Aircraft carriers have for a long time been perceived as the zenith of naval strength by major powers — essentially mobile airbases that can enforce their will far beyond their homeland. In the late 1980s, the Soviet Union had a daring idea to become a member of that exclusive set with the Ulyanovsk supercarrier project. The motivation behind leaving the project to build such a vessel was nothing less than the pride of an empire, coupled with the ambition to compete against the largest fleets of the world. However, it ended up as one of the great “what-ifs” of history, known more for what it could have been rather than what it was.
The birth of the Ulyanovsk project, officially known as Project 1143.7, dates back to 1988 when building started at the Mykolaiv shipyard. While the Kuznetsov relied heavily on the takeoff assistance from a ski-jump ramp, the Ulyanovsk was equipped with steam catapults and hence it was capable of launching the heaviest-loaded aircraft on board, just like the American carriers.
In terms of carrier tonnage, Ulyanovsk was planned to be almost as great as that of the largest carriers, with a displacement figure of almost 80,000 metric tons and a length of 324 meters. Four nuclear reactors powering four turbines promised speeds up to 30 knots and near-unlimited range, limited only by the endurance of its crew.
The airfield was intended to accommodate a total of approximately 70 aircraft, including Su-33 fighters, Yak-44 airborne early-warning planes, and Ka-27 helicopters. Besides its air wing, the vessel would have been equipped with a variety of offensive and defensive weapons like P-700 Granit cruise missiles, S-300 air defense systems, and layers of close-in defense systems.
In fact, this was not another naval vessel. The Soviets designed Ulyanovsk to be a rival that could hold its own against the most powerful carrier groups of the US Navy. The Soviets, in essence, wanted to raise the bar in terms of political prestige as much as they did in terms of military power.
History, however, stepped into its place. The fall of the Soviet Union brought the project to a standstill right where it gathered pace. Only about one-quarter of the carrier was constructed by early 1992. Moscow and the Kyiv new governments, which were dealing with an economic crisis, had neither the resources nor the will to continue the work.
The project had exceeded its budget and had now run into the bibillionsand survival was the priority over any grand ambition. On February 4, 1992, the carrier that was not yet finished was given the order to be scrapped, and its steel was cut up before it could ever touch the sea. The fantasy of a Soviet supercarrier met its end on the shipyard floor.
Its influence lives on. The only Russian carrier, the Admiral Kuznetsov, has been plagued with constant malfunctions, fires, and accidents to the extent that it is usually accompanied by a tugboat just in case it breaks down. It is mostly hard for the crew members to speak positively about their duty on Kuznetsov.
When it comes to the impact of the new, drastically modernized supercarriers, the dream will always remain alive. Some new suggestions keep surfacing from time to time, such as the nuclear-powered Shtorm design and other futuristic ideas. However, the projects still look like sketches and models because of restricted funds, changing priorities, and severe realities. Ulyanovs,k in a lot of ways, reflects the emblem – not of what developed but of what was terminated.
The headline is the same: without carriers, the Russian navy is so restricted in its potential to become a global player. In the long run, the wish can offer to have global outreach; however, geography, economics, and science set clear limits.
Finally, the Ulyanovsk narrative serves as a lesson that even the forcible military undertakings are susceptible to political and financial turmoils and collapse. Instead of a celebration of power, it is now a memorial of unfulfilled hopes and an ever-standing indication of obstacles standing in the way of naval dominance.