Ukraine is on the defensive, militarily, economically and diplomatically
Russian advances, fatigue among its allies and political divisions at home leave it in a bind
“Russia CAN only be forced into peace,” Volodymyr Zelensky, the president of Ukraine, told the UN Security Council this week. Mr Zelensky has been touring America, glad-handing the great and the good and talking up his “victory plan” to end two and a half years of war with Russia. As usual, he asked for more military, financial and diplomatic support to help face down Russia’s relentless attacks. President Joe Biden obliged, announcing a new consignment of weapons for Ukraine. But Donald Trump, the Republican candidate to replace him, is much less amenable. Mr Zelensky clearly worries that Ukraine, not Russia, may be forced into an unpalatable peace. With his army gradually losing ground, his people’s enthusiasm for the war flagging and Western support in doubt, Mr Zelensky is in a bind.
Since Ukraine recaptured the city of Kherson in late 2022, it has made almost no progress repelling Russia’s invasion. A much heralded offensive in the summer of 2023 won only tiny slivers of Russian-held territory. Since then, most changes in the front line, although small, have been in the wrong direction. Russia captured the city of Avdiivka in Donetsk province in February. In recent months it has been closing in on several more Ukrainian strongholds in Donetsk, including Pokrovsk and Vuhledar (see map).
In theory, Ukraine remains determined to reclaim all its lost territory, restoring the borders it inherited when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991. That would entail the reconquest not only of the Russian-occupied bits of Donetsk, Kherson, Luhansk and Zaporizhia provinces, but also of Crimea, which Russia seized in 2014. But that is far out of reach militarily. In practice, the war has become one of attrition, with both sides hoping they can outlast the other, or at least fend the other off for long enough to avoid being forced into a disadvantageous peace agreement.
The blast of war blows
Talk of an end to the war is, for the moment, purely notional. Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, has shown no genuine interest in peace talks. In 2022 Mr Zelensky signed a decree barring Ukrainian officials from negotiating with Russia while Mr Putin remains in power.
Mr Zelensky still talks as if outright victory on the battlefield remains within reach, although he has also mentioned a “desire for dialogue”. Ukraine’s hope seems to be that an influx of new recruits, a steady supply of Western arms and the clever application of firepower can hold Mr Putin’s armies at bay, forcing him to bear the political costs of mobilising more reservists and further straining the economy, and so nudging him towards a deal. But it may be Ukraine’s army, economy and society that reach breaking-point first.
Russia’s advances are coming at a horrifying cost. Volodymyr Horbatyuk, the Ukrainian army’s deputy chief-of-staff, claims Russia has recently been losing six men for every Ukrainian casualty. “They are really pushing everyone into the grinder: drivers, cooks, builders,” echoes another high-ranking soldier. An American official says that 100,000 Russians have been killed and 430,000 injured since the start of the war.
The pace of Russian gains, already grindingly slow, has recently reduced even further. It is possible that Pokrovsk may continue to hold out for several more months. Western fears of a Ukrainian collapse and a rapid Russian advance on big cities such as Dnipro and Odessa have receded, provided America does not suddenly cut off the flow of munitions.
Stiffen the sinews
But the balance of attrition nonetheless favours Russia. If Russian forces eventually seize Pokrovsk, as they probably will in the end, the landscape to the west is flatter and so more favourable to further Russian advances. What is more, Russia still enjoys a huge advantage in firepower, even after Ukraine received a big influx of American weapons earlier this year. Russian artillery rules the front line, firing as many as ten shells for every Ukrainian one in some places. Russia also gets an edge from its glide bombs, guided munitions of 500kg, 1,500kg or 3,000kg that can flatten defensive positions and slaughter troops.
Although Ukrainian casualties are much lower than Russia’s (but probably not as low as Mr Horbatyuk claims), Ukraine is finding it harder to replace them. It has fewer soldiers at the front to begin with: 450,000 to Russia’s 540,000. And whereas most of the Russian troops have signed up voluntarily for generous pay, Ukraine is relying ever more on conscription. Officers complain that many of those drafted into service are ill-suited to fighting: too old, too ill, too drunk. There is no clear path out of the army once in it, which makes being mobilised seem like a one-way ticket to the morgue. Some 5-10% of soldiers on active duty are absent without leave. The authorities are prosecuting lots of deserters, but they do not command as much fear as Mr Putin’s regime. Fewer than 30% of Ukrainians consider draft-dodging shameful, according to an opinion poll.
These problems have been exacerbated to some extent by Ukraine’s incursion into the Russian province of Kursk, which began in August. Although this offensive reaffirmed Ukraine’s capacity to seize the initiative, outsmart Russian forces and embarrass Mr Putin, it also extended the front lines and stretched Ukraine’s supply-lines. It has not prompted Russia to slow its offensive in Donetsk, as hoped, although some Russian forces have been diverted to Kursk’s defence. And it has reduced the resources available for the defence of Pokrovsk: Oleksandr, an officer stationed near the city says his unit has received less air support since the incursion began.
Stabilising the front line will require more firepower. Senior Ukrainian officials says their forces need a layered defence, including artillery, missiles, warplanes and drones, to force Russian troops and weapons away from the front line and so make further advances impossible. Ukraine has been asking for permission to use powerful Western missiles to attack military targets deep inside Russia, such as air bases, factories and infrastructure. A trio of audacious Ukrainian drone and missile strikes in recent weeks—one against an arms dump in Toropets, 500km inside Russia, on September 18th and two others days later against depots in Krasnodar, 200km away—have served as powerful illustrations of what is possible.
But American officials worry that using Western weapons in this way might prompt Russia to retaliate by making life difficult for Western countries in other ways, by arming Houthi rebels in Yemen, say. Anyway, they argue, there are not enough missiles available to make a big difference. Instead, they are focusing on building up Ukraine’s domestic defence industry, especially its drone-making capacity. Ukraine has had great success with daring drone attacks, which have not only hit places like Toropets but also helped to drive Russia’s fleet out of the Black Sea, in effect. According to Oleksandr Kamyshin, an adviser to Mr Zelensky, Ukraine’s arms production is roughly tripling year on year.
The main problem, however, is not capacity, but cash. Ukraine’s government does not have the money to buy local arms manufacturers’ output. Order books are less than half full in some cases. Ukraine could produce more than 3m short-range attack drones a year, for instance, but the army has only been able to contract for 1.5m of them.
Mr Kamyshin wants to fund domestic arms purchases by lifting export controls and selling weapons abroad. He is also urging Western allies to pay for arms to be made in Ukraine. The Danish government, for example, has bought 18 Bohdan self-propelled artillery pieces for Ukraine in this way.
But Russia, too, is making more weapons. Mr Putin has pledged to increase the production of drones by a factor of almost ten this year. The manufacture of glide bombs and Iskander missiles has surged sevenfold since late 2022. Russia has also been able to buy big batches of ammunition and missiles from North Korea and of drones and missiles from Iran.
Among other things, these weapons have allowed Russia to launch nine waves of attacks from March to August against Ukraine’s power plants and electricity grid. It has hit targets in almost every province under Ukrainian control, according to a recent UN report. This onslaught took out some 80% of Ukraine’s coal- and gas-fired generation.
Many of the damaged facilities are functioning again, but remain vulnerable to future attacks. Ukraine’s air defences have improved, but Russia’s attacks have also become more sophisticated, using flares, decoys and other tricks to outwit anti-missile batteries. On August 26th Russia targeted the wiring connecting Ukraine’s three nuclear power stations to the grid, threatening to cut off over half of the country’s power supply in a single day.
Russia’s intention is to freeze Ukraine into submission, Mr Zelensky argued at the UN, since much of Ukraine’s heating depends on the power supply. As it is, there is a shortage of power. The deficit will become more severe as the weather gets colder—and as Russia’s blitz intensifies. There are fears of rolling blackouts of as long as 12 hours. In the worst case, pipes may freeze and burst, disabling heating systems even after power has been restored. Squads of technicians are stationed near important nodes in the grid, armed with replacement parts, ready for quick repairs. Concrete carapaces have been built to protect power plants. In cities near the front lines, such as Kharkiv, small, mobile generation units are being deployed to reduce the risk of a disastrous power failure.
To cope with power cuts, big industrial enterprises such as steel mills are investing in their own gas turbines. The chairman of a Ukrainian bank says his firm, too, is installing its own generation capacity. Even small businesses have bought generators or made other contingency plans. “It will be a very difficult winter, but I’m confident we will avoid catastrophe,” says Oleksandr Lytvynenko, head of Ukraine’s national security council.
On the face of things, most Ukrainians are equally confident and combative. Almost three-quarters tell pollsters that military victory remains possible. Only 9% say they would accept an end to the fighting that simply cements the current front lines without any other concessions.
But these figures disguise a growing generational rift. Those older than 60, who do not risk being drafted, are much more gung-ho about the war than the young: 54% of them believe that Ukraine is winning, compared to 31% of those between 18 and 25. By the same token, 60% of the elderly say Ukraine must continue fighting until all its territory is liberated, compared to only 40% of 18- to 25-year-olds. What is more, the number of Ukrainians who say they would be willing to cede territory to Russia under certain conditions has been rising steadily. The share willing to accept the current front lines rises to 38% if Ukraine were admitted to the European Union and given funds for reconstruction. If Ukraine were admitted to NATO as well, 47% would be willing to accept the current front lines. And fully 57% would be ready to make peace if Ukraine regained control of the occupied parts of Zaporizhia and Kherson regions, while ceding control over Crimea, Donetsk and Luhansk.
Life can seem deceptively normal in big cities like Odessa, where open-air restaurants are packed, spinning classes sell out and people taking selfies obstruct the seaside promenade. But 77% of Ukrainians say a friend or acquaintance has died in the war; 22% have lost a relative. Expectations of how long the war will last are increasing.
Although the economy has stabilised, and is even growing, it remains far smaller than it was before the war. Some 6.5m people, almost a fifth of the population, have fled the country. More than 60% of those who remain tell pollsters their income has shrunk and they are struggling to cope. The government is even harder up. Its revenues are barely projected to cover half of its spending in 2025. It needs grants or loans to cover the remaining $38bn or so. Although allies including America and the EU have agreed to fund the deficit using earnings from frozen Russian assets, the process is bureaucratic and leaves Ukraine hostage to its benefactors’ whims.
All this is feeding bitterness about the war’s toll. “The West and the United States in particular have an unequivocal responsibility for the deaths of Ukrainians,” says Yuriy Fedorenko, who commands a drone unit. “Russia kills us openly. The West, with its helpless and impotent reaction, gives silent consent to this destruction.”
Perhaps inevitably, Ukrainians’ trust in Mr Zelensky has fallen, from 80% in May 2023 to 45% this year, according to America’s National Democratic Institute. Trust in the government in general is much lower still. Even though all big political parties agreed last year to defer elections until the end of the war, Mr Zelensky is said to be considering calling a presidential election next year to consolidate his power.
“The political process has definitely started,” says Yulia Tymoshenko, a veteran politician. There is much debate about potential rivals to Mr Zelensky, such as Valery Zaluzhny, who was sacked as army chief in February. Polling suggests Ukrainians like the idea of being led by a former soldier. “The country is pregnant with expectations of new political leaders,” says Yulia Mostovaya, a journalist.
Hold hard the breath
It is against this unpromising backdrop that Mr Zelensky has travelled to America in search of further support. Mr Biden’s aides, although prone to grumbling about Ukraine’s endless demands, are trying to help as much as possible in the four remaining months of his presidency. The new military assistance is part of a push to spend the aid that Congress has already approved. They are also trying to unravel bureaucracy around the lending backed by frozen Russian assets. Some even express hope that Congress might be persuaded to approve more aid for Ukraine between the election in November and the inauguration of the new president in January.
If the new president is Kamala Harris, the Democratic candidate, Ukraine expects a broadly similar approach to Mr Biden’s. But if Mr Trump wins a second term, the outlook is much less predictable. His camp includes both hawkishly pro-Ukrainian types, such as Mike Pompeo, who served as secretary of state during Mr Trump’s presidency, and people who seem happy for Russia to defeat Ukraine, such as J.D. Vance, Mr Trump’s running-mate, who said just before Russia’s invasion in 2022, “I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine one way or another.”
Mr Trump’s latest rhetoric on the war is not reassuring. He joked this week that Mr Zelensky is “the greatest salesman on Earth” who walks away with $100bn every time he comes to America. He also mused that Russia tends to win wars and complained that Mr Biden is not planning for that possibility. Mr Trump’s eldest son, meanwhile, denounced Mr Zelensky’s mild scepticism about his father’s insistence that he can bring the war to a speedy conclusion as “disgraceful”.
At the UN General Assembly this week, Mr Zelensky talked about the dangers of appeasing belligerent powers like Russia and the injustice of trying to impose a lopsided peace on Ukraine. But he has yet to spell out what an acceptable end to the war might be, short of total victory. But in Ukraine’s current straits, total victory does not look like an option. ■