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He had it all: power, prestige, respect, guns and butter. He had a seat at the table. For want of dirt, he threw it all away.

It’s no ordinary dirt. It’s dirt void of everything except landmines. A wasteland of destroyed structures and settlements. It’s dirt richly soaked in blood.

It’s expensive dirt. In a few short years, more than 100k Russian men have died, 900k have been injured. High interest rates, high inflation and crippling sanctions are destroying the Russian economy. Guns but no potatoes. His dirt has sparked a new world arms race that cannot be won. His dirt has ensured hatred and mistrust for a generation.

It’s the dirt of his young dogma: conquer all, victory at any cost and no value to human life. A dogma stiffened by the Berlin wall cascade. He craved glory in Ukraine. It destroyed his legacy. A warrant for war crimes awaits.

Only Icarus fell faster.
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