Russian President Vladimir Putin’s assertion that “the double-headed eagle symbolizes Russia’s strategic interests not only in the West and East, but also in the South” has stirred deep concern among countries situated along Russia’s southern borders. When one considers the historical and symbolic weight of this emblem, it becomes clear that this statement carries an implicit threat toward those nations.
The double-headed eagle featured in Russia’s state emblem is inherited from the Byzantine Empire. Due to dynastic ties—particularly the marriage between Ivan III and Byzantine princess Sophia—the Russian Empire adopted this symbol into its official heraldry. In Byzantium, the double-headed eagle represented sovereignty over both East and West. By invoking this symbol, Putin is not merely referencing history; he is signaling that Russia’s imperial ambitions remain alive. The war in Ukraine, then, is not the end—it is merely a chapter in a broader strategic vision, with future conflicts likely to erupt in the South.
This raises a pressing question: are the countries south of Russia prepared for such a war?
Undeniably, Russia surpasses its southern neighbors in terms of population, natural resources, economic power, and defense capabilities. This is an indisputable fact. However, these advantages do not guarantee that Russia can easily invade and dominate these nations as it did during the Tsarist era. Times have changed. Economic instruments have evolved. In fact, Russia’s ambitions may ultimately become its undoing. One can confidently argue that Russia will either abandon its imperialist ideology and establish respectful, civil, and democratic relations with its neighbors—or it will reduce into a regional power akin to North Korea, Mongolia, Iran, or Egypt.
To clarify this point, consider the wars that have taken place since World War II. In most cases, it was not the powerful aggressors who emerged victorious, but the smaller nations defending their sovereignty. Examples include the U.S.–Vietnam War, the Vietnam–China War, the Afghanistan–USSR conflict, the Angolan War, and the Iran–Iraq War. These outcomes were shaped by several factors: the transformation of military technology, the strengthening of logistics, the globalization of warfare, and most importantly, the diminishing economic profitability of war.
In the age of empires, land and warfare were primary sources of wealth. Trade existed, but it was not as lucrative. Industrialization introduced countless new avenues for income, rendering war economically obsolete. Today, military service is no longer a prestigious career path—it has become a hindrance. This is precisely why interest in war and military service is waning. Countries like Germany face soldier shortages. Russia’s advance toward Kyiv was halted not due to inferior equipment, but because it failed to supply its troops and could not sustain combat across vast territories. The Russian army’s retreat was a logistical failure, not a tactical one. Similar patterns were seen in the First Chechen War, where soldier mothers held mass protests in Moscow, and in the Vietnam War, where American citizens voiced strong opposition.
While Putin and a handful of elites may still cling to imperial dreams, ordinary people do not. This is evident from the mass exodus that followed Russia’s mobilization announcement—kilometer-long queues at border checkpoints, hundreds of thousands fleeing conscription. Even now, nearly three years later, dozens of abandoned vehicles remain in the neutral zone between Russia and Georgia, left behind due to technical issues that prevented their owners from crossing.
If Russia attempts to pursue imperialist policies and attack southern nations, it will face a severe shortage of soldiers. But that’s not the only challenge. As mentioned earlier, military technology has evolved. Fifty years ago, only a few countries could produce military aircraft. Today, nations from Pakistan to Turkiye, South Korea to Brazil manufacture both civilian and military planes. Moreover, the rise of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) has changed the game entirely. Conflicts such as Operation Dawn of Idlib 2, the 44-day war, and the ongoing war in Ukraine have demonstrated that drones can neutralize expensive military equipment at a fraction of the cost. Tanks worth millions can be destroyed by drones costing as little as $100—some even produced with 3D printers in garages or basements.
As a result, soldiers seeking medals or loot—such as those looting occupied Ukrainian territories—may return home disabled, or worse, not at all. In fact, those who return injured are considered fortunate, as many do not survive. Before and during such wars, Russian media often launches psychological campaigns to pressure the citizens of targeted countries and prepare its own population for conflict. Threats are issued. But when we examine the last 50 years of history, a different reality emerges.
In the 1970s and 1980s, Russia competed with the United States. Washington was Moscow’s equal. The war in Afghanistan resulted in over a million Afghan deaths, and half the population became refugees. Yet, in the end, Russia fragmented into 15 separate states. Eastern Europe and much of Africa slipped from its grasp. The world’s second superpower was reduced to the level of a regional super-power, like France or the United Kingdom. Only a few former Soviet republics and countries like Syria remained within its sphere of influence.
As a result of the war in Ukraine, Russia lost the Middle East entirely, suffered major blows to its influence in Africa, and nearly lost the Caucasus (except for a few loyalist members of the Karabakh clan in Armenia). Today, Russia’s sphere of influence is limited to mostly Central Asia. We can say that Russia’s status has shifted from a regional superpower to a quasi-regional one. It’s true that Russia is not yet dead—it still has influence in some countries. But if it doesn’t abandon its imperialist ambitions, it may not only lose its remaining sphere of influence, but we might even witness another fragmentation of Russia itself.
In the end, the double-headed eagle may symbolize ambition, but it also foreshadows vulnerability. If Russia continues to chase imperial illusions in a world that has outgrown them, it risks not only military failure but geopolitical isolation and internal collapse. The future will not be shaped by empires resurrecting old symbols—it will be defined by nations that embrace cooperation, innovation, and mutual respect. Whether Russia chooses to evolve or unravel is no longer a question of capability, but of will. And history has shown that will alone cannot reverse the tide of progress.
