Russia deploys Iranian Shahed-136 'kamikaze' drones against Ukraine with deadly effect

Multiple Ukrainian civilians and military personnel killed in Shahed-136 strikes on civilian structures and command posts in Odesa and surrounding regions.
Cheap to build, hard to stop, and arriving faster than they can be shot down
The strategic advantage of Iranian loitering munitions in Russia's campaign against Ukraine's air defenses.

In the autumn of 2022, the war in Ukraine entered a new register — one in which the logic of attrition gave way to the logic of proliferation. Russia, its conventional air power diminished by months of conflict, turned to Iranian-made Shahed-136 loitering munitions to sustain its campaign of long-range strikes against Ukrainian military and civilian targets in the south. The deployment marked not only a deepening of the Iran-Russia strategic relationship, but a broader shift in how modern states wage war when their expensive assets run low: cheaply, remotely, and in volume.

  • Russian forces struck a Ukrainian command post in Odesa with Iranian Shahed-136 'suicide drones' — a weapon Ukraine had not faced at this scale before, killing multiple civilians and military personnel across southern Ukraine.
  • The frequency of attacks was alarming enough that regional military spokesmen were posting real-time updates to Telegram, and President Zelenskyy convened emergency advisors to address what had become a new front in the air war.
  • Ukraine's air defenses responded with documented kills — nine aerial targets in a single day on September 23, including six Shahed-136s — but the drones were arriving faster than they could be neutralized.
  • The Shahed-136's vulnerabilities are real: its commercial GPS navigation can be jammed, its warhead is small, and its slow speed makes it blind to moving targets — but its low cost and 2,200km range make it a sustainable tool for a military bleeding aircraft.
  • Russia has now found a way to maintain long-range strike pressure without risking pilots or expensive jets, raising the urgent question of whether Ukraine's air defense architecture can scale fast enough to absorb a sustained drone campaign.

On September 26, Russian forces struck a Ukrainian command post in Odesa using a weapon that had only recently entered the conflict in sustained numbers: the Shahed-136, an Iranian-made loitering munition that dives into its target and detonates. Over the preceding days, the drones had hit military and civilian sites across southern Ukraine, killing several people and prompting President Zelenskyy to convene advisors to formulate a response.

Ukraine's air defenses were already working. On September 23, anti-aircraft units destroyed nine aerial targets in a single day — six of them Shahed-136s — and further kills were reported on September 24 and 25 in Mykolayiv and elsewhere. The numbers pointed to a coordinated campaign, not opportunistic strikes.

The drones had arrived in Russia by late August, part of a reported Iranian transfer of hundreds of unmanned systems including the Shahed series and the Mohajer-6. Built by Iran's Aircraft Manufacturing Industrial Company, the Shahed-136 has a range of 2,200 kilometers, making deep strikes possible. It is slow, propeller-driven, and carries a modest warhead of five to thirty kilograms — enough to damage fixed infrastructure, but not a substitute for conventional bombs. Analysts noted its particular utility for striking radar installations and stationary targets at low cost.

Yet the drone carries real weaknesses. Its guidance depends on commercial GPS, making it vulnerable to jamming. Its small payload limits the destruction it can cause. And its slow, low flight profile offers no speed advantage and little protection against air defense systems. What it offers instead is economy and range — and Russia now has hundreds of them.

The strategic calculus was becoming clear: as Russia's manned aircraft fleet eroded through attrition, Iranian drones offered a way to sustain long-range pressure without risking pilots or expensive jets. For Ukraine, the challenge was no longer simply defending against a conventional air campaign, but scaling its defenses to absorb a cheaper, more expendable, and potentially inexhaustible threat from above.

On September 26, Russian forces struck a Ukrainian command post in the port city of Odesa with a weapon Ukraine had not faced before in sustained numbers: an Iranian-made drone designed to dive into its target and detonate. Over the preceding days, these machines had hit multiple locations across southern Ukraine—military installations and civilian buildings alike—leaving several Ukrainians dead. The weapon had a name that reflected its function: the Shahed-136, a loitering munition, though most called it simply a suicide drone.

By Monday, September 26, the attacks were frequent enough that Sergey Bratchuk, spokesman for the Odesa regional military administration, felt compelled to post updates on his Telegram channel. He noted that after the previous night's barrage of Shahed-136 strikes, the early morning hours had passed without further shelling—a small mercy. The frequency and novelty of the attacks prompted Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelenskyy to convene his advisors that same day to strategize a response to this new dimension of Russian firepower.

Ukraine's air defense was already engaged. On September 23, anti-aircraft units destroyed nine aerial targets in a single day, including six Shahed-136 drones, one Mohajer-6 drone (another Iranian system), one Mi-8 helicopter, and one Su-25 fighter jet. Two days later, the Ukrainian Air Force reported destroying six more Shahed-136s and another Mohajer-6. In Mykolayiv, a southern city, naval air defense units claimed three more kills on the morning of September 24. The numbers suggested a coordinated campaign, not isolated strikes.

The drones themselves were a relatively recent addition to Russia's arsenal. In July, reports had surfaced that Iran was supplying hundreds of unmanned aerial vehicles to Russia, including the Shahed series and Mohajer-6 models. The machines arrived in Russia by late August and were now operational on the battlefield. This was not Iran's first venture into drone proliferation. Hezbollah, the Lebanese militant group, had long possessed Iranian drones, including the Shahed-129, which the organization had used against al-Nusra forces in Syria in 2014. But this was the first time the Shahed-136 was being deployed at scale in a major interstate conflict.

The drone itself was a hybrid creature—part unmanned aircraft, part cruise missile. Built by Iran's Aircraft Manufacturing Industrial Company, it had a range of 2,200 kilometers, allowing strikes deep into Ukrainian territory. It was slow and low-flying, powered by a propeller, and it attacked by crashing into its target while carrying explosives. The warhead capacity was modest, typically between five and thirty kilograms, limiting the damage it could inflict compared to conventional bombs or artillery. Justin Bronk, a senior fellow at the Royal United Services Institute in London, noted that the Shahed-136 offered states and non-state actors a relatively inexpensive way to mount long-range attacks on fixed targets, using GPS and inertial navigation systems to find radar installations or stationary infrastructure.

But the drone had significant vulnerabilities. Its navigation and terminal accuracy depended entirely on commercial GPS systems. If Ukraine could jam, block, or disable that signal, both functions would degrade rapidly. Its small warhead limited the targets it could effectively strike. And because it was slow and low-flying, it lacked the speed to serve as a quick counterstrike weapon on a fluid battlefield. It could not pursue moving targets. It had minimal defenses against anti-aircraft systems. In short, the Shahed-136 was not a replacement for Russia's diminishing fleet of manned aircraft—but it was cheap, it could fly far, and Russia now had access to hundreds of them.

Ukraine faced a new kind of asymmetric pressure. The drones were arriving faster than they could be shot down, and their low cost meant Russia could sustain losses and continue operations. As Russia's conventional air power eroded through attrition, these Iranian machines offered a way to maintain long-range strike capability without risking pilots or expensive jets. The question now was whether Ukraine's air defenses could scale to meet the threat, or whether Russia had found a way to circumvent the very advantage Ukraine had been building in the skies.

The Shahed-136 offers a relatively cheap way for states and non-state groups to mount long-range attacks on fixed targets using GPS navigation or anti-radiation seekers
— Justin Bronk, Royal United Services Institute
After the previous night's enemy attack by kamikaze drones of the Shahed-136 type, the dark time of the day passed without shelling
— Sergey Bratchuk, Odesa regional military spokesman
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Inventor

Why did Russia turn to Iranian drones specifically? Couldn't they manufacture their own?

Model

Russia has been losing aircraft at a steep rate. Manned jets are expensive, pilots are irreplaceable, and Ukraine's air defenses have gotten very good at shooting them down. The Shahed-136 costs a fraction of what a fighter jet costs, and you don't lose a trained pilot when one gets shot down. Iran had them ready to send.

Inventor

So this is about economics as much as military strategy?

Model

Exactly. Bronk makes the point that these drones offer a cheap way to hit fixed targets from far away. For Russia, which is burning through its military budget, that's attractive. But it's also a sign of desperation—they're turning to foreign suppliers because their own production can't keep up with their losses.

Inventor

The drones seem fragile, though. GPS jamming, small warheads, slow speed. Why are they effective?

Model

They're effective precisely because they're numerous and cheap. Ukraine can't shoot down every single one. And they don't need to be precise or powerful—they just need to hit enough targets often enough to degrade Ukrainian infrastructure and kill enough people to wear down morale. It's a grinding strategy.

Inventor

What happens if Ukraine figures out how to jam the GPS?

Model

Then the drones become nearly useless. But that's a technical problem that takes time to solve at scale. In the meantime, Russia keeps sending them, and Ukraine keeps losing people and infrastructure. The asymmetry works in Russia's favor right now.

Inventor

Is this a preview of how future wars will be fought?

Model

It might be. Drones are cheaper than conventional weapons, they can be produced in volume, and they can be supplied across borders without the political cost of sending troops. Iran proved it can do this. Other countries are watching. This could become the new normal.

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