COMMENTARY: Russia Imports Gasoline by Ship: The Logistical Humiliation of an Empire on the Brink

Eleven million metric tons per year — the backbone of the energy sector

The Kapotnya refinery processed 11 million metric tons of crude oil per year. It produced gasoline in the three standard Russian grades—AI-80EK, AI-92EK, and AI-95EK—as well as diesel, jet fuel, road tar, sulfur for the chemical industry, and polymers. It is one of the ten largest refineries in all of Russia. It supplied 40% of the fuel needs of the Moscow region—one of the most densely populated and economically active regions in the country.

Shutting down this facility for at least six months—until at least 2027—creates a significant energy gap. The Moscow region will have to source its supplies from other Russian refineries—which are farther away and therefore more expensive to transport—or from oil tankers now heading back to Russian ports. This logistical realignment comes at a cost and creates strain on a supply chain already under pressure.

The Strikes of June 16 and 18: Surgical Precision

Two separate strikes on Kapotnya within forty-eight hours. The first, on June 16, 2026, sparked a spectacular fire visible from several kilometers away. The second, on June 18, targeted the ELOU-AVT-6 unit—the primary crude oil distillation facility, without which nothing else in the refinery can operate. Footage filmed by residents of the district showed multiple points of ignition, identifying the delivery vehicles as Ukrainian FP-1, Lyutyi, and Shahed-type drones.

This precise targeting of a specific unit, rather than a saturation bombing campaign, reveals a sophisticated level of intelligence and planning. To strike the ELOU-AVT-6 at Kapotnya, Ukrainian planners had to know its exact location within the complex, understand its central role in the refining process, and configure their drones to hit it with sufficient precision. This isn’t improvisation—it’s industrial-scale precision warfare.

I am no expert in military intelligence, and I do not know how Ukraine obtained the information necessary to target the ELOU-AVT-6 unit in Kapotnya with such precision. But the result speaks for itself: two strikes in 48 hours, a critical unit destroyed, a refinery out of service for at least six months. Whatever the method of intelligence gathering, it worked. And that’s what matters in a war.

Russian Identity and Oil: A Fundamental Political Equation

To understand just how much importing gasoline represents a political humiliation for Putin’s regime, one must understand the role of oil in Russian political identity. Since the 1970s—and particularly since the price surge of the 2000s—oil and gas have become the pillars of Russia’s economic identity and geopolitical power. Putin’s rise to power coincided with this oil windfall. He used hydrocarbon revenues to build his domestic popularity, finance his rearmament program, and buy Russia’s influence abroad.

An oil-producing country that imports gasoline is, symbolically, a country that has lost control of its own economic identity. It is a signal sent to the Russian people—one the government seeks to conceal, which explains the official statements downplaying the damage—and to Russia’s trading partners that something has profoundly changed in the country’s industrial capacity. Putin can silence journalists and censor the internet—but he cannot silence the oil tankers arriving at Russian ports.

The Impossible Counter-Narrative: Smoke Tells the Truth

The governor of Bashkortostan, Radiy Khabirov, attempted the usual counter-narrative after the June 25 strike on the Ufa refineries: the defenses repelled the attack, the plants are operating normally, everything is fine. But the black smoke visible from kilometers away, OSINT analyses from the Telegram channel Astra confirming damage to two refineries, and the mobile internet restrictions imposed during the alert rendered this counter-narrative untenable within a few hours.

This is the fundamental dilemma of Russian propaganda in 2026: lying is technically easier than ever, but strategically more difficult than ever. Everyone has a phone. Commercial satellites photograph everything. Russian Telegram channels—some of them, at least—report the realities that official propaganda erases. Mobile internet restrictions, intended to prevent the spread of images, have themselves become signals confirming that the strike was successful. Putin’s regime is trapped in its own logic of lies.

Russian propaganda has always thrived on opacity. But the digital age has made that opacity impossible to maintain. The smoke rising from Kapotnya and Ufa was filmed by dozens of ordinary people and shared instantly. The era of Putin’s war—waged in secret, hidden from the world’s gaze—is over. And this unintended transparency is one of the hidden victories of this war.

One-third of Russian refining capacity is offline

NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte cited a striking figure during his conversation with the Atlantic Council on June 25, 2026: Russian refinery output has fallen by one-third since the start of Ukraine’s campaign of strikes on oil infrastructure. One-third. That represents tens of millions of metric tons of refined products not produced each year. That’s diesel fuel missing for military trucks. Aviation kerosene missing for bombers. Gasoline missing for the armed forces’ light vehicles.

This reduction won’t bring Russia’s war machine to a halt overnight—Russia has stockpiles, refineries still in operation, and resources to compensate. But it creates mounting pressure on a logistics system already strained by four years of intense warfare. And with every month that the Kapotnya and Ufa plants remain out of service, that pressure increases a little more. The deterioration is gradual, but it is real and difficult to reverse.

The Ripple Effects on Russia’s Civilian Economy

The reduction in refining output does not only affect military operations. It also impacts the Russian civilian economy: drivers waiting in line at gas stations, truckers facing rising fuel costs, and industries that rely on diesel or kerosene for their operations. These civilian effects create internal political tensions that the Kremlin must manage with its usual tools: subsidies, price controls, and war nationalism.

But these tools have their limits. Russian regions are drowning in debt, according to data published in June 2026. The tax burden associated with financing the war—which, according to Rutte, absorbs more than 70% of federal tax revenue—leaves little room for additional subsidies for civilian energy. Russia finds itself in a dilemma between supporting its civilian economy and fueling its war effort, and this dilemma is becoming increasingly acute as refineries shut down.

The economic impact on Russia’s civilian sector is an area where I must admit my analytical limitations. I can cite the figures—an 80 billion deficit, bond yields at 15%, Q1 GDP at -0.2%—but I cannot honestly predict with precision how these economic strains will play out politically. Russia has demonstrated a capacity to absorb economic shocks that exceeds what most Western analysts had anticipated. I note this without downplaying the underlying trends.

The Baltic States and Poland on the Front Lines of the Pressure

While Ukraine strikes Russian refineries with its drones, the Baltic states and Poland are waging their own campaign to push the European Union to impose a complete oil embargo on Russia. According to the Kyiv Post on June 27, 2026, the Baltic states are pressuring Brussels to speed up the process, arguing that current sanctions still leave too much oil revenue available to Moscow. While the EU did extend its sanctions for an additional year during the renewal on June 19, 2026—an unusually long duration that signals heightened determination—a complete oil embargo remains a line that several member states are still hesitant to cross.

These hesitations are based on real concerns. Some EU member states remain dependent on Russian oil and gas, or maintain complex economic ties with Moscow. Completely severing these ties carries domestic economic costs that the governments in question are not prepared to bear without guarantees of compensation. But these domestic economic costs must be weighed against the human costs of the prolonged war in Ukraine—a trade-off that the governments in question sometimes refuse to acknowledge publicly.

The 21st Sanctions Package: An Opportunity to Seize

The EU is preparing its 21st sanctions package against Russia, according to information available as of June 27, 2026. This package, if ambitious, should include strengthened measures on refining technologies—to prevent Russia from rapidly rebuilding its damaged facilities with European equipment imported via intermediaries—and more aggressive secondary sanctions against companies that circumvent existing restrictions.

Ukraine deserves for the international community to align its sanctions policies with the realities on the ground created by its drone strikes. It is not enough to strike refineries—Western economic measures must also cut off the pathways to reconstruction. Sanctions on refining technologies, combined with a blockade of Russian oil exports and Ukrainian strikes on existing facilities: this is the complete equation that could truly shift the economic balance of power.

The EU has extended its sanctions by one year—good news. It is preparing a 21st sanctions package—also good news. But I must speak my mind honestly: this progress is too slow. While European diplomats laboriously agree on compromise wording, Ukrainian soldiers are being carried in body bags in and out of Ukraine. The pace of European diplomacy and the pace of the war in Ukraine are two realities that remain out of sync. And this is as much a moral problem as it is a strategic one.

What the residents of Ufa See from Their Windows

Bashkortostan is a republic of the Russian Federation with a complex history. Its population—Bashkirs, Tatars, and Russians—has been overrepresented among the soldiers sent to Ukraine, a reality that local human rights organizations have documented in detail. Its industries—petrochemicals, refining, and automotive manufacturing—have seen their operations disrupted by sanctions and now by direct strikes on their facilities.

On June 25, 2026, residents of northern Ufa saw black smoke rising from the industrial zone where their parents and neighbors work. The internet was cut off during the alert. The governor lied about the damage. And behind their VPNs, some read analyses confirming what the smoke had already revealed: two refineries hit, real damage, and a government hiding the truth from them. This is a recurring experience in many Russian regions that is slowly creating a rift between the official narrative and lived reality.

Military Mobilization and Casualties: Bashkortostan in Mourning

Bashkortostan has suffered particularly heavy military losses since 2022. Forced conscription has disproportionately affected the non-Russian regions of the federation, and Bashkortostan has not been spared. Mothers and wives waiting for news of their sons, repeated funerals, a local economy disrupted by mobilizations—this is the picture of a region paying dearly for a war decided in Moscow to serve imperial ambitions that are not its own.

In this context, the strike on the Ufa refineries will not be interpreted in the same way by all residents of Bashkortostan. For some, it is an act of aggression against their region, their jobs, and their daily lives. For others—particularly those who have lost loved ones in Ukraine or who privately oppose this war—it may be confirmation that something is amiss with Putin’s promise of a “victorious” war with no domestic consequences.

I want to be cautious when it comes to Russian domestic politics. I don’t have access to reliable opinion polls in Bashkortostan, and I’m not going to invent accounts of resistance that I can’t document. What I can say is that the combination of significant military losses, revelations about official lies, and now strikes on local industrial facilities is creating a context of potential discontent. Potential, only. The strength of Russian political control remains a reality that I do not underestimate.

Rosneft and the Cost of the War for the State-Owned Oil Industry

Rosneft, which controls the Ufa refineries through its subsidiary Bachneft, is one of the world’s largest oil companies and the central economic instrument of Putin’s regime. Its CEO, Igor Sechin, is one of the Russian president’s closest confidants and has been a pillar of the system for decades. When Rosneft’s refineries burn, part of the regime’s financial assets goes up in smoke.

For Rosneft, the Ukrainian strikes result in several types of losses. Direct losses: interrupted production, lost revenue, and substantial repair costs. Indirect losses: rising insurance costs for the remaining facilities, the need to invest in additional defenses, and an impact on the stock price—to the extent that this information is accessible to investors under a regime of censorship. And strategic losses: the image of a company unable to protect its most valuable assets.

Investment in Air Defense Systems: A Cost on Top of Everything Else

To protect their facilities from further strikes, Rosneft and other Russian oil companies will have to invest in air defense systems around their refineries. These systems—Pantsir, Tor, and electronic jamming systems—are expensive to acquire, deploy, and operate. And the demand is massive: it’s not a matter of protecting just a few facilities, but dozens of refineries spread across a vast territory.

This demand for air defense systems to protect industrial facilities creates a conflict over resources with the needs of the Ukrainian front. The Pantsir and Tor systems deployed around refineries are systems that are less available to protect troops in Ukraine. Ukraine has succeeded in creating internal competition for Russian air defense resources—protecting the rear or protecting the front?—and in this competition, industrial facilities do not always come out on top.

The competition for Russian air defense resources is a phenomenon I find fascinating from a strategic perspective. Ukraine has not only destroyed refineries—it has forced Russia to choose how to allocate its defenses among thousands of potential targets spread across millions of square kilometers. This is the game of systemic attrition at its best: not only imposing direct costs, but forcing impossible trade-offs.

Russian Ports and Reception Capacity

To import gasoline by sea, Russia must utilize ports capable of receiving and redistributing significant volumes of refined petroleum products. Novorossiysk on the Black Sea, a few ports on the Baltic Sea despite restrictions, and the Caspian ports for eastern routes. These facilities have their own capacity limits—maximum volumes, acceptable ship types, and available transfer equipment.

Receiving imported gasoline not only entails costs in terms of port fees and storage but also requires a complete logistical reorganization of distribution networks. Russia is accustomed to exporting its petroleum products through ports—not importing them. The infrastructure, storage systems, and domestic distribution networks are configured for export. Adapting them for import takes time and costs money—resources that Russia has in dwindling quantities.

Dependence on Foreign Suppliers: A Strategic Risk

By becoming a gasoline importer, Russia is creating a new dependence on foreign suppliers. This dependence is strategically dangerous for a state that has made economic self-sufficiency an ideological pillar of its regime. What happens if supplier countries decide, under Western diplomatic pressure or for their own reasons, to reduce or cut off their gasoline shipments to Russia? Dependence creates vulnerability.

This is an aspect that Ukrainian and Western strategists could exploit diplomatically. Putting pressure on countries considering selling gasoline to Russia—China, India, and certain Gulf states—to prevent them from offering Moscow this lifeline is a form of diplomatic economic warfare that would complement direct strikes. The question is whether Western governments have the political will to exert this discreet but effective pressure.

Diplomatic pressure to prevent foreign suppliers from offsetting Russian refining losses is an idea that strikes me as underutilized. Secondary sanctions exist precisely for this type of situation—to discourage third parties from bailing out a sanctioned regime. Using them more aggressively against potential sellers of gasoline to Russia would be a consistent application of sanctions doctrine. But this requires political will that some governments have not yet clearly demonstrated.

The Impact on Global Supply of Refined Products

The one-third reduction in Russian refining output—a figure cited by the NATO Secretary General on June 25, 2026—is having repercussions on global markets for refined petroleum products. Russia was a major exporter of diesel, particularly to Europe and Asia. This reduction in supply is putting pressure on diesel markets in regions that relied on these exports.

These market disruptions are having effects that extend beyond the Russia-Ukraine conflict. Countries that imported Russian diesel must find alternative sources—which are often more expensive. Refineries in other countries are increasing production to compensate. Global diesel prices are fluctuating. This is an example of how a localized war generates global economic effects—effects that may, in the long run, create political pressures in countries not directly involved in the conflict.

Russia as an Increasingly Unreliable Supplier

Beyond the immediate market effects, repeated Ukrainian strikes on Russian refineries are sending a lasting signal to all buyers of Russian petroleum products: Russia is an increasingly unreliable supplier. Its facilities are vulnerable, its production capacity is at risk, and repair times are long. For a buyer seeking stable and predictable supplies, this instability is a compelling commercial reason to diversify its sources of supply.

This diversification away from Russian sources, if it accelerates, represents a long-term structural victory for Ukraine’s strategy. It reduces Russia’s oil revenues beyond mere production capacity—it also erodes its global market share in a way that is difficult to regain once commercial trust has been lost. This is a long-term effect that drone strikes produce without even explicitly targeting commercial markets.

The erosion of Russia’s oil market share as an indirect effect of Ukrainian strikes is one of the most interesting and least-discussed aspects of this strategy. When an Asian oil company that used to buy Russian diesel begins to wonder whether its supplies will arrive, it diversifies. And once this diversification is established, it is difficult to reverse. Ukraine may be reshaping—whether intentionally or not—the geography of global oil markets.

Russia’s Peace Terms: A Capitulation Disguised as Negotiation

When asked about his peace terms in late June 2026, Vladimir Putin reiterated his willingness to negotiate “on the basis of the 2022 Istanbul agreements.” This wording, analyzed by the Institute for the Study of War in its June 23, 2026, assessment, is presented as a reaffirmation of the maximum war aims of 2022: the surrender of territories occupied by Russia, Ukraine’s permanent neutrality, limitations on its armed forces, and a de facto change of government. In plain terms: Ukraine’s total surrender disguised as “negotiation.”

In this context, the drone operation against the refineries takes on an additional dimension. It signals to Putin and potential mediators—including the United Arab Emirates, which is active in prisoner exchanges—that Ukraine has no intention of negotiating from a position of weakness. As long as Russia maintains its maximum demands, Ukraine will maintain its pressure on Russian infrastructure. It’s a logic of reciprocity: Do you want peace? Offer reasonable terms.

The diplomatic stalemate and economic warfare as a substitute

The current diplomatic stalemate—with Putin demanding surrender and Zelensky rightly refusing—means the war continues. In this context, Ukraine’s strategy of striking Russian infrastructure is the most effective form of pressure available. It does not resolve the diplomatic impasse on its own. But it makes the impasse more costly for Russia, accelerates the economic deterioration that could eventually force a revision of Russia’s positions, and maintains continuous pressure that prevents Ukraine from negotiating from a position of weakness.

Zelensky’s advisers have made it clear that “the Russian economy has reached a dead end.” This assessment, shared by the Kiel Institute—which speaks of “structural exhaustion”—suggests that Russia’s economic trajectory is unsustainable in the medium term. Ukraine’s strategy is banking on this unsustainability—and every refinery taken out of commission is another bet on the table.

I don’t know when the Russian economy will reach the breaking point that will force political change. No one knows for sure. Economies at war have reserves of resilience that standard models fail to capture. But I do know that the trajectory is unsustainable in the long term. And I know that every Ukrainian strike shortens that long term in one way or another. It is on this conviction that I base my support for Zelensky’s strategy.

Even if repaired, Kapotnya will be struck again

The Kapotnya refinery will eventually be repaired. In a year, perhaps two, Russian construction crews—using equipment imported from China or manufactured locally—will rebuild the destroyed units, replace the burned-out piping, and install new control systems. Production will resume. But there is no guarantee that it won’t be struck again. Ukraine has demonstrated that it can strike Kapotnya with surgical precision. Nothing will prevent it from doing so again if conditions warrant it.

This reality—that every repaired facility can be struck again—forces Russia to incur ongoing expenses for air defense and creates structural uncertainty regarding the availability of its industrial facilities. Investments in the reconstruction of Kapotnya therefore carry a risk that no normal industrial investment anticipates: that of being destroyed before it has even been written off. This is a risk externality that Russian planners must factor into all their industrial calculations.

The War of Attrition and Its Time Horizons

The war in Ukraine is, fundamentally, a war of attrition. Both sides seek to impose costs on the other until one of them decides that the costs outweigh the expected benefits. For Russia, the costs are mounting: colossal human losses, an economy under maximum pressure, refineries in flames, and growing international isolation. For Ukraine, the costs are just as dire: massive destruction, human casualties, and population displacement.

In this equation, the strikes on Russian refineries tip the scales of cost in Russia’s favor. Not in a decisive or immediate way—no one claims that. But cumulatively, persistently, and increasingly difficult to absorb for an economic system already operating beyond its normal limits. Ukraine strikes, Russia resists, but that resistance is becoming increasingly costly. And that, ultimately, is what a war of attrition is all about.

I don’t want to end on a triumphalist note that the facts do not justify. The war is long, it is terrible, and its outcome remains uncertain. What I can say with confidence is that Ukrainian strikes on Russian refineries are having real, measurable, and cumulative effects on Russia’s economic capacity to sustain its war effort. And in a war of attrition, that is exactly what matters.

A doctrine forged in the heat of necessity

Striking Russian refineries 1,300 kilometers deep is no accident. It is the result of a Ukrainian military doctrine that has been refined over more than four years of war. From the very first weeks of the conflict, Ukraine realized it could not prevail in a head-on war against an adversary with superior tanks, artillery, and missiles. It therefore developed an asymmetric strategy: striking Russia’s economic vulnerabilities—targets that drones can reach but artillery cannot.

The strikes on refineries fit into this strategy with remarkable consistency. Since the start of Ukraine’s major drone campaigns against Russian infrastructure—first military fuel depots, then regional refineries, and finally large complexes like Kapotnya and Bashneft—we have seen a gradual escalation in the range, precision, and economic impact of the strikes. Ukraine is not improvising. Ukraine is planning.

The Limits of What Drones Can Achieve

As impressive as this campaign may be, it has real limitations that it would be irresponsible to ignore. Ukrainian drones can degrade Russian refineries, but they cannot destroy Russia’s capacity to produce crude oil. The degradation of refining capacity is a severe logistical constraint, not a collapse of primary production. Russia has strategic reserves, import capacity, and an economy that has been restructured over the years to withstand sanctions.

The true effectiveness of the deep-strike strategy is therefore measured over the medium term: cumulative damage that adds to sanctions, human casualties, and rising budgetary costs. It is a strategy of attrition, not elimination. And attrition, by definition, requires time, perseverance, and sustained support from allies who do not lose heart before the effects are fully realized.

Strategic patience is perhaps the scarcest resource in this conflict—and Ukraine is demonstrating it with admirable consistency. Striking relentlessly, weathering the counterattacks, and maintaining pressure on Russian infrastructure while defending its own territory: this is an extraordinarily difficult balance to maintain. And Zelensky has been maintaining it for more than four years. That deserves more than just superficial admiration.

Weapons Deliveries That Made a Difference

Western support for Ukraine has evolved considerably since 2022. U.S. HIMARS systems, Abrams and Leopard tanks, Storm Shadow and SCALP missiles, and Patriot air defense systems—each new category of weapons supplied sparked internal debates within the Alliance and months of hesitation before finally being approved. And each time, Ukraine has proven that it uses these weapons judiciously and effectively.

The drones striking Kapotnya and Ufa are not weapons supplied by the West—they are Ukrainian-made. But they are partly powered by electronic components, navigation technologies, and expertise made possible by industrial exchanges with allies. Western support is not only military—it is industrial, technological, and financial. And this multidimensional support is one of the reasons why Ukraine will still be able to strike 1,300 km deep in June 2026.

What the Ankara Summit Must Deliver

The NATO summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026, is an opportunity to turn intentions into concrete commitments. Secretary General Mark Rutte is pushing for a target of 5% of GDP in defense spending by 2035, “tens of billions” in new contracts, and a “transatlantic industrial revolution” in defense. These ambitions are necessary—but they are worthless if they remain mere phrases in a summit communiqué.

What Ukraine expects from Ankara, in concrete terms: a lifting of restrictions on the use of Western weapons against Russian territory, an acceleration of deliveries, and strengthened support for the oil embargo demanded by the Baltic states. These demands are reasonable. They are backed by the results of Zelenskyy’s first 40 days, which prove that the support provided is having a real impact. Ankara must be the moment when the West decides to rise to the occasion.

I must admit to a persistent frustration with the slowness of Western decision-making on Ukraine. Each new category of weapons has taken months—sometimes more than a year—to be approved, following endless debates about the risks of escalation. And yet, each time, the feared escalation has not materialized. Ukraine has used the weapons cautiously, and Putin has responded with rhetoric rather than action. Excessive caution comes at a cost. I hope Ankara has finally understood this.

The Oil Tanker Heading Toward Russia: A Summary of a War

I return to my opening image: the oil tanker heading back toward Russia, loaded with gasoline. This image encapsulates everything this war has transformed. It shows that Russia’s oil power is being successfully challenged by a much smaller and less wealthy Ukraine. It shows that geographical depth no longer offers any protection—not for Moscow, not for the Urals, and not for the refineries in Bashkortostan. It shows that Ukrainian drones have changed the rules of modern economic warfare.

And it says one more thing that Russian leaders must hear: this war has costs that propaganda cannot erase. The lines at gas stations, internet restrictions, oil tankers in Russian ports—these are concrete realities that the people of Russia are experiencing or will eventually experience. The war that Putin sold them as clean, distant, and victorious is turning into an economic war that is impacting their daily lives. And this shift in reality has a political logic that cannot be ignored indefinitely.

The lesson for the West: supporting Ukraine means supporting reality

For the West, which will gather in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026, the smoke rising from Russian refineries speaks volumes. It shows that support for Ukraine is producing concrete results. It shows that Ukraine is making effective use of the resources and operational freedom granted to it. It also shows that the stronger this support is, the shorter the war will be. The 5% of GDP spent on defense, the tens of billions in contracts, the unrestricted support for Ukraine—that is what the smoke rising above Kapotnya and Ufa demands. A West that rises to the challenge of this fight.

Russia is importing its gasoline by ship. This isn’t the end of the war. But it is one of the first tangible signs that Ukraine’s strategy of economic pressure is working. That drones are worth more than speeches. And that resistance can be accompanied by an economic offensive that is slowly but surely shifting the balance of power in this conflict.

This commentary ends where it began: with the paradox of the Russian oil tanker. The image of a major oil power forced to import its own fuel sums up everything this war has accomplished. Ukraine has not yet won. But it has overturned one of the most fundamental certainties of the Putin system: that Russia’s energy power is untouchable. It is no longer untouchable. And this is irreversible.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist