The latest talks with the Russian Federation made it clear that Moscow sees the complete takeover of the Kherson and Zaporizhzhia regions as a non-negotiable goal. This came as a surprise to many — both in Ukraine and across the West — at least partially. It’s not just about the areas already occupied; roughly a quarter of these regions remain under Ukrainian control or have been reclaimed by Ukraine’s Armed Forces. Yet, neither American nor European officials can grasp why Vladimir Putin is so determined to seize territory that Ukrainian troops hold firmly, especially given that Russia currently lacks the military capacity to do so.
When Russian commentators try to explain the invasion’s so-called “root causes,” they often cite historical, ethnocultural, political, and other factors — frequently drawing on strictly academic historical facts. Putin’s references to past events have even become fodder for countless memes on social media. But there are other scholarly studies that Russians don’t talk about — ones that shed light on Moscow’s strategic drive to control the Dnipro Delta, push to the Southern Bug River, and also help explain why North Korea joined the war alongside Russia.
Putin and other Russian leaders have often said they launched the war against Ukraine so that “it wouldn’t be passed down to their children and grandchildren.” But what do they really mean by that?
The Russians have long kept a close watch on scientific advancements. During Putin’s years as an officer in the Soviet KGB’s foreign intelligence service, his duties included spying within the scientific community—recruiting foreign researchers, stealing cutting-edge technologies, and thwarting attempts to recruit Soviet scientists who maintained contacts with Western colleagues. It’s telling that today, within the Russian Federation, the FSB’s crackdown on “spies” among its own scientists is in full force. By summer 2022, incomplete reports indicated that more than 100 Russian scientists had been convicted or detained on charges of state treason. Among them are heads of research institutes, doctoral degree holders, and internationally renowned scholars.
The scientific developments at the heart of this concern involve modelling global climate change. Russia was one of the first countries to feel its impact firsthand. Global warming is an unavoidable phenomenon studied by scientists worldwide. While researchers still debate whether global warming is driven by human activity or is simply a natural cycle—science has shown that the planet has undergone five similar climate shifts over millions of years—all agree that climate change is inevitable. The main differences lie in timing: some predict changes unfolding over years, others over centuries.
Since the 2000s, Russia’s Arctic regions have been slowly becoming unlivable. Russian scientists have shown that by the mid-2030s, the Arctic will warm up sharply, causing major changes to its plants and animals. The government acted quickly after seeing these warnings.
In the 2010s, people living in the Arctic quietly started relocating south, mostly to areas like Russia’s Krasnodar Krai, which was already facing a population increase from the Caucasus. Interestingly, during Viktor Yanukovych’s presidency, some of these “Arctic migrants” even settled in Ukraine.
Then, in the summers of 2019 and 2020, central Russia faced a new problem: wells dried up completely. Villagers, holiday homeowners, and farmers had to start buying water. This led to a wave of grim but scientifically backed predictions in the Russian media. By 2100, rising temperatures and sea levels could flood large parts of Russia—including Saint Petersburg. In Ukraine, big areas of Crimea and the Kherson, Zaporizhzhia, Mykolaiv, and Odesa regions could also go underwater. Across Europe, the countries likely to be hit hardest include Estonia, Latvia, Denmark, the Netherlands, Germany, France, Portugal, Italy—and especially the UK.
In 2019 and 2020, the issue of shrinking drinking water supplies on the Crimean Peninsula came to a head. Crimea’s reservoirs relied heavily on water from the Dnipro River, delivered through the North Crimean Canal. But after Ukraine blocked the canal, the peninsula slowly began to dry out, and the Russian government struggled to fix the problem — except by military force. After the Russian invasion on February 24, 2022, and the capture of the canal’s locks, Russian forces simply blew them up, restoring the flow of water to Crimea.
Scientists also predict that the parts of Kherson and Zaporizhzhia regions Russia took control of in 2022 could be underwater within the next 70 to 100 years. Meanwhile, the areas still held by Ukraine’s Armed Forces are higher above sea level and rich in freshwater, making them valuable long-term. Russia’s lack of major attacks on Odesa might be tied to these climate forecasts — some experts say that, like Saint Petersburg, Odesa could eventually face flooding that would force its residents to relocate.
In the worst-case scenario, by 2100, rising sea levels could mix seawater with Russia’s largest freshwater reserves — including major rivers like the Ob, Yenisei, Lena, Pechora, Northern Dvina, Amur, and Ural.
Among other countries, China—and especially North and South Korea—are expected to face severe challenges from global warming and rising sea levels.
Looking ahead, the biggest challenge for future generations—their children and grandchildren—could well be the fight over drinking water and habitable land.
Ukraine has significant freshwater reserves, mainly in the Dnipro, Southern Buh, and the Siverskyi Donets rivers and their tributaries—all now caught in the crosshairs of Russian military aggression. Regions like Polissia, Podillia, and the Dnipro basin could also become climate refuges, offering relatively comfortable living conditions. That means within the next century, these areas may become highly attractive to populations forced to leave their homelands.
Demographics also weigh heavily on Russia’s strategic calculations—specifically, Ukraine’s sharp population decline. Even without war, epidemics, or crises, Ukraine’s population has dropped by 10 million over 23 years of independence. Since the full-scale invasion on February 24, 2022, the number of people actually living under Ukrainian government control has shrunk further. Moscow knows that in a few decades, Ukraine’s freshwater reserves and arable land could make it a target for new waves of aggression from migrating peoples. Given the current demographic trends, Ukraine might struggle to defend itself alone. At the same time, Russia will lose these rivers and territories too—unless it takes control of them now or in the near future.
If we look at Russia’s war against Ukraine “for the sake of children and grandchildren,” it really becomes a race against time. When the rising waters eventually come, Russian leaders will have to find new places to relocate people from the Far East, Siberia, the Baltic coast, the Kola Peninsula, and other areas. On top of that, it’s quite possible that Russia might have to give up some of its livable, freshwater-rich lands to a powerful neighbour like China.
In this light, the presence of North Korean troops on the Ukrainian front and the strategic partnership deal signed between Russia and North Korea on June 19, 2024, don’t seem like the crazy whims of Putin and Kim Jong Un anymore. The Koreans are also thinking about their future generations, who may one day have to leave their ancestral homes and move — maybe to places like Kharkiv or Poltava. Scientists warn that North Korea’s situation could become critical as sea levels continue to rise.
Looking at the fight over land and water, the harsh tactics of the Russian military in traditionally Russian-speaking regions — Donetsk, Kharkiv, Dnipropetrovsk, Odesa, and Mykolaiv — start to make more sense. By relentlessly bombing so-called Russian-speaking communities and destroying entire cities, they aren’t protecting these people’s rights; they’re after their land. At the same time, any relatively loyal population left in the occupied areas is seen as valuable by Russia: no matter how few remain, they’ll raise a new generation — one shaped the “right” way.
Seen through the lens of scientific predictions, the Russian military’s goals during the full-scale invasion that began on February 24, 2022, become clearer.
Tank forces pushed generally from east to west, aiming first and foremost to cut off fresh water supplies — specifically the basins of the Dnipro and Southern Buh rivers. Their moves to occupy Chernihiv, Kyiv, Sumy, and later Zhytomyr were driven by a desire to control the water-rich Polissya region.
It’s quite possible that one of Russia’s main, though unspoken, goals in this war is to seize freshwater reserves and territories that will remain livable 100 to 200 years from now. Meanwhile, the talk about protecting the Russian language, the church, and their claims of “denazification” serves as little more than a cover—or tools to justify the real aim. Scientific research doesn’t resonate with the general public, and it’s clear that Vladimir Putin’s core supporters likely won’t be alive when these drastic climate changes fully take hold.
I’d like to thank Pavlo Kortsub, a research fellow at the National Military History Museum of Ukraine, for his help in preparing this article.
