On December 25, 1991, Mikhail Gorbachev resigned as the last President of the Soviet Union. The red flag came down over the Kremlin and was replaced by the Russian tricolour. The Soviet Union — an empire of 290 million people across eleven time zones, the second most powerful state on earth, the rival the United States had built its strategic doctrine around for forty-five years — ceased to exist, peacefully, by signature. Three weeks earlier, the leaders of Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus had met in a hunting lodge at Belavezha and simply declared the union dissolved. No-one had forecast it five years earlier. Most CIA assessments through the late 1980s assumed the Soviet system would last indefinitely; as late as 1990, Western strategists still planned for a superpower adversary that had, in fact, only months to live.
The dissolution had multiple causes layered into each other. The economy had been stagnant since the early 1970s, with command planning unable to keep up with consumer demand; falling oil prices in the mid-1980s gutted the hard-currency earnings the system depended on. The Afghan war (1979–89) had been the Soviets' Vietnam — bleeding, humiliating, ideologically corrosive. Glasnost (Gorbachev's policy of openness) and perestroika (restructuring), intended to reform the system, instead let people speak, and what they said was that they did not believe in it any more. The Baltic states declared independence; Ukraine voted for it overwhelmingly in December 1991; the August 1991 coup by hardliners against Gorbachev collapsed in three days when the army refused orders and crowds rallied to Boris Yeltsin atop a tank outside the Russian parliament. Yeltsin emerged as the dominant figure of the new Russia, eclipsing Gorbachev entirely. The 1990s that followed were catastrophic — male life expectancy fell below sixty, GDP roughly halved, a handful of oligarchs captured the rigged privatization, and organized crime became a parallel state. The 1998 rouble default wiped out savings a second time. The political backlash to that decade of humiliation, more than anything else, produced Vladimir Putin.
Russia's contemporary geopolitics — the invasion of Ukraine, the obsession with NATO expansion, the irredentist rhetoric about a Russian world — is best understood as the unprocessed grief of 1991. Putin has called the Soviet collapse 'the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 20th century', and his project has been to reverse its strategic verdict without restoring its ideology. Whether the post-Soviet space stabilizes into a new equilibrium or remains a zone of revisionist conflict is one of the defining questions of contemporary European security — and the war over Ukraine is, in a real sense, still the dissolution being fought to a finish.