Before February 2022, I remember laughing at reports that Oleg Tsaryov was being considered for a senior position in a Kremlin-imposed puppet government in Ukraine. It seemed absurd—Tsaryov was a has-been, irrelevant since 2014, and so illegitimate in Ukrainian eyes that his appointment would have been farcical. The idea that Moscow would genuinely believe he could serve as the face of a new regime felt like a dark joke, a sign of how utterly detached the Kremlin was from Ukrainian political reality.
Clearly, I was wrong to laugh. The full-scale invasion made it obvious that underestimating Moscow’s delusions was a mistake. It didn’t matter whether Tsaryov made sense as a candidate—what mattered was that the Kremlin thought he did. Russia wasn’t operating on reality; it was operating on its own logic of force, intimidation, and fantasy. And in that logic, Tsaryov’s appointment was a possibility. Increasingly, we all need to get used to living in such logic.
This week, the conversation in the West has revolved around Trump-Putin dialogue, speeches from J.D. Vance and Pete Hegseth, and what all this means for NATO and Ukraine. I have plenty of opinions, but none are particularly novel, partly because the writing has been on the wall (albeit perhaps not quite so terrifyingly) for some time.
The reality is simple: Europe is living in a post-NATO-as-we-knew-it world. The question is not whether Western Europe should wake up to this fact—it is whether, upon waking, it will do something tangible to save Ukraine and, by extension, the continent’s security. If you want a deeper analysis, read Keir Giles. All I have for you is musings on Kremlin collaborators and what they tell us about the current situation.
Overpaid and undermandated: the Kremlin’s men in Ukraine
For those unfamiliar, Oleg Tsaryov was once a Ukrainian MP, but by 2014 he had firmly aligned himself with Moscow’s interests. After Russia’s invasion of Crimea and the start of the war in Donbas, he became a key figure in the Kremlin’s attempt to manufacture legitimacy for its proxy forces. At one point, he was even declared the “Speaker” of the so-called “Novorossiya” project—Moscow’s short-lived attempt to unify its puppet entities in eastern Ukraine. But the project fizzled out, and Tsaryov faded into obscurity, making his 2022 reappearance as a potential leader of occupied Ukraine all the more bizarre.
Vitaliy Ganchev is cut from the same cloth, though his role is even more ridiculous. In Russian state media, he is treated as the “Head of the Kharkiv Oblast Administration,” a title that implies some degree of governance. In reality, he has no mandate, controls almost no territory, and commands no real authority. Yet he continues to be paraded through official channels, attending ceremonies, issuing proclamations, and making grand statements about Kharkiv’s “inevitable return” to Russia.
A plaque commemorating the spot in Kharkiv where Ukrainian patriots fought off (pro)Russian militants in March 2014, proving that ‘Kharkiv is a Ukrainian city’.
The Importance of Looking the Part
Moscow understands that, sometimes, appearances are all that matter. You just have to give people what they want to see.
In 2014, Russia gave the world a handful of gangsters with Kalashnikovs and called them “separatists.” This allowed Western policymakers to pretend the conflict in Donbas was an internal Ukrainian issue rather than a Russian military operation. By presenting a few locals as leaders, Moscow gave the West just enough ambiguity to avoid confronting the reality of its aggression.
Likewise, Russia has given the world endless discussions about NATO expansion, allowing some in the West to frame the war as a reaction to Western policy rather than an expression of Russian imperialism. Never mind that Russia didn’t care enough about NATO to stop Finland from joining, or that it moved nearly all its troops away from the 1,300km Finnish border to Ukraine. The NATO argument is convenient—it lets people focus on NATO as the problem rather than acknowledging that Russia’s real issue is Ukraine’s sovereignty.
And then there’s the question of peace. The Kremlin has done just enough—through off-the-record rumours, vague statements, and diplomatic theatrics—to convince some that it is open to negotiations. Never mind that its actions tell a different story. Never mind that Russia has militarised its economy, continues bombing civilians daily, and insists on the same bizarre war aims as in March 2022. Moscow doesn’t need to actually pursue peace—it just needs to provide enough words for people to write the story they want to read.
Why Ganchev Still Matters
This is where Ganchev fits in. His official role is absurd, but that absurdity serves a function. He exists to keep the illusion of Russian control in Kharkiv alive. Even though his “administration” barely governs anything, his presence allows Moscow to maintain the appearance of governance (even if only to domestic audiences).By giving Ganchev a title and a platform, Russia can pretend it has a legitimate political structure in place.
What the actual Kharkiv Regional Administration looks like (from the back) thanks to Ganchev’s paymasters’ efforts to ‘protect and liberate’ Kharkiv.
This can then be used to justify and legitimise future territorial claims. If Moscow ever regains military momentum in the northeast (and it is fighting on three fronts in Kharkiv region), it will point to Ganchev’s administration as proof that Kharkiv was always meant to be Russian. And at the very least, it functions as a tool of destabilisation. Even in areas it doesn’t control, Moscow fosters instability by maintaining parallel institutions and figures like Ganchev.
This isn’t speculation; it’s a tactic Russia has used before. The so-called “Donetsk People’s Republic” and “Luhansk People’s Republic” operated under similar logic for eight years before their formal annexation in 2022. Judging by the location of Russian force concentrations, Kharkiv isn’t an immediate priority for Moscow right now, yet clearly it sees value in keeping a placeholder local government in waiting.
The Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore
The presence of figures like Tsaryov and Ganchev should serve as a warning. Tsaryov was funny—until he wasn’t. Ganchev is funny now—but he won’t be if Russia advances much further in Kharkiv. The Kremlin’s game is one of incremental normalisation: first, a joke of a politician, then an established presence, then a justification for further action.
Europe, meanwhile, risks playing a different game—one of willful self-delusion. The idea that Western European security was a given used to be self-evident. Now it is questioned. The idea that NATO’s role in deterring Russia was unshakable was taken for granted. Now it is up for debate. These were once foundational beliefs. Today, they are contested. Soon, if action isn’t taken, they will become absurd.
Moscow does not need to be militarily stronger than the West—it simply needs the West to hesitate long enough for its ambitions to become reality. And if history has shown anything, it is that Moscow is willing to wait for its moment. It waited in Donbas. It is waiting for Kharkiv.
Now it is up to Europe’s main powers to decide how long they plan to keep waiting, too. Hopefully not too long, or who knows if anything will be funny by then.