Vladimir Putin was urged on Russian state television in Moscow this week to copy US president Donald Trump by issuing Ukraine with a 48‑hour nuclear ultimatum, as prominent propagandists openly discussed 'wiping cities off the face of the earth' in footage broadcast to millions.
The news came after a series of battlefield reversals and public grumbling in Russia over Vladimir Putin's failure to subdue Ukraine using conventional forces, missiles and drones more than two years into the full‑scale invasion. With Kyiv still standing and Ukraine launching strikes deep inside Russian territory, the tone on Kremlin‑controlled channels has shifted from triumphalism to something more agitated, and in some cases, more openly extreme.
On one of the flagship political talk shows, pundits even baptised themselves the 'Nuclear Maniacs Club.' It was not an insult from critics, but a self‑assigned badge worn on air. There, retired air defence colonel Mikhail Khodarenok conceded that the war, as currently fought, is not delivering what the Kremlin promised.
Khodarenok told viewers that 'Putin's strategy over four years of war is not bringing success,' before floating the prospect of a nuclear shortcut to victory. Referencing Trump's past threat to Iran, he suggested Moscow should borrow the format but replace conventional retaliation with the threat of atomic weapons.
'The Ukrainian leadership will be faced with the question of whether the country will be left in complete ruins, or we move to some kind of peace agreement,' he said, framing total devastation as one option on the table. In his account, the problem is simple, 'The task isn't solvable with conventional weapons, the ones we have, so perhaps we should switch to special [nuclear] weapons and end this conflict within ten days, by 1 May?'
'Nuclear Maniacs Club' Pushes Vladimir Putin Towards 'Special Weapons'
The main propagandist hosting the show, Vladimir Solovyov, greeted the suggestion with evident satisfaction.
'Welcome to our Nuclear Maniacs Club,' he replied, reminding viewers that he had 'been calling for this for a long time.' Far from moderating Khodarenok, Solovyov egged him on, turning the broadcast into a rolling advert for Vladimir Putin to discard restraint.
Khodarenok, once considered a comparatively sober military analyst on Russian TV, made it clear he no longer believed in gradual escalation. Caution, he implied, belongs to another phase of the war. He painted a picture of Ukraine's leadership, including President Volodymyr Zelensky, sheltering 'in underground bunkers, located at considerable depths,' and then asked aloud how they could be reached 'except with special weapons.'
The language was chillingly clinical. Nuclear use, he argued, 'should not be considered an out‑of‑the‑ordinary occurrence' anymore. The conflict, he said, 'must be ended, ended as quickly as possible,' and in his telling, detonating 'special weapons' could somehow 'save tens of thousands of lives' and 'protect our country's infrastructure from attacks.'
The logic is familiar in nuclear strategy debates, but hearing it deployed so casually on state television, by people who insist they 'don't care' about the international reaction, underscores how far parts of the Russian media ecosystem have drifted from any pretence of responsible rhetoric.
It is also, in practice, still rhetoric. There is no evidence in the material provided that the Kremlin has adopted such a policy, and nothing is confirmed yet, so everything should be taken with a grain of salt.
Trump‑Style Nuclear Ultimatum To Ukraine Floated On Air
The 'Nuclear Maniacs Club' went further than abstract talk. They sketched out a scenario in which Vladimir Putin would present Ukrainians with a Trump‑style ultimatum, but with nuclear stakes: accept a Moscow‑dictated peace, or face strikes within two days.
Under this imagined script, citizens in key cities would be told to flee ahead of time. Solovyov listed Kyiv, Odesa, Mykolaiv and Kharkiv and issued an on‑air warning: 'Citizens living in Kyiv, Odesa, Mykolaiv, and Kharkiv, leave your cities immediately. They will be wiped off the face of the earth.' It was theatre, but theatre aimed at normalising the idea that threatening to annihilate millions of civilians is a negotiator's tool.
No official statement from the Kremlin, the Russian defence ministry or Vladimir Putin himself was included in the material to corroborate or distance the leadership from these remarks. That absence matters.
Russian state TV operates under tight political control, but its hosts also compete for attention and influence, pushing ever more extreme lines to stand out. How closely these on‑air fantasies match real policy thinking inside the Kremlin remains opaque.
What is clear is that Ukraine, already living with near‑daily missile and drone attacks, is now also being used as the backdrop for open nuclear sabre‑rattling beamed into Russian homes.
For Ukrainians watching clips of Solovyov and Khodarenok circulate online, the message is hardly subtle: people they regard as Vladimir Putin's mouthpieces are talking in cold blood about 'wiping Ukrainian cities off the face of the earth' and treating that prospect as a bargaining chip.
