Standing in queues after work isn't exactly fun
In the long arc of modern warfare, Ukraine's drone strikes on St Petersburg's Kirovsky oil terminal and the Vysotsk port mark a deliberate turn toward economic attrition — an attempt by a smaller power to erode the industrial lifeblood of a larger one. Kyiv, unable to match Russia's conventional might, has chosen instead to target the refineries, ports, and revenue streams that sustain Moscow's military campaign. The fires over Russia's second city are not merely tactical events but signals of a strategy that measures victory not in territory seized, but in fuel lines that run dry and state budgets that quietly bleed.
- Ukrainian drones reached deep into Russian territory — over 530 miles from Ukraine's border — striking an oil terminal in St Petersburg and a major Baltic port in a single coordinated overnight operation.
- Russia claimed to intercept 72 drones over the Leningrad region, yet injuries at a factory in Velikiye Luki and deaths in Bryansk and Crimea confirm that defenses did not hold everywhere.
- Long queues at petrol stations south of St Petersburg — some pumps running completely dry — are making the war's economic toll viscerally real for ordinary Russian civilians.
- Putin publicly dismissed the strikes as non-critical, yet simultaneously signed emergency tax incentives to prop up domestic fuel production — a contradiction that reveals the actual depth of the pressure.
- Zelenskyy claimed full responsibility, framing the campaign as a direct assault on Russia's war economy, signaling that these strikes are not opportunistic but part of a sustained, deliberate strategy.
Smoke rose over St Petersburg on Saturday after Ukrainian drones struck the Kirovsky oil terminal in Russia's second-largest city, while a second drone hit the Vysotsk port in the Leningrad region — a sprawling facility handling oil, grain, coal, and liquefied natural gas. Ukrainian officials also claimed strikes on military installations along the Baltic coast, including the naval fortress of Kronstadt, more than 530 miles from Ukraine's border. St Petersburg's governor confirmed the attack on the city of six million, describing it as large-scale but reporting no deaths there. The human toll fell elsewhere: at least one person killed in Bryansk, another in Russian-annexed Crimea, where a 10-year-old child was among the injured.
President Zelenskyy took public credit, framing the operation as a direct strike on Russia's war economy. The logic is deliberate: by damaging refineries and disrupting fuel supplies, Kyiv aims to drain the revenue and resources Moscow needs to sustain its military. Russia claimed to have intercepted dozens of drones, but damage reports and casualties confirmed that some reached their targets.
The campaign's real measure appeared not at military sites but at civilian petrol stations. In Gatchina, south of St Petersburg, queues stretched around fuel pumps, with some running dry entirely. Fuel shortages have spread across multiple Russian regions — the slow, grinding consequence of Ukraine's methodical targeting of supply infrastructure.
Moscow's response exposed a telling contradiction. Putin dismissed the strikes as non-critical, yet simultaneously signed amendments to Russia's tax code offering incentives for domestic fuel production — emergency measures that quietly acknowledge the damage is real. This is the shape of Ukraine's strategy: not battlefield dominance, but economic attrition — targeting the refineries, ports, and revenue streams that sustain the war, making its cost visible not only to soldiers, but to the civilians whose fuel tanks run empty.
Smoke billowed over St Petersburg on Saturday as Ukrainian drones struck the Kirovsky oil terminal in Russia's second-largest city, part of an accelerating campaign to cripple the energy infrastructure that funds Moscow's war machine. The attack came overnight, targeting not just the terminal itself but military installations scattered across the Baltic region—including what Ukrainian officials say was the naval fortress of Kronstadt, more than 530 miles from Ukraine's border. St Petersburg's governor, Alexander Beglov, confirmed the strike on the city of six million residents, describing it as large-scale but claiming no deaths. In the surrounding Leningrad region, another drone hit the Vysotsk port, a sprawling facility 170 kilometers northwest that handles oil, grain, coal, and liquefied natural gas bound for markets across Russia.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy took public credit for the operation, framing it as a direct assault on Russia's war economy. The strikes are not isolated incidents but part of a deliberate, sustained strategy: by damaging refineries and disrupting fuel supplies, Kyiv aims to starve Moscow of the revenue and resources needed to sustain its military operations. Russian air defenses claimed to have intercepted 72 drones over Leningrad and more than 30 over neighboring Pskov, though damage reports and injuries—including at a factory in Velikiye Luki—suggest some got through. The human toll extended beyond the immediate strike zones: at least one person was killed in Russia's Bryansk region, another in Russian-annexed Crimea, where a 10-year-old child was among several injured.
The real measure of the campaign's effectiveness, however, was visible not in military installations but at civilian petrol stations. In Gatchina, south of St Petersburg, long queues snaked around fuel pumps, with some outlets running dry. A resident named Gennadiy described the grinding reality of life under these constraints: standing in line after work, knowing he would return in days to do it again. This is the texture of energy warfare—not explosions alone, but the slow friction of scarcity grinding against ordinary life. Fuel shortages have rippled across multiple Russian regions, a direct consequence of Ukraine's methodical destruction of the infrastructure that supplies them.
Moscow's response has been twofold: denial and adaptation. President Vladimir Putin has repeatedly dismissed the attacks as "not critical" to Russia's war effort, insisting the campaign will continue regardless. Yet simultaneously, the Kremlin moved to shore up domestic fuel production. Putin signed amendments to Russia's tax code designed to support the fuel market, including tax incentives for producing high-octane fuel through blending—a tacit acknowledgment that the damage is real enough to require state intervention. This contradiction—dismissing the strikes as inconsequential while simultaneously implementing emergency economic measures—reveals the actual pressure Ukraine's campaign is exerting.
What unfolds is a form of warfare that operates at the intersection of military strategy and economic attrition. Ukraine cannot defeat Russia on the conventional battlefield through sheer force, so it has chosen instead to target the sinews of the Russian state: the refineries that produce fuel, the ports that export it, the revenue streams that finance the military. Each drone that reaches its target compounds the pressure. Each queue at a petrol station is a small fracture in the social contract between a government and its people. The strikes on St Petersburg and the Baltic coast are not aberrations but the latest chapter in a campaign that will likely continue as long as the war does—a slow, methodical attempt to make the cost of war visible not just to soldiers, but to the civilians whose fuel tanks run empty.
Citas Notables
Ukraine's defence forces struck port oil infrastructure that generates revenue for Russia's war, and also hit Kronstadt, an important military target more than 850 km from Ukraine's state border.— Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy
Standing in queues after work isn't exactly fun. And then, in a couple of days, I'll have to stand in queues again, because I'll run out of gas again.— Gennadiy, St Petersburg resident
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why target oil terminals and ports rather than military bases directly?
Because military bases are defended. But more than that—oil is the circulatory system. Damage a refinery, and you don't just hurt the army; you hurt the economy that funds it. You create civilian fuel lines. You force the government to choose between supplying the front and supplying the home.
Putin says these strikes aren't critical. Does that mean they're not working?
It means the opposite. If they weren't working, he wouldn't need to sign emergency tax amendments to prop up fuel production. You don't introduce state subsidies for something that doesn't matter. The dismissal is political theater.
What about the people standing in those fuel queues? Are they turning against the war?
That's the harder question. Scarcity breeds resentment, but resentment doesn't automatically become opposition. It can also breed resignation, or anger directed at Ukraine rather than at Moscow. A person waiting for fuel blames the attack, not the war that made the attack necessary.
How long can Ukraine sustain this campaign?
As long as they have drones and the ability to manufacture or acquire them. The real constraint isn't Ukrainian capacity—it's whether the damage accumulates faster than Russia can repair or adapt. Right now, Russia is adapting. That's the next phase of the war.
Is this a winning strategy for Ukraine?
It's a strategy of attrition. Ukraine can't outproduce Russia militarily, so it's trying to make the war economically unsustainable. Whether that works depends on whether the pressure breaks something in the Russian system before Ukraine runs out of resources or will.