn, but its potentially unlimited impact on an entire nation almost certainly counts as genocide.

The chain of command in the invading Russian forces leads directly to the Kremlin. Given its political implications, the order to shell the Zaporizhzhya plant must have come from the top. In other words, Vladimir Putin knowingly risked the lives and health of millions, including his fellow Russians, as part of his terror campaign to crush Ukrainian resistance.

It is unthinkable that a Russian commander would carry out such an operation on his own initiative: indeed the lack of success of the invasion so far is largely attributable to the paralysis of Putin’s subordinates, who are hesitant about taking decisions for fear of retribution in the event of failure. Wise military leaders trust their officers in battle and delegate as much as possible to them; only paranoid dictators who suspect everyone around them try to control every tactical detail.

Putin is now clearly in the latter category, unable to let go of command yet cut off from the action in his bunker. Constantly berating his generals and ministers for the failure of the strategy for which he bears sole responsibility must be sapping morale and feeding discontent throughout his armed forces. And a diktat such as this one, the criminality and insanity of which must be obvious to even the most callous of his commanders, will raise doubts in their minds about how much longer it is in their interests to obey presidential orders.

Another factor has now come into play. The death on Tuesday of Major General Andrei Sukhovetsky, probably at the hands of a Ukrainian sniper, will not only have been a serious blow to the troops under his command, but may also have given others in the Russian military hierarchy pause. The death in action of such a senior and highly decorated veteran of the Chechen, Georgian and Syrian campaigns brings home to the top brass in Moscow that they, too, are paying a price for Putin’s folly.

The calculus of self-interest for those securocrats balancing the risks of a coup d’état against the dangers of dying in the service of a deranged despot may now be at the tipping point. The perils of a putsch, with the certainty that failure would mean execution, probably still outweigh the fear of ending up on trial for war crimes in The Hague. But the death of General Sukhovetsky shows that obedience is no guarantee of survival. It is also, incidentally, a salutary reminder that the British Army training programme in Ukraine since 2015 has not been in vain.

To summarise: Russia’s attack on Europe’s biggest nuclear power plant, almost certainly on Putin’s orders, is not only a crime. It is also a mistake. Russian officers now know that they are engaged in an enterprise that is not only criminal but genocidal and possibly suicidal, too. How long it will take them to summon up the courage to disobey such orders, nobody knows. But  there is a new, maniacal quality to the behaviour of the “old man in the bunker”. It was noticeable in his barely veiled threat to unleash a nuclear strike in the event of any attempt by NATO to halt his invasion.

Now the assault on Zaporizhzhya, an unprecedented monstrosity, proves that this was no empty threat. Après moi, le déluge may be a motto that appeals to autocrats, but it is unlikely to appeal to anybody else in his entourage. Not many are loyal enough to relish the idea of perishing in a nuclear Götterdämmerung. Before his “special operation” the fall of Putin was a remote prospect. Since last week, it has come closer. The next atrocity may be his last.

A Message from TheArticle

We are the only publication that’s committed to covering every angle. We have an important contribution to make, one that’s needed now more than ever, and we need your help to continue publishing throughout the pandemic. So please, make a donation.