Military history is full of examples of political and military leaders initiating costly international conflicts, only for those campaigns to fall short of their strategic objectives. Since the end of the Second World War, more than half of the international crises initiated by states have failed to achieve their intended goals. A consistent underlying factor is the misjudgment of an opponent’s strength or resilience in the face of military pressure. The ongoing Russian–Ukrainian war offers a pertinent case study. In 2022, the Russian military launched a large-scale assault against Ukraine, underestimating the ability and determination of Ukrainian forces to resist. Similarly, in mid-2023, the United States appeared overly optimistic in assessing Ukraine’s capacity to regain substantial territory through a counteroffensive. These dual miscalculations prompt a critical question: why do states so frequently get it wrong when estimating outcomes in war?
This article begins with a central hypothesis: miscalculation is not exclusive to one party in a conflict. Both sides can suffer from flawed assumptions. However, the decisive factor in determining victory often lies in which side is quicker to recognise its errors and adopt corrective strategies informed by unfolding realities. In the context of the Russian–Ukrainian war, both Moscow and Kyiv made strategic misjudgements. Yet, the outcome may ultimately hinge on which actor adapts more effectively.
The Roots of Strategic Miscalculation
A range of political and military misperceptions contribute to flawed decision-making in warfare. Drawing on literature in the field of international relations and conflict analysis, several key drivers of miscalculation emerge:
1. Misreading Intentions and Capabilities: From Thucydides to Hans Morgenthau, scholars have developed rationalist models of conflict, based on the assumption that state actors make decisions through cost-benefit analysis in pursuit of national interests. However, historical precedent suggests that strategic misjudgements often arise from poor assessments of an adversary’s intentions or capabilities.
Military analysts tend to focus on quantifiable aspects of potential adversaries’ power, such as troop numbers and weaponry, while diplomats and intelligence officers are more attuned to intangible factors like motivations and morale. A dangerous imbalance emerges when one’s own capabilities are overstated, and the opponent’s potential is dismissed or underestimated. This can lead to overconfidence and rash decisions to go to war.
Quantifiable factors like military strength, economic capacity, and demographics are easier to assess than qualitative elements like combat morale, leadership, intelligence networks, and military doctrine. Misunderstanding an adversary’s doctrine—how they fight wars—is a particularly critical blind spot. Flawed intelligence can further distort perception, especially when it offers incomplete or misleading estimates of hidden capabilities.
Additionally, latent capabilities, including a state’s potential to sustain prolonged conflict, are difficult to gauge. Likewise, it is inherently difficult to accurately predict the development of new technologies, their application in warfare, and administrative capabilities, which often determine the efficiency of converting resources into effective military power, as well as political considerations such as the will and ability to transform national resources into support for the military sector.
Historical examples—such as Germany’s failure to appreciate the industrial might of the United States in both World Wars—illustrate the consequences of such miscalculations.
The cohesion of a population under wartime conditions is another unpredictable variable. Adversaries may assume that their opponent’s population is unsupportive of their government or war effort. A case in point is the widespread belief in Western capitals that the Russian public opposes the Kremlin’s war in Ukraine—despite polling that consistently showed support hovering between 70% and 75% in the first two years of the war.
2. The Fallacy of Centralised Decision-Making: Another source of misjudgment is the presumption that decision-making within an adversary state is fully centralised, especially during crises. A revealing historical example comes from the Cuban Missile Crisis. On 27 October 1962, a U.S. U-2 reconnaissance aircraft was shot down over Cuba by a Soviet missile. The U.S. assumed the order came directly from Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev. Then–Secretary of Defence Robert McNamara famously remarked, “I don’t know who gave that order.” However, declassified documents later revealed that the order was not from Moscow, but rather issued independently by Cuban forces under President Fidel Castro. Despite clear Soviet instructions to avoid escalation without direct authorisation, a local missile unit commander ordered the launch in solidarity with Cuban allies—an act that nearly provoked a full-scale war.
3. Misinterpreting Adversary Intent: Misjudging an opponent’s statements or actions is a frequent error, particularly when analysts assume worst-case scenarios or attribute hostile intentions to any ambiguous behaviour. This often stems from a tendency to assess intentions based on available capabilities, rather than actual strategic objectives, and from a broader pattern of “enemy demonisation.”
4. Misreading Third-Party Dynamics: Conflicts are rarely contained to two actors. Misperceptions about the intentions or capabilities of third parties—be they allies or potential adversaries—can alter the strategic calculus of war. States often overestimate the support they will receive or underestimate the consequences of foreign intervention on the battlefield. These third-party misjudgements can distort cost and benefit assessments, leading to premature or ill-conceived decisions to initiate conflict.
Strategic Deception: Denial and Deceit in Conflict
Denial and deception are two interlinked instruments of strategic misdirection. While denial refers to the act of concealing critical information from an adversary, deception involves deliberately feeding false or misleading narratives to shape the enemy’s perceptions. Together, these tactics create a manipulated version of reality—an alternative story that misleads decision-makers and distorts threat assessments.
The success of such strategies can lead to grave miscalculations. One of the most striking examples was the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. Unbeknownst to U.S. intelligence, the Soviet Union had deployed over 100 tactical nuclear weapons in Cuba. These were authorised for use by Soviet officers should an American invasion occur. U.S. President John F. Kennedy and his advisers, operating on flawed intelligence, believed the threat was limited to medium-range ballistic missiles. Had the United States launched its threatened invasion, the result might have been catastrophic nuclear retaliation.
The most significant error in this case was that the majority of the president’s military and civilian advisors—who were urging an attack on Cuba—mistakenly believed that the Soviets would not respond militarily anywhere in the world. They also assumed, based on assessments by the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, that there were no operationally ready nuclear warheads on the island—an assumption that ultimately proved false.
This example, particularly in the context of complex international crises, underscores the importance of decision-makers accounting for the possibility of missing critical information that could fundamentally alter the course of action.
Although in this case, the denial did not result in catastrophic consequences—such as a miscalculation leading to nuclear war—in other situations, it could lead to a country becoming entangled in conflict or being less prepared for war due to deception and denial tactics employed by its adversaries.
Another illustrative case of successful deception was Egypt’s preparation for the October 1973 war. For years, Israel had operated under a strategic assumption known as “the Concept”—the belief that Egypt lacked both the military capability and political will to launch a full-scale war. This belief stemmed from Israel’s technological superiority and the Soviet Union’s reluctance to arm Egypt with advanced weaponry during the détente period.
However, Egypt employed a calculated campaign of denial and deception. It conducted annual military exercises near the Suez Canal, which Israel came to view as routine. In 1973, this assumption proved fatal. Egypt launched a surprise offensive that destroyed the Bar Lev Line and dealt Israel a severe blow in the opening stages of the war.
Key to the success was Egypt’s ability to mislead Israeli intelligence. Egyptian forces repeatedly crossed into forward positions during the day, only to withdraw at night—creating the illusion of routine manoeuvres. Moreover, the deployment of two previously unknown surface-to-air missile systems (SAM-6 and SAM-7) caught Israeli air forces unprepared, further underscoring the power of strategic concealment and deception in warfare.
The Role of National Security Institutions
National security institutions refer to bodies involved in foreign policy and defence, such as the Ministries of Foreign Affairs and Defence, as well as intelligence agencies. These entities play a critical role in shaping foreign policy decisions—particularly those related to war and peace. While the ultimate authority for such decisions rests with the political leadership—whether the head of state or the prime minister—national security institutions influence these decisions through the information they provide. International crises rarely erupt spontaneously; they are often the result of calculated decisions by political leaders who weigh costs against potential benefits. On one hand, crises can offer opportunities for states to advance strategic objectives or pressure adversaries into making concessions. On the other hand, they carry the risk of escalating into broader conflicts with devastating humanitarian and economic consequences. Leaders typically avoid initiating crises that are unlikely to yield tangible gains, as the costs often outweigh the benefits.
Some studies suggest that variations in institutional design can lead decision-makers to initiate crises based on flawed assumptions about the status quo. Several bureaucratic configurations of national security institutions exist, and some may increase the risk of miscalculation.
One such configuration is “integrated institutions,” which enhance a state’s crisis management capabilities in two main ways. First, they provide leaders with timely and relevant information—such as estimates of success, anticipated costs, and alternative strategies. Second, integrated institutions facilitate horizontal information-sharing among national security agencies. This allows bureaucrats to gauge the relative importance of their information compared to that provided by other institutions and to monitor the accuracy of information being conveyed to leaders. Together, these factors improve the quality and quantity of intelligence reaching top decision-makers. Leaders at the helm of integrated systems are thus better positioned to identify crises that could serve national objectives and to avoid costly or futile confrontations.
In contrast, two alternative institutional configurations may heighten the risk of miscalculation in international crises:
1. Isolated institutions inhibit horizontal information flow among national security agencies. Although leaders may still receive a high volume of information, it tends to be of lower quality, as bureaucrats lack access to or cannot verify each other’s reports. This creates fertile ground for misjudgment, where leaders may initiate crises based on incomplete or inaccurate intelligence.
2. Fragmented institutions are those where agencies are structurally excluded from influencing the decision-making process through information sharing. This discourages bureaucrats from investing in intelligence-gathering or developing institutional expertise. Additionally, such institutions may be unable—or unwilling—to speak truth to power, diminishing their role in decisions of war and peace. In these systems, the burden of decision-making falls entirely on the political leader, increasing the risk of hasty or ill-informed choices.
Leaders ultimately shape the role of national security bureaucracies in decision-making and may deliberately constrain their operations. Some may perceive integrated institutions as obstacles to their preferred policy paths and seek to weaken them—either by preventing inter-agency cooperation or by excluding them from the decision-making process altogether.
Importantly, any of these institutional designs—integrated, isolated, or fragmented—can exist in both democratic and authoritarian regimes. For example, U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson adopted a fragmented model during the 1960s, preventing national security agencies from effectively communicating intelligence about military escalation in Vietnam. Fearing leaks to the press, Johnson sidelined the National Security Council and established an alternative, insular decision-making forum known as the “Tuesday Lunch Group.” He excluded dissenting voices and discouraged revisiting key strategic issues. As a result, the intelligence presented to him was incomplete and skewed to align with his pre-existing beliefs. While this perspective offers important theoretical insights, it remains difficult to verify except through long-term archival research—specifically, once states declassify internal documents revealing deliberations between heads of state and national security agencies. In the absence of such data, claims about adversarial leaders adopting flawed institutional models often remain speculative. For instance, early Western media narratives during the Russia-Ukraine war painted Russian President Vladimir Putin as monopolising military decision-making and suppressing dissenting views. These accounts suggested that his refusal to entertain independent military advice led to Russia’s strategic blunders. Such claims gained traction especially in early 2023, following Ukraine’s successful counteroffensive in late 2022. However, this narrative struggled to explain subsequent Russian victories—such as the mid-2023 offensive and the Battle of Kursk in early 2025.
Strategic Miscalculations in the Russian–Ukrainian War
The ongoing Russian–Ukrainian war offers a prominent modern example of strategic misjudgment on the part of all major players—Russia, Ukraine, and Ukraine’s Western allies. To understand the nature and implications of these miscalculations, it is useful to divide the war into four distinct phases:
Phase I: Initial Offensive (February 2022 – September 2022)
Russia made rapid territorial gains in the early months of the invasion, but its failure to capture Kyiv revealed the first major miscalculation: an underestimation of Ukrainian resistance. Moscow appeared to assume that Ukraine would collapse swiftly under the weight of Russian military power. However, Ukrainian forces employed asymmetric warfare and urban defence tactics effectively, bolstered by significant Western support, notably advanced weapon systems like HIMARS and intelligence-sharing networks. Russia’s strategic error lay in misjudging both the capacity and resolve of Ukraine’s armed forces and the extent of NATO’s commitment to Kyiv. While Western media frequently depicted Russia’s objective as a quick overthrow of the Ukrainian government, the Kremlin’s true strategic goals remained ambiguous until after Ukraine’s September counteroffensive. Only then did Moscow declare its intent to annexe four Ukrainian regions—Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson.
On the Ukrainian side, President Volodymyr Zelensky overestimated Western readiness to provide limitless support, believing Ukraine’s role as a frontline state in a broader geopolitical contest against Russia would secure unending economic and military aid. This assumption neglected to account for potential shifts in political will among NATO countries.
Phase II: Ukrainian Counteroffensive (September 2022 – October 2023)
Ukraine’s September 2022 counteroffensive saw major gains, particularly in the Kharkiv region and parts of Luhansk. However, this success fostered overconfidence. When a second counteroffensive was launched in mid-2023, it faltered in the face of formidable Russian defences. Moscow had learned from its earlier failures. One critical Russian adjustment was the expansion of its deployed forces, increasing from 150,000 troops in early 2022 to approximately 612,000 by 2025. Ukraine, meanwhile, had about 250,000 troops engaged at the frontlines—not including those allocated to protect other areas of the country.
General Valerii Zaluzhnyi, then Ukraine’s top military commander, acknowledged in November 2023 that the conflict had reached a “stalemate.” He cited several reasons for the failed offensive: poor intelligence, ineffective use of demining equipment and battlefield concealment, and the deployment of inexperienced brigades. Internal NATO documents, as reported by The Washington Post, revealed additional strategic shortcomings, including a lack of coordination and planning among Ukrainian commanders.
Phase III: Russian Consolidation (Late 2023 – August 2024)
By late 2023, Russia had begun consolidating its hold over key strategic areas in eastern and southern Ukraine. In February 2024, it captured the pivotal city of Avdiivka. Having addressed its earlier tactical weaknesses, Russia constructed what came to be known as the “Surovikin Line”—a vast network of trenches, bunkers, and defensive structures spanning over 1,500 kilometres, with some defences extending to a depth of 120 kilometres. This defensive infrastructure played a crucial role in repelling Ukrainian offensives.
In contrast, Ukraine continued to rely on the assumption that it could force Russian withdrawals with limited resources and constrained manpower. Its failure to adapt strategy in light of shifting battlefield dynamics further deepened the imbalance.
Phase IV: The Kursk Incursion (August 2024 – March 2025)
In August 2024, Ukraine launched a bold incursion into Russia’s Kursk region, briefly seizing about 1,000 square kilometres of territory. Militarily, however, the operation was a failure. The redeployment of elite Ukrainian units to the north weakened defensive lines in the south and east, allowing Russia to press forward toward key cities such as Pokrovsk and Chasiv Yar. The Ukrainian incursion into Kursk failed to draw Russian forces away from these strategic areas, nor did it yield leverage for negotiations. By March 2025, Russia had retaken all territory lost in the Kursk offensive, and Ukraine’s hopes of using occupied Russian territory as a bargaining chip in peace talks were dashed.
Western Misjudgements
From the outset, Western powers supporting Ukraine operated under the assumption that sweeping sanctions and military assistance would fatally weaken Russia’s economy and topple President Vladimir Putin’s regime. U.S. President Joe Biden openly stated in March 2022, “For God’s sake, this man cannot remain in power,” signalling Washington’s interest in regime change.
Similar sentiments echoed across Western capitals. Yet these forecasts proved dramatically inaccurate. Russia’s economy, though pressured, did not collapse. Contrary to predictions of a 50% contraction, it registered growth in 2023. Furthermore, most non-Western countries declined to participate in sanctions, unwilling to sever trade ties for vital commodities such as energy and grain.
Western strategists also misjudged the resilience of Russian domestic support. Despite significant hardship, the Russian public did not rise against the government in the way many had anticipated.
The Turning Point: Waning Western Support
One of Moscow’s long-term strategic bets was the eventual erosion of Western resolve. This gamble began to pay off with the 2025 election of Donald Trump, who expressed frustration over the billions spent on Ukraine with no decisive military gains. By April 2025, U.S. military aid had dropped to just $50 million, and Trump had initiated discussions about a peace deal with Russia.
Lessons in Strategic Realism
The Russian–Ukrainian war underscores a critical lesson: in high-stakes military conflicts, miscalculations can determine the outcome more than battlefield tactics. While both sides made strategic errors, Russia proved more adept at reassessing its failures and recalibrating its approach. Ukraine, on the other hand, persisted in flawed assumptions about both its own capabilities and the long-term commitment of its allies.
As great-power rivalries intensify globally, strategic misjudgements are likely to remain a hallmark of future conflicts. Though such errors may not be entirely avoidable, success will favour those who respond with agility—redefining objectives, adapting plans, and aligning ambitions with available resources. Only by doing so can nations hope to avoid the costs of protracted and ultimately unsuccessful wars.
By: Dr. Shadi Abdelwahab (Associate Professor, National Defence College)
