Elvira Bary

Russia calls itself a superpower. It sells itself as a fortress surrounded by enemies. For years, state television told Russians that the army had everything under control.

And now small Ukrainian drones fly thousands of miles and hit the country’s biggest oil facilities and warehouses.

Why does it look as if nobody is stopping them?

Too Many Targets

For centuries, Russia’s sheer size was its best protection. Russia was too large to invade easily. Armies stretched supply lines and became easy targets.

But now look at the same map through a drone operator’s eyes.

You will see thousands of targets spread across enormous territory: refineries, fuel depots, airfields, warehouses, bridges, ports, power plants, drone factories, and military headquarters.

Every target wants protection. But there are never enough systems for everyone. Ukraine only needs to find the places where the protection is thinner.

This is why the drone campaign is so effective politically. A single successful strike can force Russia to defend dozens of similar targets. Hit one refinery, and every refinery director panics. Hit one marketplace warehouse, and every region asks why it was left exposed.

And Russia has another problem: much of its best air-defense equipment is already needed near Ukraine.

The Wrong Machine

With Russia’s military being overall strong, why is it that bad at anti-drone defense?

The answer is in how Russia’s military machine is built to operate.

It is strictly top-down. Orders go downward, while reports go upward. This kind of operation only requires command and obedience. It works for attacking the targets decided by the small group on the top.

Defense is different. It requires many people in many places to make fast decisions with incomplete information. A drone appears. Does it look like a threat? Where is it going? Which unit should respond?

Those are the questions people in a healthy system ask.

But in Russia, people first ask a different question: who will be blamed? Who will become the scapegoat if the missile misses or debris falls on a house?

This is how the drone flies through the state.

A local official may see a threat moving across his region. But if the drone is not aimed at his own facility, why take responsibility? If he orders an interception and it fails, he has created a visible failure. If he uses expensive equipment and nothing happens, he may be accused of wasting resources.

So doing nothing can become the safest choice.

This is not cowardice in the simple sense. It is bureaucratic survival. In a system built on fear, people learn not to touch anything dangerous unless they have direct permission from above.

There is also the money problem.

Air defense is expensive. And wherever there is budget money in Russia, there are people trying to sit on the flow.

The people placed near the money are not always the most competent engineers or organizers. They are often the safest people politically: loyal and useful.

This produces the classic Russian result: paperwork improves faster than reality.

On paper, mobile groups exist and facilities are defended. Then a drone flies over and hits its target, almost unobstructed.

Hesitant Hands

So who is supposed to shoot these drones down?

Russia has begun forming mobile fire groups in many regions. But to be effective, they need information from a larger network to know when a drone is coming. They need weapons, rules of engagement, and communication with other units.

And most of all, they need practice.

A drone at night is a small, moving target, sometimes barely visible. The team must decide quickly.

Ukraine’s mobile groups developed under constant attack. They learned because they had to learn. They are defending cities that are hit night after night. Mistakes are paid for immediately, and successful methods spread quickly.

Russia is trying to build this system after discovering that deep strikes are no longer an occasional embarrassment but a strategic campaign.

There is also the legal problem. If a mobile group damages a drone and it crashes into civilian property, who is responsible? If a team fires and misses, who answers for bullets or fragments?

These questions shape behavior. People who fear punishment or lack training will hesitate, just long enough for the drone to hit its target.

Another part of the problem is that many Russian civilians do not see drones as a threat. A typical picture: a drone buzzes across the sky over a Russian town, and locals step outside with phones and point upward. Someone laughs. Someone swears. Someone says, “There it goes.” They film the drone like a strange bird.

If a drone is downed and explodes not far from this filming crowd, there will be injuries and deaths that could be avoided if people scrambled for safety instead. But these people aren’t trained or instructed to do this. Knowing that civilians might be in the open, mobile groups prefer not to fire so they won’t accidentally kill anyone.

Why Is It So Difficult?

A unified network requires trust between agencies. Putin’s state is built on agencies spying on each other.

Cheap innovation requires letting engineers, soldiers, volunteers, and local commanders experiment. The system prefers loyal contractors and controlled money flows.

Legal protection requires the state to defend people who make risky decisions. In Russia, the state usually protects itself first.

And honest reporting is the hardest part of all because officials are too scared of losing their position if they displease a superior.

That is why drones keep finding the holes.

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