Aletho News


Satellite Imagery Shows Extensive Destruction Of Ukraine Power Grid

By Tyler Durden | Zero Hedge | November 27, 2022

It was only a matter of time. The recent Russian pull-back of troops clearly indicated a broad shift in tactics, and the one thing that the Kremlin avoided for several months seemed like the next most logical step – Full spectrum strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure.

Initially, Ukraine’s media spin suggested that the precision strikes were “ineffective”, with western news outlets showing only a handful of images of craters in streets and some scarred apartment buildings. There were limited admissions of damage to the power and water grids, but Ukraine claimed that these systems would be back and functional within days. This did not happen.

Not surprisingly, Ukraine suffered far more damage to their utilities than the government and media let on. Later estimates ranged from 60% to 80% of the nation’s grid destroyed or unusable and the latest satellite photos of active lights at night support this. Below, we can see lights across Ukraine on February 24th at the start of the war.

Next, we have an image taken from November 24th.

More than half the nation is in total darkness and the comparison to neighboring countries is stark. For the majority of the war Ukraine enjoyed near full use of their power grid, internet, water, gas, and other amenities, which is highly unusual during an invasion. The reasons for Vladimir Putin seeking to avoid damage to infrastructure are unknown, but public optics are the most likely explanation. With power resources nearly destroyed, the citizenry of Ukraine is facing a long cold winter with little to no relief in sight.

No doubt the media will portray this as a cold weather holocaust, though, elimination of infrastructure is usually the first measure of a large scale attack. It is standard operating procedure for the US military, for example. At this point, the coldest temperatures have yet to hit Ukraine, with average lows of 21°F (-6°C) in December. This kind of weather is not a problem with infrastructure intact, but with the grid down there will be chaos.

Water pipes will freeze and bust across major population centers, leaving only well water. The effects of the cold will be cumulative, and without heating and electric most other operations including economic operations will grind to a halt. Ukraine’s population will have gone from relative comfort to brutal survival in the span of a couple months.

The next most obvious outcome is a refugee crisis, with millions of people seeking shelter in neighboring countries in order to escape the cold. Though mainstream analysts are finally admitting to the grid problem, there is still very little coverage of the actual consequences we are about to witness. The assertions that Ukraine is “winning” the war are harder to sell while at the same time acknowledging the massive economic and humanitarian disaster that is escalating in the wake of supposed victory.

November 27, 2022 - Posted by | Aletho News | ,


  1. So, why are those entities in alliance with this Zelenskyy, allowing him to shun negotiations to seek something which will bring about a peace? Even if a peace accord will not give Zelenskyy what he says he ‘deserves’, et cetera.

    Otherwise, more money and arms, more warfare, more suffering. Of the first, what a huge amount of resources money which could be spent for Americans, other than enriching the arms industry, et cetera. For the second, well, the new warfare tactic of Russia is now obvious. The suffering will worsen, the exodus will continue and increase, for the Ukrainians and for the European countries and the sanctions, well, pretty obvious that Europe will suffer, German economy will shrink. For that one, how real is the purpose of the sanctions and sabotage of the pipeline to cripple Germany industry?

    Last, a question: qui bono? Besides the bankers, the armament industries, who always profit from war. And, not even Israel, if indeed, it looked upon the Ukraine as becoming ‘another Israel’. For, like what other than rubble will remain of Gaza, the West Bank, et al, if the Ukraine is ruined to rubble, even if it has resources, agricultural land?


    Comment by michael | November 27, 2022 | Reply

  2. 99% of Media had Ukraine wining the war. It was just like Covid.
    They were wrong about Covid and they are wrong about Russia.
    These sods came to mind & I thought of the poem, The Lady’s Dressing Room. It must come as a shock to them when they need to make a dump, that THEY like the poorest people on earth have to wipe their bum:

    The Lady’s Dressing Room, by Jonathon Swift
    Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
    By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
    The goddess from her chamber issues,
    Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tissues.

    Strephon, who found the room was void
    And Betty otherwise employed,
    Stole in and took a strict survey
    Of all the litter as it lay;
    Whereof, to make the matter clear,
    An inventory follows here.

    And first a dirty smock appeared,
    Beneath the arm-pits well besmeared.
    Strephon, the rogue, displayed it wide
    And turned it round on every side.
    On such a point few words are best,
    And Strephon bids us guess the rest;
    And swears how damnably the men lie
    In calling Celia sweet and cleanly.

    Now listen while he next produces
    The various combs for various uses,
    Filled up with dirt so closely fixt,
    No brush could force a way betwixt.

    A paste of composition rare,
    Sweat, dandruff, powder, lead and hair;
    A forehead cloth with oil upon’t
    To smooth the wrinkles on her front.

    Here alum flower to stop the steams
    Exhaled from sour unsavory streams;
    There night-gloves made of Tripsy’s hide,
    Bequeath’d by Tripsy when she died,
    With puppy water, beauty’s help,
    Distilled from Tripsy’s darling whelp;
    Here gallypots and vials placed,
    Some filled with washes, some with paste,
    Some with pomatum, paints and slops,
    And ointments good for scabby chops.

    Hard by a filthy basin stands,
    Fouled with the scouring of her hands;
    The basin takes whatever comes,
    The scrapings of her teeth and gums,
    A nasty compound of all hues,
    For here she spits, and here she spews.

    But oh! it turned poor Strephon’s bowels,
    When he beheld and smelt the towels,
    Begummed, besmattered, and beslimed
    With dirt, and sweat, and ear-wax grimed.

    No object Strephon’s eye escapes:
    Here petticoats in frowzy heaps;
    Nor be the handkerchiefs forgot
    All varnished o’er with snuff and snot.

    The stockings, why should I expose,
    Stained with the marks of stinking toes;
    Or greasy coifs and pinners reeking,
    Which Celia slept at least a week in?

    A pair of tweezers next he found
    To pluck her brows in arches round,
    Or hairs that sink the forehead low,
    Or on her chin like bristles grow.

    The virtues we must not let pass,
    Of Celia’s magnifying glass.
    When frighted Strephon cast his eye on’t
    It shewed the visage of a giant.
    A glass that can to sight disclose
    The smallest worm in Celia’s nose,
    And faithfully direct her nail
    To squeeze it out from head to tail;
    (For catch it nicely by the head,
    It must come out alive or dead.)

    Why Strephon will you tell the rest?
    And must you needs describe the chest?
    That careless wench! no creature warn her
    To move it out from yonder corner;
    But leave it standing full in sight
    For you to exercise your spite.

    In vain, the workman shewed his wit
    With rings and hinges counterfeit
    To make it seem in this disguise
    A cabinet to vulgar eyes;
    For Strephon ventured to look in,
    Resolved to go through thick and thin;
    He lifts the lid, there needs no more:
    He smelt it all the time before.

    As from within Pandora’s box,
    When Epimetheus oped the locks,
    A sudden universal crew
    Of humane evils upwards flew,
    He still was comforted to find
    That Hope at last remained behind;
    So Strephon lifting up the lid
    To view what in the chest was hid,
    The vapours flew from out the vent.
    But Strephon cautious never meant
    The bottom of the pan to grope
    And foul his hands in search of Hope.

    O never may such vile machine
    Be once in Celia’s chamber seen!
    O may she better learn to keep
    “Those secrets of the hoary deep”!
    As mutton cutlets, prime of meat,
    Which, though with art you salt and beat
    As laws of cookery require
    And toast them at the clearest fire,
    If from adown the hopeful chops
    The fat upon the cinder drops,
    To stinking smoke it turns the flame
    Poisoning the flesh from whence it came;
    And up exhales a greasy stench
    For which you curse the careless wench;
    So things which must not be exprest,
    When plumpt into the reeking chest,
    Send up an excremental smell
    To taint the parts from whence they fell,
    The petticoats and gown perfume,
    Which waft a stink round every room.

    Thus finishing his grand survey,
    Disgusted Strephon stole away
    Repeating in his amorous fits,
    Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!
    But vengeance, Goddess never sleeping,
    Soon punished Strephon for his peeping:
    His foul Imagination links
    Each dame he see with all her stinks;
    And, if unsavory odors fly,
    Conceives a lady standing by.
    All women his description fits,
    And both ideas jump like wits
    By vicious fancy coupled fast,
    And still appearing in contrast.

    I pity wretched Strephon blind
    To all the charms of female kind.
    Should I the Queen of Love refuse
    Because she rose from stinking ooze?
    To him that looks behind the scene
    Satira’s but some pocky queen.

    When Celia in her glory shows,
    If Strephon would but stop his nose
    (Who now so impiously blasphemes
    Her ointments, daubs, and paints and creams,
    Her washes, slops, and every clout
    With which he makes so foul a rout),
    He soon would learn to think like me
    And bless his ravished sight to see
    Such order from confusion sprung,
    Such gaudy tulips raised from dung.


    Comment by Pip | November 27, 2022 | Reply

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