‘DIY Warfare’: How Russia Crowdsources the Battlefield in Ukraine

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On April 15, 2025, Russia’s RIA Novosti released footage of a drone strike on a Ukrainian position in Chasiv Yar. The grainy video was notable not so much for the remote piloting involved than for the unconventional network enabling it. At the center of the operation was Orbita, an advanced communications and targeting system designed not by a state contractor but by the so-called Center for Unmanned Systems and Technologies, a startup founded in 2024 to produce dual-use equipment. Meanwhile, the strike platform, a first-person-view (FPV) Ovod drone, was made by volunteers in Tula. Its design, testing, and mass production were underwritten by crowdfunding campaigns coordinated via Telegram channels, which link civilian inventors directly with frontline units.

In another departure from convention, the drone was flown not by a trained military pilot but by a civilian operator with minimal flight experience. The strike was planned and executed by the 88^th Volunteer Brigade “Española,” a paramilitary formation staffed by what the Global Network on Extremism and Technology calls “football hooligans.” Within hours, pressure from Russia’s influential prowar military bloggers, known as voenkory, prompted RIA Novosti to remove the video, highlighting the influence of informal networks in shaping decisions around operations and reporting on them.

The strike is an example of what I term “DIY warfare”—when private individuals, non-state organizations, and ad hoc groups exploit accessible technology, improvised tactics, and decentralized coordination to wage war alongside traditional military hierarchies, logistics chains, and command structures. The war in Ukraine has accelerated the spread and evolution of DIY warfare, particularly through the widespread use of low-cost drones and decentralized coordination of their procurement and deployment.

This analysis examines such practices of DIY warfare in Ukraine, focusing on civilian-led innovation, crowdsourced logistics, irregular participation, and the strategic and operational disruption driven by these groups. I conclude by discussing the implications of this parallel, civilian-led warfare for military decisions and policies.

Civilian-Led Battlefield Innovation

Low-cost commercial drones repurposed for surveillance, precision strikes, and logistical support have reshaped military operations in Ukraine. Now, additive manufacturing, particularly 3D printing, is revolutionizing how these drones are produced and deployed. Ukraine has led this transformation with initiatives like Wild Hornets, a volunteer group that developed and mass-produced the Queen Hornet, a heavy FPV bomber drone, and the Sting, an antiair FPV drone. Another standout is DrukArmy (“Print Army”), a decentralized network of thousands of consumer-grade 3D printers across Ukraine that produces drone components and other battlefield supplies.

Although Moscow lacks a grassroots equivalent to Wild Hornets, groups like the Kulibin Club, linked to the pro-Kremlin All-Russia People’s Front, have supported development of drone and electronic warfare on the Russian side. The club identifies promising domestic engineering projects for serial production. It is associated with systems like the Kasatka (“Killer Whale”), a multifunctional platform for signal relay and autonomous operations, and contributed to the development of the Q-10 drone, which incorporates artificial intelligence to enhance the system’s responsiveness to operator commands and energy efficiency.

Smaller Russian initiatives have emerged, as well. For example, a start-up founded by IT enthusiasts, some with combat experience, repurposed commercial filming drones into battlefield-ready platforms like the Ovod. Meanwhile, the Dva Mayora (“Two Majors”) project has connected drone developers and volunteers, facilitating the flow of supplies, weapons, and innovative technical solutions to the front lines. Entirely funded by online donations, this hybrid media-volunteer platform combines influence operations with civilian mobilization. It operates several workshops that have produced and distributed the Raketa, a drone interceptor designed to strike Ukrainian aircraft and large drones.

Beyond drones, civilian innovators in Russia have developed electric-powered tracked vehicles for transporting cargo and personnel, portable and vehicle-mounted radios for battlefield communication, and AI-driven software systems. The latter rapidly analyze drone footage and enhance decision-making around targeting, underpinning much of the technological edge on both sides.

Crowdsourced Logistics 

In response to Russia’s full-scale invasion, Ukraine has pioneered large-scale war-related crowdfunding, integrating platforms set up by the government, nongovernmental actors, and international online communities. These efforts have resulted in hundreds of millions of dollars in cash and cryptocurrency raised, along with vital military and humanitarian aid. Ukraine has thus managed to deliver a wide range of supplies to its armed forces, including drones, night-vision equipment, commercial satellite imagery, and medical kits. 

On the Russian side, a sprawling patchwork of individuals, organizations, and informal networks have turned to online fundraising to provide military and tactical equipment and care for the wounded, albeit on a smaller scale. In the early stages of the war, many Russians relied on loosely regulated cryptocurrency exchanges to channel donations meant to go to the war effort. According to analyses by cryptocurrency-tracing firms, more than $4 million worth of cryptocurrency donations was collected by private groups supporting Russia’s war effort in Ukraine during the first two months of the war.  

Russia’s growing community of prowar voenkory (military bloggers) have also leveraged their large followings, often numbering in the hundreds of thousands or even millions of social-media channel subscribers, to solicit donations for procuring military equipment, including drones, radios, rifle accessories, and night goggles, as well as body armor and personal and medical supplies. Some voenkory have monetized their platforms by offering subscriptions to “exclusive” (often violent) content, advertising, and selling “Z merch,” with part of the proceeds going to support the Russian war effort.

Russian Telegram channels have publicly reported the results of some fundraising campaigns (see Table 1), claiming to have successfully delivered body armor, weapons, ammunition, drones, and personal supplies to frontline units. Subsequent battlefield footage and reports further suggest that some of this equipment has been directly deployed against Ukrainian forces. 

Table 1. Select examples of crowdfunding by Russian non-state actors

Source: Author

Irregular Participation 

The war in Ukraine has set a modern precedent for civilian involvement in military-style operations. Civilian volunteers have engaged in reconnaissance with drones, logistical support, intelligence-gathering, cyberattacks, and, at times, direct combat. In response to Russia’s full-scale invasion, Ukraine integrated its civilian population into territorial defense forces, while civilians in occupied territories or near shifting front lines have carried out partisan warfare and relayed intelligence through social media and encrypted messaging platforms.   

On the Russian side, the depletion of regular forces has fueled the rise of irregular formations. Volunteer battalions, penal assault units, militias funded by Russian provinces, and quasi-private military companies emerged to fill gaps left by battlefield attrition. Operating outside the Ministry of Defense’s formal structure, these groups often draw on veterans of Russia’s wars in Chechnya, Georgia, and the Donbas, as well as civilians unfit for standard service. Lacking the rights, protections, and logistical support afforded to regular troops, these irregular units often fund, recruit, and train independently, bypassing official channels.

One illustrative example is Española, the self-styled 88th Reconnaissance and Sabotage Unit, which carried out the April 2025 drone strike in Chasiv Yar. Born from Telegram networks promoting football tournaments and community events in occupied Ukrainian territories, the group is now combining humanitarian initiatives with combat operations. Its propaganda targets hooligan subcultures more interested in glory and notoriety than loyalty to the Kremlin. The leader, known as Spaniard, underscored this independence on state television: “Everything we have is bought with fans’ money. We don’t get any money from the state, or from oligarchs.” Like many irregular formations, Española depends on volunteers and crowdfunding for both combat and noncombat needs.

Russian civilian participation extends beyond these formations. Drone hobbyists and amateur photographers have become frontline reconnaissance operators, repurposing commercially available drones to spot Ukrainian positions and adjust artillery fire. These operators often stream real-time videos and coordinates via popular apps such as WhatsApp. Human Rights Watch has documented such practices in Kherson and elsewhere, including so-called “human safari” strikes in which volunteer operators guide quadcopters to carry out lethal attacks on civilians.

The overlap between civilian life and military production is equally stark. At the Yelabuga drone factory in Tatarstan, students as young as 15 years old have reportedly been assembling Geran-2 suicide drones. Meanwhile, the Kremlin-backed Berloga video game, marketed as part of a “cyber-physical” series of gaming competitions, has recruited hundreds of thousands of schoolchildren into drone clubs that blend hobbyist training with preparation for careers in the defense industry.

Strategic Disruption 

Activists operating in the digital domain can also affect the operational environment by influencing command decisions. Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, voenkory have emerged as the de facto fourth estate, providing frontline updates, shaping narratives, and influencing public perception. Their reach has extended into Russia’s officer corps. By publicly exposing incompetence, corruption, and tactical blunders, often through blunt, viral posts, these digital actors have eroded confidence in senior military leadership and helped catalyze high-level purges.

In late 2022, as Russian forces took heavy losses fighting for control of Vuhledar, a city in Donetsk Region, voenkory directed fierce criticism at Colonel Sukhrab Akhmedov, then commander of the 155^th Guards Naval Infantry Brigade, for deploying poorly supported units into high-casualty engagements for little tactical gain. Initially, the Russian military leadership, dismissing these claims, chose to promote Akhmedov to major general and give him command of the 20^th Guards Combined Arms Army. Within weeks, Akhmedov had earned the nickname “Butcher” for a series of reckless decisions, including assembling troops in an area under active Ukrainian reconnaissance to deliver a public address. This action resulted in a devastating HIMARS strike that killed or wounded hundreds of Russian soldiers. The incident intensified voenkory calls for Akhmedov’s removal, and in November 2024 newly appointed Defense Minister Andrei Belousov dismissed the general. Reports framed Akhmedov’s dismissal as a move to protect the lives of Russian soldiers, echoing voenkory complaints.

General Dmitri Bulgakov, responsible for logistics and supply, was dismissed from his post in September 2022, at the start of Russia’s partial mobilization. His removal was widely seen as an attempt to appease prowar voenkory who had relentlessly criticized the Ministry of Defense’s logistical failures. In summer 2024, Bulgakov was formally charged with corruption and arrested, an outcome celebrated by his online critics. The quiet dismissal of another Russian general—Gennady Anashkin, the acting commander of the Southern Military District—also followed widespread voenkory accusations that Anashkin’s subordinates submitted false frontline progress reports to cover the stalled advance of Russian troops near Siversk in eastern Donetsk.

These are not isolated cases: Multiple other prominent Russian generals, including Alexander Lapin, Mikhail Mizintsev, and Sergei Kisel, have been reassigned or dismissed under mounting pressure from the voenkory community. Even former Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu, a frequent target of scathing online attacks, was rumored to have been on the verge of being removed, but the decision ended up being postponed because of Prigozhin’s mutiny.

The growing influence of this civilian group was underscored when Belousov, shortly after being named defense minister, met directly with leading voenkory. Some commentators described this as the start of a “new era” of engagement, praising the move and calling for institutionalized communication channels between the Ministry of Defense and the digital warfighting community.

Implications of DIY Warfare

DIY warfare broadens the range of actors, networks, and technologies that can influence battlefield outcomes. On the one hand, it can initially enhance combat power through innovation, de-bureaucratization, crowdfunding, and grassroots logistics. On the other hand, it also brings decentralization and fragmentation into procurement processes. These dynamics can undermine interoperability across disparate systems, hinder the concentration of investment in the most promising technologies, and even drive corruption at the level of individual units.

Ukraine’s model of “innovative and unconventional” warfare has already reignited Western interest in total defense. European governments are looking to draw lessons from Ukraine’s effective integration of military and civilian components, including actors both within and outside of formal military structures. However, by blurring the line between combatants and noncombatants, DIY warfare complicates the practical conduct of operations and the application of international humanitarian law. Civilian technologists, volunteer logisticians, ad hoc drone operators, and even individuals forwarding raw reconnaissance data can all cross into “direct participation in hostilities.”  Governments pursuing a total defense strategy in the age of hyperconnectivity must seriously confront the implications of encouraging civilians to engage in digital warfare. At a minimum, they must ensure that civilians are clearly informed of the legal and ethical risks involved. For military planners, this shift raises the burden of positive identification in targeting, heightens legal risk, and increases the chance of collateral damage.

The DIY networks will not dissolve with a ceasefire in Ukraine. As seen with the Kamajors militia in Sierra Leone, post-Gaddafi militias in Libya, the Kosovo Liberation Army in the Balkans, and Taliban networks in Afghanistan, irregular and volunteer formations frequently survive beyond the battlefield, destabilizing fragile postwar orders as criminal actors, entrenched power brokers, and insurgents. If Western peace forces are deployed in Ukraine under a ceasefire, irregular formations may target them, widening the conflict through accidental or engineered escalation. Peace-support operations should, therefore, establish clear tripwire and attribution mechanisms and maintain hardened postures against unmanned aerial systems and electronic warfare. Without these measures, peacekeepers may find themselves vulnerable to unexpected threats and drawn into renewed conflict.

Decentralized decision-making has created its own hazards in Russia. Volunteer brigades, influential voenkory, and local tech groups can shape tactics and procurement outside of the formal chain of command. This fragmented approach fuels operational security breaches, duplicative research, uneven equipment quality, and the use of improvised munitions that increase risks to civilians. Such gaps also create exploitable opportunities. Information operations can magnify the mistrust and rivalry between volunteer groups, regional authorities, and the Ministry of Defense, further eroding coherence. Electronic warfare can target the poorly shielded communications and improvised command systems that these groups rely on, neutralizing their battlefield effectiveness.

The DIY model also complicates export-control regimes. Drones built with 3D-printed components circumvent traditional arms-control systems and sanctions regimes. These micro-supply chains are resilient, mobile, and difficult to police. For future policy to be effective, it must move beyond platform bans toward component-level governance, while balancing regulation of high-risk maker spaces—workshops, labs, and community fabrication spaces that have tools and skills to produce dual-use or military-applicable technology—against the need to avoid stifling legitimate innovation.

Dr. Mariya Y. Omelicheva is a professor of strategy at the National Defense University with expertise in geopolitics, Russia’s foreign and security policy, regional security cooperation, and the crime-terror nexus in Eurasia.

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