The Return of the Mercenary: Russia’s Outsourced War in Ukraine

Tuesday 10 February 2026

The mercenary—once denounced as a barbaric vestige of pre-modern warfare—has re-emerged not only as a battlefield phenomenon, but as a geopolitical instrument wielded with precision and cynicism. Nowhere has this development become more visible, or more strategically consequential, than in Russia’s ongoing war of aggression against Ukraine. The reintroduction of hired guns into the heart of Europe has reshaped the moral boundaries of war, the architecture of Russian power projection, and the civilian experience of occupation and resistance.

A Useful Fiction: The Denial of State Responsibility

Mercenaries thrive in the grey zones of war—territories where state violence is deniable and accountability evanescent. From the outset of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the Kremlin deployed irregular formations to augment, and at times to replace, her overextended and poorly coordinated conventional forces. In doing so, Russia revived a centuries-old imperial practice: outsourcing brutality to freebooters, irregulars, and deniable proxies.

These forces operated under various banners—the Wagner Group, Redut PMC, Convoy, and a shifting constellation of other armed private formations—but all ultimately derived their authority from the state. Their unofficial character was not a symptom of decentralisation. It was the point. The Kremlin found in mercenaries a politically expendable, strategically flexible and ethically deniable extension of its will.

Wagner: The Spectre that Still Haunts

Wagner PMC, once led by Yevgeny Prigozhin until his dramatic rebellion and death in 2023, remains the archetype. Founded as a covert tool of Russian statecraft, Wagner cut its teeth in Syria and the Central African Republic before becoming infamous in Ukraine for its role in the battles for Bakhmut and Soledar. There Wagner fighters—many of them convicts released from Russian prisons in exchange for a chance at pardon—were used as expendable infantry in human wave assaults, clearing Ukrainian trenches at grotesque human cost.

The utility was dual: Wagner relieved pressure on the regular army and enabled the Kremlin to flood sectors with manpower without triggering a new domestic mobilisation. Casualty rates were irrelevant. The mercenaries were disposable by design. By the time Wagner’s leaders fell afoul of the Kremlin and were eliminated, the damage had been done—both to Ukraine’s urban fabric and to any remaining constraints on Russian conduct.

Though Wagner as an entity was restructured, renamed and partially reabsorbed into the Russian Ministry of Defence, the broader model endured. New formations emerged, funded by oligarchs, regional governors or commercial interests tied to defence contracts. The Russian state permitted, even encouraged, this warlordisation so long as loyalty was maintained and deniability preserved.

The War Becomes a Franchise

By 2025, the war in Ukraine had morphed into a patchwork of overlapping command structures. Alongside regular formations of the Russian Armed Forces operated dozens of semi-autonomous mercenary units. Some served on specific fronts; others protected logistics hubs, manned rear-line checkpoints, or engaged in low-cost offensive action. Many were poorly trained, motivated by pay and plunder rather than ideology. Their conduct—towards civilians, prisoners, and even one another—reflected this chaos.

This franchising of war suited the Kremlin’s purposes. It ensured competition amongst commanders, diverted blame for war crimes, and allowed informal economic activity—such as the looting of Ukrainian grain, vehicles and personal property—to flourish under a veneer of plausible deniability. It also injected fear and uncertainty into occupied areas, as no clear authority governed the behaviour of disparate units flying different colours.

Ukraine, by contrast, integrated her foreign volunteers and private security support into a coherent and transparent chain of command. Her International Legion, drawn from Western and post-Soviet volunteers alike, fought under Ukrainian military authority and in compliance with the Geneva Conventions. While not without controversy, this force stood in stark contrast to the lawless conduct of Russian mercenaries.

The Cost of Outsourced Violence

The cost of Russia’s mercenary war has been paid by civilians beyond anyone else. Towns subjected to Wagner-led offensives—Bakhmut above all—have been transformed into moonscapes of rubble, corpses, and mass graves. Video evidence has repeatedly shown mercenaries conducting field executions, torturing prisoners, and using civilians as human shields. Moscow has either denied the crimes outright or claimed ignorance, exploiting the lack of legal clarity over mercenary status in Russian law.

Moreover the mercenarisation of war corrodes the Russian state itself. Competing power centres within the armed forces, from GRU-backed units to oligarch-funded PMCs, have eroded the chain of command. The Kremlin now presides over a war machine riddled with rivalry, corruption and operational incoherence. Ukraine, although exhausted and bloodied, faces a foe whose private armies are as undisciplined as they are cruel.

Global Consequences

Russia’s use of mercenaries has emboldened similar tactics elsewhere. African regimes supported by Moscow have contracted former Wagner formations for domestic repression. In Libya and Syria, Russian mercenaries remain active. The model—military service in exchange for mineral concessions, political protection, and carte blanche to terrorise—has proved brutally effective.

Western states meanwhile face a dilemma. Their commitment to rule-based international order is undermined when mercenaries face no consequence for their atrocities. Legal instruments such as the UN Mercenary Convention are largely toothless. Prosecutions for war crimes committed by Russian PMCs have proven elusive due to jurisdictional gaps and Moscow’s defiance of international law.

A Return to the Pre-Modern?

In many respects the rise of mercenary warfare in Ukraine marks a return to the anarchic violence of pre-Westphalian Europe. Here war is no longer a monopoly of the state but a service outsourced to whoever can deliver results with the fewest political consequences. Russia has demonstrated how far a modern power can fall into the ethics of the Thirty Years’ War—where warlords, not statesmen, shape the fate of nations.

But Ukraine has also demonstrated the opposite: that discipline, command accountability and moral clarity remain indispensable weapons. In fighting against the mercenary tide she fights not just for her territory, but for the principle that war cannot be privatised, and that peace—when it comes—must be negotiated by sovereign nations, not sold by the highest bidder.