The Geopolitical Chess Game: Ukraine’s Interactions with the EU and Russia at the Onset of the War in Donbas

ABSTRACT

How are foreign policies developed during times of conflict? This question is often approached by scholars. Here I focus on individual policymakers’ decisions and employ a novel game-theory-inspired analytical framework in foreign policy analysis. The article studies Ukrainian leaders’ decision-making in relations with Russia and the European Union in the first turbulent months of the war in Donbas (April–August 2014). Understanding the beginning of this war holds high relevance in light of the current full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine. This research is based on analysis of 38 interviews with EU, Ukrainian, and Russian policymakers, and analysis of documents.

Introduction

How are foreign policies developed during times of conflict? This article seeks to answer this question by analyzing Ukraine’s relations with the European Union (EU) and Russia during the first five months of the war in Donbas (until Minsk I). While the majority of scholars have concentrated on relations between Russia and the West, and criticized either the West’s assertive policy or Russia’s unlawful actions in Ukraine, I offer a view of the Ukrainian “side of the story.” To explain the strategic decision-making of Ukrainian leaders I employ a framework developed from four elements in the game theory literature—information, trust, payoffs, and resources. The article aims to enrich the literature of area studies and foreign policy analysis in the following aspects: to apply a game-theory-based analytical framework to the war in Ukraine; to focus on individual leaders’ foreign policy decision-making (their perceptions, analysis of the situation, decisions, and interactions with each other); and to explain Ukraine’s relations with its crucial neighbors. Thus, the article discusses the factors that shaped Ukraine’s actions and reactions in its relations with Russia and the EU during the Donbas protests in the spring and open war in the summer of 2014¹ (April 1–September 5). My core findings reveal certain flaws in Ukraine’s foreign policy (leaders’ limited crisis management experience, weak analysis of foreign partners, but also corruption among high officials) that, combined with the EU’s indecisiveness about greater involvement and Russia’s assertiveness in Ukraine, resulted in Ukraine’s failure to achieve a better outcome (e.g. Ukraine’s territorial integrity). This research does not seek to put the responsibility for the war on Ukrainian decision-makers, but provides solid evidence and analysis that explains the evolution of the war and could be helpful in the development of a more professional Ukrainian foreign policy.

Framing the Analysis

The literature on the conflict in Ukraine has left some understudied areas that my research aims to cover. First of all, scholars have mostly concentrated on Russia’s relations with the West (or EU) with respect to Ukraine (Birchfield and Young 2018; Charap and Colton 2017; Ericson and Zeager 2015; Haukkala 2015, 2016; Sakwa 2015b), while few have looked at Ukraine’s relations with them (Averre and Wolczuk 2016; Dragneva-Lewers and Wolczuk 2015; Samokhvalov 2015) and the country’s internal triggers for the war (Katchanovski 2017; Kudelia 2014, 2016; Wilson 2016). Thus, Ukraine’s foreign policy decision-making during the war in Donbas (in particular during its first most turbulent months) is relatively less studied. Second, some scholars have studied issues in the EU’s foreign policy such as internal divisions, the lack of a strategic view, and the limited application of hard mechanisms (Averre 2016; Haukkala 2016, 2018; Sobczyk 2015). Other scholars have argued that the EU’s incursion into Russia’s “sphere of influence” left Russia with no choice but to attack Ukraine (Charap and Colton 2017; Lukyanov 2016; Mearsheimer 2014; Sakwa 2015a). My research offers a rigorous analysis of the perceptions and interactions of individual policymakers whose decisions were heating up or cooling down the conflict at different moments in time; this perspective will provide a more nuanced explanation of the development of the war. The article deals with the following research question: Which factors shaped the response of Ukrainian policymakers in their relations with the EU and Russia during the first months of the war in Donbas (April–August 2014)?

In order to answer my research question, I adopt elements prevalent in the game theory literature and with their help develop a framework for analysis of foreign policy decision-making. There have been attempts to apply game theory to explain West–Russia interactions during the war in Donbas (Ericson and Zeager 2015; Veebel and Markus 2016), but no analysis of Ukraine’s decision-making in this regard. I do not apply game theory as a formal model, but identify four concepts—information, trust, payoffs, and resources—that guide and structure my analysis. First, scholars argue that there is a need for policymakers to have information on other countries’ preferences, and that flawed perceptions about them may lead to conflict (Bennett 1995; Fearon 1995; Putnam 1988). The preferences of countries’ leaders are seen as important elements in this analysis (Kydd 2000, 352; Morrow 1986, 1133; Nye 2005). Second, the role of trust in inter-state relations is underlined (Fearon 1995; Kydd 2000; Thompson 1995). Scholars have spoken of “negative trust,” “power” (Bachmann 2001, 350), or “fear” (Snyder 1971, 84) and thus included force and threats into the concept of trust (Hoffman 2002, 380), as it helps to establish commitment in interstate relations (Larson 1997, 710). I define trust as a belief in certain words, strategies, and signals on the part of interlocutors (both positive and negative), a prediction that they will behave as anticipated. Third, there is analysis of how payoffs (values associated with a possible outcome of a game [Barkley 2016, 120]) of all participants should be considered before making a decision (Axelrod 1985; Bennett 1995; Snyder 1971; Tsebelis 1990). Fourth, resources and willingness to use them are also seen to influence international relations (Clausewitz, Howard, and Paret 1976; Moravcsik 2010; Snyder 1971). Based on these four concepts, I build an analytical framework to explain the decision-making process of Ukrainian policymakers in their relations with Russian and EU interlocutors in April–August 2014. Therefore, the article will elaborate on the following sub-questions: 1. What was the type and quality of information available to Ukrainian policymakers regarding the preferences of the EU and of Russia during the first months of the war in Donbas? 2. To what extent was trust toward their interlocutors in Russia and the EU important in determining the strategy of Ukrainian policymakers? 3. How did Ukrainian policymakers perceive Ukraine’s, Russia’s, and the EU’s payoffs? 4. How aware were Ukrainian leaders of Ukraine’s and others’ resources and readiness to use them in April–August 2014?

Methodological Approach

The main methodological contribution of this research is the design of the interview guide following the introduced game-theory-based analytical framework. With the help of this interview guide, in-depth elite semi-structured interviews were conducted in Kyiv, Brussels, and via Zoom between February 2020 and May 2021. Altogether, I interviewed 38 policymakers: 13 Ukrainian, 16 EU, 8 Russian, and 1 American; among them 14 were officials, 10 were politicians, 9 were analysts, and 5 were journalists in 2014. I have reached people who were either involved in EU/Ukraine/Russia decision-making, or directly witnessed the events under study. Interviewees were stimulated to think within the analytical framework and the timeframe of this research. The interviews were anonymized, if requested by participants, and on the record, where possible. Informed consent (written or verbal) was secured. I contacted people from different backgrounds with diverse views in order to hear different opinions on the studied topic. Interview materials were triangulated through the analysis of official documents (laws, statements of state organs) and media outlets from different countries. The thematic analysis was used to uncover the influence of information, trust, payoffs, and resources on Ukraine’s foreign policy decision-making.

Findings/Discussion

In the following discussion, I employ the game-theory-inspired analytical framework to the case of the first months of the war in Donbas (April–August 2014) and answer my research questions. I first assess what information Ukrainian decision-makers had about everyone’s preferences, then determine their trust in others’ actions. Next, I undertake an analysis of the payoffs structure (Ukraine’s, the EU’s, and Russia’s preferred possible ways of action). Finally, I analyze Ukrainian leaders’ perceptions of what recourses were available to all three sides and their readiness to use them in Ukraine. In the conclusion, I discuss the place of these analytical tools in the foreign policy decision-making of Ukrainian authorities at the onset of the war in Donbas.

Information

First, let us briefly look at the new Ukrainian leadership. The victory of Euromaidan brought a change of the ruling elites in Kyiv. Although many of the new decision-makers had experience in politics, some of their information channels were destroyed and they had to act in a new conflict environment. The Ukrainian Constitution gives the president the main responsibilities regarding the country’s foreign relations (Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine 1996). Between February 23 and June 7, 2014, Oleksandr Turchynov was acting president of Ukraine. On May 25, Ukrainians elected Petro Poroshenko as the new president. Arseniy Yatseniuk was Ukraine’s prime minister from February 2014 to April 2016. His cabinet had two foreign ministers: the acting minister Andrii Deshchytsia (February–June 2014) was followed by Pavlo Klimkin. From March to September, there were three ministers of defense. Andriy Parubiy served as secretary of the National Security and Defense Council of Ukraine in February–August 2014. From February 2014 to June 2015, the Security Service of Ukraine was headed by Valentyn Nalyvaichenko, who had to rebuild the institution almost from zero due to the post-Euromaidan disappearance of the previous employees (Int-8 2020). These changes within the Ukrainian leadership resulted in a deterioration of its decision-making ability due to the transfer of power, the challenging domestic and foreign environment, and the difficulty for ministers to create policies within just 2–3 months of service.

By the end of March 2014, Russia had succeeded in annexing Crimea and started inflaming the situation in Donbas. Although such information was available in March–April, Ukrainian authorities were not able to fully analyze it, which obstructed their ability to respond and gave rise to the claim that they had missed the opportunity to stop the war in Donbas during the first insurgences (Int-1 2020; Int-3 2020; Int-27 2020). For instance, a former governor of Luhansk oblast said that the first Russian coordinators appeared in Donbas in November 2013 and “in March 2014 under the guise of tourists, Russian paratroopers were transported to the territory of Slavyanogorsk” (Int-1 2020). A Luhansk social activist also stressed that the appearance of veterans organizations (e.g. veterans of Soviet–Afghan war), the receipt of weapons by ordinary people and their participation in insurgences, and the occupation of government buildings in March–April 2014—all this was coordinated from Moscow (Int-3 2020). These developments could be easily identified from open sources, and local governors were relaying this information to Kyiv (Int-1 2020). An independent foreign journalist in Ukraine explained that information was available, but that the new politicians were in disarray and could not sit down and analyze the information (Int-15 2020). This highlights the fact that even when they had information about Russia’s involvement in Donbas, decision-makers in Kyiv did not take any substantial actions in the first weeks.

Now, let us study Ukrainian leaders’ consideration of information about Ukraine’s, Russia’s, and the EU’s preferences. Regarding Ukraine’s preferences, my analysis reveals certain discrepancies within the Ukrainian population. My diverse informants (Int-3 2020; Int-19 2020; Int-22 2020; Int-28 2021; Int-29 2021) noted a certain polarization of Ukrainian society after the Euromaidan mass mobilization. The former chief of the Ukrainian Border Guard Service stated that “the way in which the new political class came to power in 2014, it was already a split both within the society and within the politics” (Int-10 2020). Furthermore, social statistics reveal some specifics. In spring 2014, 41 percent of Ukrainians believed that Ukrainian should be the only official language in the country, while 54 percent preferred to have both Ukrainian and Russian (66 percent and 30 percent in the West; 25 percent and 73 percent in the East) (Pew Research Center 2014). Similarly, 43 percent of Ukrainians wanted closer relations with the EU, 18 percent with Russia, and 27 percent with both (68 percent, 5 percent, and 17 percent respectively in the West; 21 percent, 30 percent, and 36 percent in the East) (Pew Research Center 2014). In addition to Euromaidan per se, scholars explain this polarization as the result of a massive Russian disinformation campaign that further accentuated divisions among Ukrainians living in different regions (Hale, Shevel, and Onuch 2018; Janet 2014). This escalated to anti-Euromaidan protests in the East.

From the end of February, anti-Euromaidan and pro-Russian protests took place in the East, and on March 1 protesters occupied governmental buildings in Donbas (Pro-Russian protesters 2014). Interestingly, a Russian journalist claimed that protesters in Ukraine’s West and East were using the same tactics, and that the only difference was their flags: those in western Ukraine were holding the flag of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA),² and those in the East, the flag of Russia (Int-19 2020). Confirmation of this perception can be seen in the fact that in April 2014, rebels in Luhansk told the mission from the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) that they would release the occupied building of the Security Service of Ukraine, if the buildings occupied by Euromaidan activists in Kyiv were also liberated (OSCE 2014). In addition, some scholars have argued that it was not the language or cultural issues that primarily was responsible for some Donbas residents’ loyalty to Russia and fear of EU integration, but rather the strong economic connections of Donbas industries with Russia (Mylovanov, Zhukov, and Gorodnichenko 2018). With this knowledge, the new Ukrainian leaders could have been more prudent in their domestic and foreign policies and tried to more carefully consider the interests of residents of eastern regions. However, as confirmed by EU officials, a former foreign minister of Ukraine, and an advisor to a senior Ukrainian official, the leaders in Kyiv were following an EU integration course (Int-7 2020; Int-32 2021; Int-36 2021; Int-37 2021). Thus, the Ukrainian decision-makers did not manage to mitigate differences of opinion inside the country (which will be further discussed in the section on payoffs).

If we turn to Russia’s preferences concerning Ukraine, Ukrainian policymakers confirmed that they had a clearer idea of these after the annexation of Crimea³ (Int-5 2020; Int-7 2020). Both EU and Ukrainian policymakers stated that Russia’s preferences were to have control over Ukraine’s destiny and to stop Ukraine from further integration with the EU (Int-1 2020; Int-7 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-20 2020; Int-21 2020). Similarly, Novaya Gazeta considered Russia’s goal to be “to preserve the maximum possible influence on Ukraine’s politics” (Shyriaev 2015). The acting foreign minister of Ukraine explained that Russia’s goal (preference) remained the same—to get back control over Ukraine—but that its tactics (payoffs) were changing during the conflict (Int-36 2021). Analysts (Friedman 2014) and EU and Ukrainian respondents (Int-25 2020; Int-36 2021; Int-37 2021) confirmed that the EU-focused course of Ukraine was seen as a threat to Russia’s security. Although Russia’s foreign policy preference in this regard was sensed in Ukraine, most Ukrainian leaders apparently did not look at Putin’s personal preferences.

Both Russian and EU informants stressed that Putin was the sole decision-maker in the Kremlin when dealing with Ukraine (Int-13 2020; Int-17 2020; Int-30 2021) and that his core preference was to stay in power for as long as possible; his actions did not necessarily reflect the interests of the Russian people (Int-13 2020; Int-18 2020; Int-29 2021). A Russian expert on social attitudes explained that, initially, people were against any Russian intervention, but that Putin managed to persuade them by means of stories about the threat to Russian speakers (Int-29 Denis 2021). This is relevant, since not only was it Russia’s overarching preference to control Ukraine’s destiny, but also the sole decision-maker in the Kremlin was able “to play on this” to raise his popularity. These two facts make it even more vital to analyze Russia more deeply. An advisor to a senior Ukrainian official said that there might have been some analysis of Putin’s preferences by Poroshenko, but for any lower political levels such calculations were too complicated and impossible to make given the rapid tempo of decision-making (Int-7 2020). On the other hand, leaks from the Security Service of Ukraine revealed that a Ukrainian politician and businessman, Viktor Medvedchuk, had served as an intermediary between Putin and Poroshenko since May 2014 and was highly involved in all relevant negotiations on Donbas (BIHUS info 2021b). A former Russian MP also named Medvedchuk to be Putin’s most important informant in Ukraine (Int-17 2020), and Putin officially recognised the improvement in his negotiations with separatists thankful to Medvedchuk (President of Russia 2014a). Therefore, although ordinary politicians might have missed Putin’s preferences, Poroshenko apparently had indirect contacts with Putin, which would have facilitated Ukraine’s president’s understanding of Putin in the summer of 2014.

Looking at the EU’s preferences, I have discovered that while Ukrainian leaders viewed the EU’s aims as integration with Ukraine and the preservation of the rule of law, in fact the EU preferred to have stability near its borders and good economic relations with its neighbors (including Russia). My data show that Ukrainians had high hopes for the EU to take action against Russian aggression (Int-3 2020; Int-5 2020; Int-6 2020; Int-27 2020). However, according to EU officials and the EU’s official communications, the Union wanted to cooperate with Ukraine and to preserve some kind of stability in the country (Council of the European Union 2014; Int-2 2020; Int-12 2020; Int-21 2020), but this preference seems to have been far less important to the EU (this is discussed in more detail below) than the Ukrainians understood (Int-15 2020). Even having clear facts about Russia’s support for the insurgencies in Donbas, the EU did not want to fully break off its relations with Russia (Int-13 2020; Int-20 2020), which indicates the importance of cooperation with Russia for the EU. EU policymakers were in a difficult situation: they preferred to preserve their relations with both Ukraine and Russia and also to prevent a conflict near their borders, which led to complicated internal discussions (Int-12 2020; Int-13 2020; Int-20 2020; Int-34 2021; Int-35 2021). The acting minister of foreign affairs of Ukraine explained that the EU’s goal was “to avoid an all-out war on the European continent” (Int-36 2021). Yet even with a certain understanding of the EU’s preference for peace in Europe, Ukrainian policymakers still did not sense that EU–Ukraine integration was not a priority for the Union and that cooperation with Russia was an important EU preference. Limited information makes trust more relevant, and we will now explore the role that trust played in Ukrainian leaders’ decision-making.

Trust

My analysis has revealed interesting characteristics of trust in EU–Ukraine–Russia relations: although Ukrainian leaders had less trust in Russia and the EU after the annexation of Crimea, during the first weeks of unrest in Donbas they still did not trust Russia’s threats and they overrated the EU’s ability to stop the war. Let us start by looking at trust issues within Ukraine that impacted the country’s foreign relations and stability in Donbas. It is worth noting that, although they knew about the different preferences of some Ukrainians, the Ukrainian authorities made only limited efforts to build trust with Donbas residents. On March 18 (which was after the annexation of Crimea on March 16), the prime minister of Ukraine recorded an appeal to Ukrainians, in particular residents of the South and East, in which he promised to not cancel the language law (which allowed the use of Russian as a regional language), to begin decentralization, and to preserve good relations with Russia (Yatseniuk 2014). After the separatists’ takeover of the Donetsk Regional Administration and the declaration of a referendum on joining Russia to be held on April 6–7 (Pro-Russian Group in Donetsk 2014), Ukraine’s acting president, Oleksandr Turchynov, offered the rebels amnesty if they surrendered, decentralization, and certain rights for use of the Russian language (Turchinov 2014). Apart from these declarations, there was no other major attempt to establish dialogue with Donbas residents, and on April 15 the Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO) was introduced (President of Ukraine 2014). Additionally, some mistakes caused a further deterioration of trust. For instance, on June 2, Ukrainian military aircraft launched a rocket into the building of the Luhansk Regional Administration (denied by Ukraine, but confirmed by CNN and OSCE), which killed eight civilians (Int-3 2020; Magnay and Lister 2014; Miller 2014). A Luhansk social activist confirmed that this prompted many Luhansk residents to take up arms, as Russian media in the region, and the new Ukrainian leaders’ talk about “Ukrainization,” made them fearful of genocide (Int-3 2020). In his interview, Putin mentioned that the new authorities could have had a better dialogue with Donbas residents (Seipel 2014). Thus, distrust among Ukrainians not only contributed to Ukraine’s failure to regain Donbas (as I show below), but also gave Russia a certain justification for its actions in Ukraine.

Although Ukraine’s and the EU’s trust in Russia’s good intentions decreased after the Crimea takeover, there was still some uncertainty about Russia’s aggressive actions. Some referred to the mental unpreparedness of Ukrainians for a war with Russia (Int-3 Ihor 2020; Int-7 2020), while others explained that Ukrainian soldiers were only able to shoot at Russians after Russians visibly used their arms against Ukrainians (e.g. shooting from Russian territory) (Int-11 2020). As for the EU’s trust in Russia, it was more nuanced. An EU official confirmed an awareness of a discrepancy between the Russian leadership’s words about Ukraine’s freedom in its foreign policy and its encouragement of separatists in Donbas (Int-32 2021), and a former EU commissioner on enlargement also highlighted the decrease of trust in Russia’s words after the lies about Crimea (Int-21 2020). Another example is that, after discussions with Putin, Angela Merkel described him as living in an alternate reality (Baker 2014). However, an EU correspondent confirmed that EU relations with Russia would continue even without trust—“a policy based on necessity” (Int-20 2020)—and a former president of the European Council acknowledged that “after the annexation of Crimea trust was broken, but there were still channels open” (Int-34 2021). Thus, while Ukraine was learning not to trust Russia, the EU retained its contacts with Putin, even with broken trust.

Turning now to the Russian leadership’s trust in its EU and Ukrainian interlocutors, Russian informants mentioned Russian leaders’ distrust of the post-Euromaidan politicians in Kyiv due to their perception of Euromaidan as a military coup (Int-17 2020; Int-19 2020) and the Ukrainian leaders as “enemies, with whom only a zero-sum game [is possible]” (Int-16 2020). In addition, respondents mentioned that in the view of Russian decision-makers, the new Ukrainian leaders were very dependent on the EU (Int-19 2020; Int-28 2021), while both Ukraine and the EU were dependent on the United States (Int-16 2020; Int-17 2020; Int-18 2020). Other interviewees held that Russia’s strategy involved identifying disagreements within the EU and exacerbating them, for Russia’s benefit (Int-16 2020; Int-20 2020; Int-21 2020). Thus, Putin’s distrust of Ukraine and the EU was influencing relations in this triangle and so should have been part of Ukraine’s foreign policy analysis.

If we look at trust in EU–Ukraine relations, my informants noted that trust on the part of Ukrainian decision-makers in their EU interlocutors diminished after they did not get the requested support both during the annexation of Crimea and the appearance of Russian-backed insurgents in Donbas (Int-7 2020; Int-8 2020; Int-11 2020). On the other hand, an advisor to a senior official in Kyiv explained that due to mistrust toward Ukraine, the EU was sharing information that was not up-to-date (e.g. it provided satellite images that had been taken the previous week) (Int-7 2020). The acting foreign minister of Ukraine also assumed a possibility of EU–Russia negotiations taking place behind Ukraine’s back (Int-36 2021). However, EU respondents remembered a quite high level of trust in their Ukrainian interlocutors at that time (Int-2 2020; Int-21 2020; Int-25 2020; Int-35 2021), and that this increased after Petro Poroshenko became president (Int-14 2020; Int-37 2021). Yet a German MP felt that there was a certain distrust toward Ukraine even among its “friends in Europe,” because Europeans did not know about all of the connections between Ukrainian politicians and oligarchs (e.g. Poroshenko did not keep his promise to sell his enterprises) (Int-38 2021). Therefore, although EU policymakers proclaimed trust in their Ukrainian interlocutors, there were certain suspicions on the part of the Ukrainian authorities toward the EU, and vice versa. Such distrust might have contributed to more negative outcomes. To better understand how such changes in trust and shifts in information altered the scope of strategic decisions, we must consider the expected payoffs.

Payoffs

The first months of the war in Donbas were marked by rapid shifts in payoffs and their limited understanding by Ukrainian leaders. It is important to point out that in March–April, hardly anyone could predict Russia’s subsequent actions. While some in Ukraine and Russia could not believe that the Russian leadership would start a war (Int-8 2020; Int-16 2020; Int-18 2020), others (e.g. the acting foreign minister of Ukraine) remembered anticipating a bigger war (with occupation of the south of Ukraine all the way to Transnistria) (Int-36 2021). Some politicians in European capitals even feared that Russia would attack EU countries as long as “the Kremlin and Putin are in a grabbing mood” (Int-14 2020), while others assumed that “Russia would be satisfied with taking back Crimea” (Int-35 2021). Interestingly, a former deputy of the Russian Duma stated that the war in Donbas started out of “a competition between different groups of influence” on Putin, with Putin supporting the proposed idea about Donbas on the grounds “that it would then be a bargaining chip on Crimea” (Int-17 2020). Putin’s spontaneous decisions were also pointed out by other respondents. One example can be found in the words of an EU analyst: “Putin is a genius when it comes to tactics, ad hoc decision-making in order to punch above his weight” (Int-13 2020). Another example is a Russian analyst’s explanation that “in general these were opportunistic decisions [by Russia], without any grand plan” (Int-16 2020). Thus, possible spontaneity in Putin’s decision-making might have posed an additional challenge for Ukraine’s foreign policy.

My analysis shows that the unpredictability of Putin’s actions puzzled the EU and Ukraine and hindered them from building a workable strategy in spring 2014. Since we already know that Putin’s preference was to stay in power, his bargaining over Russia’s foreign policy could be seen as involvement in “nested games” (domestic and international arenas) aimed at the best combined payoff, as described by George Tsebelis (1990). But at that time Ukrainian decision-makers could hardly foresee Putin’s actions. One example can be found in the words of an advisor to one of the highest decision-makers in Ukraine, that “it was hard not to think about the possibility of everything getting even worse, [we did not see] any further perspectives” (Int-7 2020). As another example, the head of Luhansk region mentioned that “the situation was changing so rapidly, no one knew what Russia planned in Donbas” (Int-1 2020). In the same vein, an EU official called this period “a flammable gas,” pointing out the EU’s concern that “Donbas could potentially spread to other regions” (Int-2 2020). According to an EU analyst, a good-case scenario for that time would be the withdrawal of Russia from Donbas with negotiations on Crimea, and the worst-case scenario would be a total Russian–Ukrainian war with the occupation of Novorossiya⁴ (Int-13 2020). Therefore, Putin’s unpredictable actions in Donbas in spring–summer 2014 and his “nested games” (aiming for the best payoff from international and domestic arenas) made it hard for Ukraine and the EU to estimate the payoff structure.

Now, let us study Russia’s possible payoff—the creation of Novorossiya. My EU, Ukrainian, and Russian interviewees all mentioned that starting from spring and going into summer, Russia was considering the annexation of 7–10 Ukrainian regions of the so-called Novorossiya (Int-2 2020; Int-4 2020; Int-9 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-16 2020; Int-17 2020; Int-18 2020). As suggested by respondents, Russia may have given up on this plan because the failures of separatist protests in Kharkiv and Dnipropetrovsk convinced the Russian leadership of the absence of the required local support (Int-16 2020; Int-17 2020; Int-18 2020; Int-25 2020). This overreliance on large-scale support for the “Russian World” in Ukraine was considered to be a big mistake on the part of Russia by Ukraine’s acting foreign minister (Int-36 2021). Yet, Russia was able to achieve its goal in one region—Donbas. My findings show that, although Ukrainian leaders aimed to restore the country’s territorial integrity and calm the protests in Donbas as had been done in Kharkiv, the situation in Donbas was more complicated (Int-3 2020; Int-7 2020; Int-11 2020). As discussed above, some Donbas residents had other preferences and payoffs. Indeed, in February 2014, 33 percent of residents of Donetsk and 24 percent of those in Luhansk region wanted Ukraine to unite with Russia, while for Ukraine the average was 12 percent (KIIS 2014a). Moreover, in April 2014 around 70 percent of Donbas residents (Luhansk and Donetsk oblasts) did not see Ukraine’s acting president Turchynov and prime minister Yatseniuk as legitimate (KIIS 2014b). Although the pro-Russian residents were not in the majority, their number was enough (considering post-Euromaidan instability and Russia’s interests in Ukraine) for Ukrainian leaders to have acted more attentively. In this situation, Ukrainian authorities could have tried to explain the benefits of EU integration, mitigate deterioration of economic cooperation with Russia, and avoid touching “the language question.” The decision-makers in Kyiv did record video appeals to the residents of Ukraine (mentioned above) and later organized round-table peace talks in Kyiv on May 14, to which, however, separatist leaders were not invited unless they would lay down their arms (Ukraine crisis 2014). Later, on June 20, the newly elected President Poroshenko offered a 15-point peace plan (Poroshenko 2014), which was criticized by the Russian foreign minister for not involving discussions with separatists (Lavrov 2014). In addition, in February–March the new decision-makers discussed overturning the language law, and several analysts and politicians viewed this as a serious misstep that was successfully used by Russian propaganda to scare people in Crimea and Donbas (Int-3 2020; Int-26 2020; Int-27 2020; Janet 2014). Thus, Ukrainian decision-makers sought to regain Ukraine’s territory while overlooking the interests of some residents of Donbas, which contributed to Ukraine’s failure to control Donbas in 2014 (this is further discussed in the next section).

The new president’s approach to Donbas was harsher: it nearly reached the payoff of regaining Ukraine’s territory but involved bloody battles. Elected on May 25, President Poroshenko was recognized by both Western leaders and Putin (President of Russia 2014c). The new president declared an intention to restore the territorial integrity of Ukraine and to end separatism in Donbas (Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine 2014). He stated that the Anti-Terrorist Operation could be finished in a few hours instead of going on for months and launched a counter-attack in June (Poroshenko 2014). A Baltic ambassador in Ukraine viewed this option as too bloody and having little practical benefit, because there was not enough support for Ukraine from locals in Donbas (Int-14 2020). According to a Russian journalist, “Ukraine wanted to subjugate everything by force” (Int-28 2021). Interestingly, a foreign military expert working with the Ukrainian government mentioned considerable EU and US pressure on Ukrainian decision-makers “not to aggravate Russia” by fighting back (Int-30 2021). Nonetheless, a number of Ukrainian, Russian, and EU respondents (politicians, journalists, and military commanders) are in agreement that the Ukrainian military had the chance of regaining control over all of the territory of Donbas at the end of summer 2014 (Int-1 2020; Int-3 2020; Int-4 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-13 2020; Int-19 2020). The governor of Luhansk region stated: “I already saw the end of this war. Luhansk was liberated. Even on the outskirts of Luhansk, our national flag was raised” (Int-1 2020). Consequently, my respondents concluded that the tangible victory of Ukraine in Donbas was prevented by Russia’s use of direct military force (Int-3 2020; Int-4 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-13 2020). The near achievement of Ukraine’s preferred payoff—the liberation of Donbas—inclined Russia to take a more assertive attitude. The arrival of the regular Russian army resulted in the bloody Ilovaisk battle and the defeat of Ukrainian forces. When the alignment of forces changed at the end of August 2014, Russia, separatist leaders, and Ukraine, with the OSCE as facilitator, agreed on peace talks on September 5.

While Ukrainian decision-makers could hardly follow Russia’s payoffs due to their rapid change, they also could not identify those of the EU due to their ambiguity. First of all, the EU’s payoff of an association agreement with Ukraine (based on its preference for EU–Ukraine economic cooperation) was achieved, since the political part of the EU–Ukraine Association Agreement was signed on March 21, 2014, and the economic part on June 27, 2014 (The European Union and Ukraine 2014). Second, since the EU preferred not to have wars in its neighborhood, it aimed to avoid and later to stop the war in Ukraine. An EU correspondent characterized the EU policymakers as being shocked and unprepared to respond to events; they did not want “to be dragged into this war” and preferred to isolate it in eastern Ukraine (Int-20 2020). EU officials working on Ukraine also confirmed that there was no clear EU goal, since some countries were eager to give more help to Ukraine, while others did not want to destroy their business relations with Russia (Int-32 2021; Int-34 2021). A former president of the European Council confirmed that the EU’s goal was to stop the war (Int-34 2021) and a Ukrainian politician highlighted that the EU wanted to do this in the least aggressive way (Int-11 2020). For their part, Ukrainian officials were trying to convince the EU to respond more strongly to Russian aggression (Int-11 2020; Int-12 2020; Int-20 2020). The success of Poroshenko’s diplomacy in impacting EU policymakers was also mentioned by my respondents (Int-8 2020; Int-20 2020). Thus, since the EU’s payoffs were not well defined, Ukrainian leaders could not see them clearly, but tried all the same to influence them to Ukraine’s benefit. However, for the full picture we will look in more detail at resources and their use by the three sides.

Resources

Having considered information, trust, and payoffs, we will now explore how knowledge about Ukraine’s, Russia’s, and the EU’s resources influenced Ukrainian policymakers’ foreign policy decisions. To start with Russia’s resources, in the first months of unrest in Donbas, Ukrainian leaders were aware that Russia possessed incomparably greater resources than Ukraine. As explained by the acting minister of defense of Ukraine, on March 11, 2014, Russia had two hundred twenty thousand soldiers in Crimea and near the eastern border of Ukraine, while Ukraine could manage only six thousand (Tenyukh 2014). Even more intriguing is a point made by an advisor to one of the highest decision-makers in Ukraine: he said that there was such a scarcity of resources in Ukraine that commanders had to move small military groups back and forth near the frontline to create an impression of thousands of soldiers (Int-7 2020). Other respondents highlighted Russia’s readiness and Ukraine’s unpreparedness for this war (Int-1 2020), Russia’s stronger military and energy resources (Int-16 2020; Int-35 2021), and the Ukrainian government’s inability “to match Moscow’s political club, its military abilities, or its economic connections to Europe” (Int-15 2020). A Russian investigative journalist argued that it was the fact that Ukraine’s position (with no army) was much worse that enabled Russia to succeed in the war’s first stages (Int-18 2020). Similarly, Novaya Gazeta wrote that “for the clearance from Donbas of bands of adventurers who had turned the region into a ‘bloodbath,’ one combat-ready unit would have been enough, but the Ukrainian Army did not possess this in April 2014” (Polukhina 2020). Thus, Russia was better equipped for this war, and Ukrainian decision-makers were somewhat aware of this.

Not only did Russia possess more resources, but it was also more ready to apply them, which was crucial. My respondents confirmed that although there was no direct intervention in spring 2014, Russia was supplying military equipment and arms to the rebels (Int-11 2020) and using its soldiers in Ukraine (this was confirmed by the Russian independent investigative agency “Insider” (Int-18 2020) and various leaks (Censor.net 2018; Surkov leaks 2016)). Officially, however, Russia was sending different signals in 2014: it accepted the law on the use of the Russian Army in Ukraine (The Federation Council 2014), and while Putin officially acknowledged the involvement of the Russian military in the Crimean referendum (President of Russia 2014b), he publicly continued to claim that “they are not there” in Donbas (Int-16 2020). By May–June, Ukraine’s understanding of Russia’s readiness to use its resources in Ukraine had improved (Int-11 2020; Int-16 2020). Still the view expressed by a Ukrainian military commander and politician, that people must protect their land and that only cowards count the enemy’s resources (Int-22 2020), could serve as evidence that not all policymakers saw the relevance of analyzing Russia’s resources. Another point was made by a foreign journalist in Ukraine—that Ukrainian politicians could not understand Russia and its capabilities well since Ukraine had previously only had transactional relations with Russia and no experience of “real” foreign relations (Int-15 2020). Meanwhile, Russia was ready to invest its varied resources (military technique, coordinators, soldiers) in rebellions in Donbas; some Ukrainian decision-makers had gained better understanding of this only at the end of spring.

In addition to Russia’s military resources, it also had the advantage in hybrid and informational warfare. An EU analyst explained that this war was a hybrid, “which involves military, economic, technological, cultural, and social media–based instruments” (Int-13 2020), while a Russian analyst underlined Russia’s “technology of information/psychological influence” (Int-16 2020). This hybrid warfare, with informational campaigns preceding the military ones, was also recognized by Ukrainian policymakers (Int-8 2020; Int-27 2020). Moreover, according to a person involved in Ukraine’s decision-making, Russia was using institutional particularities in Ukraine (e.g. the legal inability of special services to conduct operations in the presence of civilians) to achieve its goals (Int-7 2020). However, some scholars (Hutchings and Szostek 2015) and an advisor to a senior official in Ukraine (Int-7 2020) pointed to Ukraine’s fight against Russia’s information warfare, for example by means of the ban on Russian channels in the country in spring 2014. Thus, although Russia succeeded in hybrid warfare, Ukraine was taking certain steps against it.

Looking further into Ukraine’s resources, Ukrainian and EU policymakers pointed out the importance of volunteers, who were not only supplying everything to the Ukrainian army, but were also creating voluntary battalions to protect the country (Int-1 2020; Int-7 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-13 2020; Int-14 2020; Int-33 2021; Int-36 2021). Ukrainian, Russian, and EU policymakers argued that, over time, “the volunteer wave” helped to build the army (Int-1 2020; Int-8 2020; Int-14 2020; Int-16 2020; Int-20 2020). An advisor to one of the highest decision-makers in Ukraine saw the voluntary battalions and the change of psychology in the army as “game changers” (Int-7 2020). The acting foreign minister of Ukraine said that neither Russia nor the EU, nor even the Ukrainian government, expected such a huge contribution from volunteers (Int-36 2021). Thus, the self-organization of Ukrainians became an important resource that unexpectedly contributed to the country’s foreign policy capabilities.

Another important factor with respect to Ukraine’s resources is the role of local elites in the development of the war. For instance, to fight separatism in Kharkiv, Ukraine’s interior minister Arsen Avakov (from the Kharkiv elite) applied a tough approach—an assault on the occupied regional state administration building, blocking of the subway, the introduction of armed patrols, and the use of Ukraine’s special security forces (Butusov 2016). On April 8, separatists were locked up and the situation in Kharkiv calmed down (Butusov 2016). One of the Baltic ambassadors in Kyiv highlighted that Ukraine in those days was almost 100 percent decentralized and that only the support of Kharkiv’s governor for Kyiv helped to keep the region within Ukraine (Int-14 2020). The acting foreign minister of Ukraine also confirmed that the Ukrainian authorities often delegated decision-making to local elites, since those in Kyiv could not react so quickly and effectively (Int-36 2021). Turning now to Donbas, Ukrainian MPs argued that the protests in Donbas were initially supported by the oligarch Renat Akhmetov, who fully controlled Donbas (Int-22 2020; Int-24 2020; Int-27 2020) and aimed in this way to get concessions from Kyiv (Int-22 2020). In addition to this, other respondents underlined Russia’s greater support for rebellions in Donbas than in other regions (Int-22 2020; Int-24 2020; Int-36 2021; Wilson 2016). The acting foreign minister of Ukraine explained that Russia’s military support for Donbas, the difference in the actions of local elites (Akchmetov’s playing with and losing to Russia),⁵ but also the difference in support of the population led to different outcomes in other regions (Int-36 2021). Thus, the direction of local elites, Russia’s role, but also the loyalty of Ukrainians to Kyiv was different in Donbas (as explained above). Such understanding of the whole picture apparently came to Ukrainian authorities only after the events under discussion.

In August 2014, when Ukraine was about to retake the whole territory of Donbas, Russia used its regular army to set back the previous gains of the Ukrainian military forces. Several international organizations (EU, OSCE, and NATO) confirmed the entrance of Russian troops into Ukraine’s territory in August (Gordon 2014). Photographs and interrogations of captured Russian soldiers were also made available by the Security Service of Ukraine (Security Service of Ukraine 2014). This changed the alignment of forces and prevented Ukraine from regaining control over its territory (Int-11 2020; Int-14 2020). Thus, in August 2014, Russia’s use of resources in Ukraine culminated in the entrance of its regular army, which became the core game changer in this period.

Ukrainian policymakers thought they could rely on the EU’s support against Russia’s aggression, for instance because the Euromaidan had won under the EU flag (Int-7 2020; Int-14 2020; Int-15 2020). The EU did introduce sanctions against certain Russian individuals after the annexation of Crimea (The European Council 2020), but it did not help militarily. After a few months, some Ukrainian policymakers developed a better understanding of the EU’s readiness to use its resources in Ukraine, while others stayed angry about the perceived lack of EU support (Int-4 2020; Int-15 2020; Int-16 2020; Int-22 2020). However, an EU correspondent argued that Ukrainian leaders had misunderstood the EU’s role as a foreign policy actor (Int-20 2020). Similarly, an EU official described the difference between Russian hard power (military and political influence) and the EU’s soft power (norms and democracy promotion) (Int-35 2021). While Ukraine was asking for military support, what it received was financial and technical help and consultancy advice about transforming Ukraine’s political and economic structure and fighting corruption (Int-7 2020; Int-11 2020; Int-14 2020; Int-20 2020; Int-37 2021). EU officials explained that “the EU stepped up gradually” (Int-37 2021), and that only in the course of time did it develop its foreign policy mechanisms and understand that “we had to think outside the box” (Int-12 2020). In fact one international effort to reach peace in Ukraine had already taken place in the spring, when the European Union, the United States, Ukraine, and Russia issued the Geneva Statement, in which the parties “agreed on initial concrete steps to de-escalate tensions and restore security for all citizens” (Geneva Statement on Ukraine 2014). However, only after the downing of flight MH17 on July 17, 2014, did the EU adopt hard economic sanctions against Russia (The European Council 2020). Thus, between April and August the EU was gradually involving itself more in Ukraine, and Ukrainian decision-makers, although with certain inaccurate perceptions, were able to understand the EU’s abilities better in summer than they did in spring 2014.

Having discussed the impact of resources on Ukrainian decision-makers’ actions, we will now look at the principal obstacle in Ukraine: corruption. A Baltic diplomat in Ukraine argued that, although Ukrainian decision-makers directed many of the country’s resources to the war, they were still using the opportunity to enrich themselves (Int-14 2020). A Russian politician also explained:

After the volunteers defended the country, they [Ukrainian politicians] largely returned to the state of affairs of the Yanukovych times, when they began to extract what is called administrative rent from their power position in the country, and in every possible way to parasitize on this war. (Int-17 2020).

A former member of the European Parliament also claimed that there could have been a more effective fight against corruption, for example in the army (Int-31 2021), and several EU officials saw corruption as a major issue in Ukraine (Int-32 2021; Int-34 2021; Int-35 2021). Moreover, a commander of a volunteer battalion explained that the Ukrainian leadership had allowed a military column under the command of the Russian KGB officer Igor Girkin to leave Sloviansk in July 2014, and did not give the command to shoot at it, which further fueled the war (Int-22 2020). He also stressed that the senior military leadership ignored the threat of Russian invasion in August 2014 and was in cahoots with Russia over the murder of soldiers who were leaving the Ilovaisk trap (Int-22 2020). This was also confirmed by a Ukrainian MP, who gained access to secret documents concerning the state investigation against former military commanders (Int-24 2020). Another confirmation comes from the leaks of the Security Services of Ukraine, which showed that Poroshenko was receiving financial benefits from Medvedchuk’s business with Russia, for instance from his ownership of the oil pipeline “Samara–Western direction” (BIHUS info 2021a). A German MP also noted that “most Ukrainian politicians had hidden agendas and it was not clear who was playing on which side” (Int-38 2021). This attitude of Ukrainian decision-makers is an important issue, since it led to the deterioration of the country’s resources and its ability to confront Russia.

Conclusion

This article has employed an innovative game-theory-inspired analytical framework for foreign policy analysis to explain Ukraine’s interactions with the EU and Russia during the first months of the war in Donbas (April–August 2014). The game theory literature suggested four elements crucial for taking decisions in international relations: information about others’ preferences, trust in their strategies, payoffs structure, and resources of all participants. My analysis of the collected evidence confirmed that these four elements to varied extents shaped the perceptions and decisions of Ukrainian leaders in their relations with the EU and Russia. Let us summarize the role of each of these elements.

Although the annexation of Crimea helped politicians in the EU and Ukraine to sense that Russia “is playing a big game,” many of them could not foresee war in Donbas in March–April 2014. Although the information about Russia’s activity in Donbas and the dissatisfaction of some Donbas residents with Kyiv’s new policies was reaching the decision-makers in the capital, they did not make use of this information. Ukrainian decision-makers could understand Russia’s big goal to have its grip over Ukraine, but most of them seem to have overlooked an analysis of Putin’s preference to stay in power and the role this played in the country’s policy toward Ukraine. By the summer, however, Poroshenko had a better understanding of Putin due to their indirect contacts. In turn, the EU’s preferences were perceived as integration with Ukraine and the preservation of the rule of law, while what the EU also preferred was to avoid a war near its borders and maintain economic cooperation with its neighbors. Overall, it can be said that certain specificities of Russia’s decision-making and the EU’s preferences were not fully grasped by Ukrainian decision-makers. Concentration on Ukraine’s own preferences (EU integration and Ukraine’s territorial integrity) caused its leaders to turn a blind eye to the preferences of other actors (both domestic and foreign ones). Thus, Ukrainian foreign policy actors could not realistically estimate achievement of the country’s preferences in the geopolitical environment of spring–summer 2014.

The analysis of the role of trust in Ukraine’s relations with the EU and Russia showed further peculiarities. First, the post-Euromaidan situation would require healing of trust between Kyiv and Donbas (where residents both had some different interests, such as Russian language rights, and were being exposed to Russian propaganda), which was missed by Ukrainian authorities and helped Russia to succeed there. Second, mistrust in the credibility of Russia’s threats in March–April meant that there was no fast and well-thought-out reaction to pro-Russian protests in Donbas. Third, closer to summer, Ukrainian decision-makers better understood that the EU’s words of support did not turn into significant actions, while Russia’s threats to protect Russian-speakers beyond Russia’s borders did turn into actions—not only in Crimea, but also in Donbas. Thus, distrust in Russia’s threats delayed Ukraine’s response in Donbas, but in summer Ukraine’s trust in the EU’s and Russia’s actions became more realistic. Ukraine started regaining Donbas without placing too many hopes on the EU.

Looking at Ukrainian decision-makers’ analysis of the payoffs structure, I have found that the rapid change of Russia’s payoffs and the ambiguity of the EU’s payoffs hindered clear understanding of them in Kyiv. While in March–April Russia’s payoffs on Donbas were not grasped by Ukrainians, Russia’s further goal to build Novorossiya was now understood. The EU apparently did not have a clear aim regarding Ukraine, but wanted to stop the war and to sign the association agreement (which was achieved by July). Ukrainian authorities failed to address the interests of some of the Ukrainian citizens in Donbas (e.g. concerning EU integration and the issue of the Russian language), which helped Russia to turn these people into pro-Russian protesters. After being elected on May 25, President Poroshenko slightly improved the country’s foreign policy and started a counter-offensive in Donbas with the aim of restoring territorial integrity. The more assertive approach in Donbas resulted in many deaths, but could have succeeded (according to my respondents), had Russia not entered Ukraine with its regular army in August. One can say that in an analysis of the payoffs, Ukrainian decision-makers concentrated too much on their preferred outcome (to get closer to the EU and to restore the country’s territorial integrity), did not pay enough attention to Russia’s payoff to destabilize Ukraine through Donbas, the EU’s payoff to stop the war (in particular they did not realize that this was not a priority for the EU), and certain sensitivity of some people in Donbas to Russia. This shortsightedness could be one of the factors contributing to the fact that Ukraine ended up with a worse outcome by the end of summer—an uncontrolled Donbas.

In their analysis of resources in foreign relations, Ukrainian decision-makers were aware of Russia’s greater resources (but not of the extent it was ready to use them); they could not wholly grasp the EU’s capabilities or the role of local elites and residents in Donbas. My data showed that Russia was ready to continually invest more resources into the war in Donbas, and the Ukrainian authorities were mostly able to analyze these changes, but did not predict the arrival of Russia’s regular army in August. Ukraine’s understanding of the EU’s readiness to apply its resources was still based on hopes of how the EU “should” react—“to save Ukraine.” Both EU and Ukrainian interviewees assumed this could be explained by Ukrainian policymakers’ poor awareness of the EU’s abilities as a foreign policy actor. The EU was reacting slowly, and hard economic sanctions against Russia were introduced only after the downing of MH17 in July. Under the new president, Ukraine was in a better position to fight on both the diplomatic and military fronts. Thanks to the substantial support of volunteers, Ukraine did manage to develop its army during wartime. However, the liberation of Donbas in summer caused a huge death toll, which could be partly explained by the local population’s (and its elites’) alienation from Kyiv and the failure of dialogue; another reason was Russia’s substantial support for anti-Ukrainian protests in Donbas. Lastly, even with the vast mobilization of Ukraine’s resources for this war, Ukrainian politicians could still extract administrative rent through corruption, and this, too, helped Russia to achieve its aims in Ukraine.

It can be concluded that a number of factors (including Russia’s assertiveness and the EU’s inactivity) acted against Ukraine during the war in Donbas, but certain drawbacks of Ukrainian leaders’ decision-making (weak crisis management experience, limited analysis of foreign interlocutors, and corruption) had also contributed to worse outcomes for Ukraine (lost territories and an ongoing war). In attempting to achieve the best possible scenario, each country needs to carefully assess the environment and other actors, since in our interconnected world one cannot succeed without taking into account others’ actions. Thus, my proposed analytical framework for foreign policy analysis can be further employed to explain relations between countries in other regions, and the data and analysis of this research may be useful for the creation of more successful Ukraine’s foreign policy.

List Of Interviews

Int-1. Verygina, Iryna. 2020. “Governor of Luhansk region in May 2014–September 2014, Kyiv, 18. 02.2020.”

Int-2. Unnamed. 2020. “EU Official, Kyiv, 18. 02.2020.”

Int-3. Chudovskiy, Ihor. 2020. “Lawyer and civil activist from Luhansk, Kyiv, 27. 02.2020.”

Int-4. Ogrysko, Volodymyr. 2020. “Minister of Foreign Affairs of Ukraine in 2007–2009, Director of Centre for Russian Studies, Kyiv, 28. 02.2020.”

Int-5. Chubarov, Refat. 2020. “Chairman of the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar People from 2013, former MP and leader of Crimean Tatars in the world, Kyiv, 02. 03.2020.”

Int-7. Unnamed. 2020. “Advisor to one of the highest decision-makers in Ukraine in 2014–2019, Kyiv, 03. 03.2020.”

Int-8. Burakovsky, Igor. 2020. “Head of Board, Institute for Economic Research and Policy Consulting, 05.03.2020, Kyiv.”

Int-9. Shulipa, Yuriy. 2020. “Director of the Institute of Russian Aggression Research, Russian Social Activist, Kyiv, 05. 03.2020.”

Int-10. Lytvyn, Mykola. 2020. “Chief of the State Border Guard Service of Ukraine since 2003 to 2014, Kyiv, 06. 03.2020.”

Int-11. Teteruk, Andrii. 2020. “Commander of the Myrotvorets volunteer battalion, Member of Ukrainian Parliament in 2014–2019, 06.03.2020, Kyiv.”

Int-12. Unnamed. 2020. “EU Official, Brussels, 10. 03.2020.”

Int-13. Freudenstein, Roland. 2020. “Policy Director, Martens Centre, Brussels, 12. 03.2020.”

Int-14. Unnamed. 2020. “Ambassador of One of the Baltic States to Ukraine in 2012–2016, Skype, 20. 03.2020.”

Int-15. Waller, Nicholas. 2020. “Chief Redactor of New Europe, Independent Foreign Journalist in Ukraine, 01.04.2020, Skype.”

Int-16. Kozlovsky, Oleg. 2020. “Researcher at Amnesty International Eastern Europe & Central Asia in Moscow, Social Activist, 01.05.2020, Zoom.”

Int-17. Ponomarev, Ilya. 2020. “Russian politician and businessman, former member of the State Duma of Russia, 05.05.2020, Zoom.”

Int-18. Dobrokhotov, Roman. 2020. “Moscow-Based Journalist and Civil Activist, Editor-in-Chief of Investigative Online Newspaper the Insider, 08.05.2020, Zoom.”

Int-19. Unnamed. 2020. “Official Russian journalist, Zoom, 27. 05.2020.”

Int-20. Jozwiak, Rikard. 2020. “Brussels Correspondent for Radio Free Europe, 18.08.2020, Zoom.”

Int-21. Füle, Štefan. 2020. “The European Commissioner for Enlargement and European Neighbourhood Policy in 2010–2014, Zoom, 10. 09.2020.”

Int-22. Semenchenko, Semen. 2020. “Founder of Donbass voluntary battalion, MP in 2014–2019, Zoom, 29. 09.2020.”

Int-23. Ušackas, Vygaudas. 2020. ‘Minister of Foreign Affairs of Lithuania in 2008–2010, the European Union’s Ambassador to Russia in 2013–2017, Zoom, 2 October 2020’.

Int-24. Soboliev, Yehor. 2020. “Journalist, MP in 2014–2019, Zoom, 16. 10.2020.”

Int-25. Kowal, Paweł. 2020. “Polish Politician, Former Member of European Parliament (Head of EU Delegation to Ukraine), Current MP, 02.11.2020, Zoom.”

Int-26. Gretskiy, Igor. 2020. ‘Russian analyst and scholar, Associate Professor of the Department of International Relations in the Post-Soviet Space at St. Petersburg State University, 16 December 2020, Zoom.’

Int-27. Lubinets, Dmytro. 2020. “Dmytro Lubinets, Ukrainian MP since 2014, 29.12.2020, Zoom.”

Int-28. Kolerov, Modest. 2021. “Chief redactor of Russian information agencies Rux and Regnum, 27.01.2021, Zoom.”

Int-29. Volkov, Denis. 2021. “Deputy Director at the Levada Center in Moscow, 05.02.2021, Zoom.”

Int-30. Grant, Glen. 2021. “British Military Expert, National Security Expert at the Ukrainian Institute for Future, 18.02.2021, Zoom.”

Int-31. Unnamed. 2021. “MEP in 2004–2019, Member of the Greens–European Free Alliance Group in the European Parliament, 26.02.2021, Zoom.”

Int-32. Unnamed. 2021. “EU Official from the Support Group for Ukraine at the European Commission, 18.03.2021, Zoom.”

Int-33. Unnamed. 2021. “Senior EU Official at the European Commission, 26.03.2021, Zoom.”

Int-34. Van Rompuy, Herman. 2021. “Former Prime Minister of Belgium, President of the European Council in 2009 – 2014, 19.04.2021, Zoom.”

Int-35. Unnamed. 2021. “EU Official at the European Commission, 23.04.2021, Zoom.”

Int-36. Deshchytsia, Andrii. 2021. “Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs of Ukraine in February–June 2014, Ukraine’s Ambassador to Poland since 2014, 13.05.2021, Zoom.”

Int-37. Unnamed. 2021. “Senior EU Official, Involved in EU–Ukraine–Russia Economic Relations in 2014–2015, 17.05.2021, Zoom.”

Int-38. Unnamed. 2021. “Member of the German Parliament in 1994–2017, 02.06.2021, Zoom.”

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

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Notes

1. Scholars distinguish the increase of violence in Donbas after the presidential elections on May 25 (Alexseev 2016; Marples 2016). Thus, events in April–May could be seen as “insurgencies” and Ukraine’s offensive in June and further battles in the summer as “open warfare.” I recognize the existence of Donbas locals who rebelled against Kyiv, but do not call the events “a civil war” due to the decisive role of Russia (curators, militants, weapons), which has been confirmed by the Glazyev tapes and Surkov leaks (Censor.net 2018; Surkov leaks 2016) among other sources. I use the term “war in Donbas” and refer to Donbas residents who rebelled against Kyiv as “rebels,” “insurgents,” and “separatists / Russia-backed separatists.” Ukrainian authorities also referred to them as “separatists” (Turchinov 2014).

2. The UPA (Ukrainian Insurgent Army) was a Ukrainian paramilitary formation that fought against both Nazi and Soviet forces in western Ukraine during the Second World War (Ukrainian Insurgent Army 1993).

3. The annexation of Crimea came as a shock to most EU and Ukrainian policymakers, although many of them now recognize that there were clear signals from Russia (e.g. Putin’s words to George W. Bush that if Ukraine was to join NATO, it would do so without Crimea and Donbas), as well as research and intelligence reports that altogether were not trusted due to the belief in partnership treaties and economic cooperation with Russia (Int-5 2020; Int-8 2020; Int-21 2020; Int-23 2020; Int-31 2021; Int-35 2021).

4. Novorossiya was a region in the Russian Empire, which included the South and East of present-day Ukraine (Kharkiv, Luhansk, Donetsk, Kherson, Zaporizhzhya, Dnipro, Mykolaiv, and Odesa regions plus Crimea).

5. Akhmetov allegedly wanted to agree with Russia that he would control Donbas, but remain loyal to Russia, but in the end Russia preferred to control the territory without him (Int-36 2021).