ORENBURG REGION, RUSSIA — The sky above the Kazakh-Russian border did not herald the dawn of a new era of strategic dominance, as the Kremlin had promised. Instead, on November 28, 2025, it filled with the toxic, maroon haze of catastrophic industrial failure.

The RS-28 Sarmat, the intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) heralded by President Vladimir Putin as the crown jewel of Russia’s nuclear modernization, had not just failed; it had humiliated its architects.

For years, Western intelligence agencies and defense analysts have monitored the development of the Sarmat—known colloquially in NATO circles as "Satan II"—with a mixture of concern and skepticism. The events of late November at the Dombarovsky Air Force Base have decisively shifted that calculus toward the latter.

According to open-source intelligence and satellite imagery verified by Planet Labs, the missile struggled to achieve lift. Its engines choked before the massive projectile plummeted back to earth, detonating in a fireball that scorched the steppe and shattered the illusion of Russian technological infallibility.

This was not merely a botched test flight; it was a symptom of a much deeper pathology afflicting the Russian military-industrial complex. As the dust settles and the toxic clouds of nitrogen tetroxide disperse, a stark reality is emerging: the gap between Moscow’s geopolitical ambitions and its technical competencies has become a chasm.

The Anatomy of a Pyrotechnic Disaster

The sequence of events on November 28 offers a forensic insight into the state of Russian aerospace engineering. Video footage circulating on encrypted channels, later corroborated by geolocation experts, depicts a launch that went wrong almost immediately.

The missile, weighing over 200 tons, failed to stabilize. Witnesses near the exclusion zone captured the terrifying sound of the engines cutting out, followed by the earth-shaking impact.

Technical analysis suggests a specific, critical point of failure. Defense experts examining the telemetry and visual evidence point to a malfunction in the block of acceleration sensors along the rocket’s axes.

In the unforgiving physics of ballistic rocketry, such a failure triggers an automatic emergency shutdown of the engines. The rocket, deprived of thrust but laden with fuel, becomes a falling bomb.

The maroon clouds visible in the footage are the smoking gun. They indicate the presence of nitrogen tetroxide, or 'amyl,' a highly toxic, corrosive oxidizer. Its presence betrays a reliance on volatile, legacy chemical propulsion methods rather than the stable solid-fuel systems preferred by modern strategic forces.

The aftermath, captured by Planet Labs satellites the following Saturday, showed a massive crater and extensive scorch marks at the launch silo. This visual evidence contradicts the Kremlin’s narrative of steady progress, painting instead a picture of a program in disarray.

The Timeline of Broken Promises

To understand the gravity of this failure, one must rewind to March 1, 2018. In a bellicose address to the Federal Assembly, President Putin unveiled a suite of "invincible" weapons, including the Sarmat.

With characteristic bravado, he claimed the missile would render Western missile defense systems "completely useless" and possessed capabilities with "no analogue" in the world.

The gap between rhetoric and reality has been widening ever since. The program has been plagued by a chronicle of delays that would be comical if the stakes were not existential.

• 2018: Putin announces the missile will "soon enter service."
• 2022: Following a singular successful test at Plesetsk, deployment is promised by year's end. It never happens.
• 2024: The timeline shifts again, with promises of "trial combat duty."
• November 5, 2025: Less than a month before the crash, Putin explicitly states, "This year, intercontinental ballistic missiles Sarmat will be put on trial combat duty," pushing full deployment to 2026.

The disaster at Dombarovsky renders the 2026 target not just ambitious, but delusional. A strategic delivery system cannot be rushed into service when its fundamental guidance and propulsion systems are proving unreliable.

As noted by Sergey Ivashchenko, a UK-based analyst specializing in aerospace systems architecture, the incident exposes "the collapse of illusions about technological superiority."

Industrial Atrophy and the "Amyl" Problem

The technical specifics of the crash reveal a broader story about the degradation of Russia’s scientific base. The reliance on liquid fuel—specifically the toxic "amyl" that created the purple clouds over Orenburg—speaks to a stagnation in propulsion technology.

While liquid-fueled rockets offer high thrust, they are dangerous to maintain and handle, representing a lineage of rocketry that dates back to the Cold War.

This reliance on legacy technology, dressed up as next-generation innovation, suggests that the Russian defense sector is struggling to innovate under the crushing weight of sanctions and brain drain.

The failure of the acceleration sensors—precision components that require high-grade electronics—hints at the efficacy of Western technology export controls. Russia is attempting to build 21st-century weapons with a supply chain that has been severed from global innovation hubs.

The Sarmat is not the only victim of this systemic rot. It joins the 9M730 Burevestnik, the nuclear-powered cruise missile also announced in 2018, in a category of "doomsday weapons" that seem more effective at generating headlines than successful test data.

The disconnect between the Kremlin's propaganda machine, which churns out animations of cities being vaporized, and the engineering reality on the ground is becoming impossible to ignore.

Geopolitical Implications: The Paper Tiger

For NATO and the United States, the failed test is a significant data point in the ongoing assessment of Russian strategic deterrence. While Russia remains a potent nuclear power by sheer volume of warheads, the reliability of its delivery systems is now under intense scrutiny.

A deterrent is only effective if the adversary believes it will work. The Sarmat program, intended to terrify, is instead generating doubt.

The failure also undermines Putin’s domestic standing. The "strongman" image is predicated on the projection of power. When the premier symbol of that power crashes and burns in a toxic cloud, it invites questions about what else in the state apparatus is hollowed out.

The "weapon of mass embarrassment," as some observers have darkly quipped, serves as a metaphor for a regime that prioritizes announcement over achievement.

Conclusion: The Danger of Desperation

However, Western policymakers should be wary of deriving comfort from Russia’s technical incompetence. A nuclear power with a failing modernization program is not necessarily less dangerous; it may be more volatile.

As the conventional war in Ukraine drags on and strategic weapons fail testing, the Kremlin’s options for projecting power narrow.

The Sarmat was supposed to be the ultimate trump card, a weapon to force the West to the negotiating table on Moscow’s terms. With that card now revealed to be a bluff—at least for the immediate future—the dynamic of global security shifts yet again.

The world is witnessing the slow-motion erosion of a superpower’s legacy, played out in fire and smoke on the steppes of Orenburg.