Four Years of the Great War: Ukrainians Rediscover Themselves — and Their Nation

Ukrinform spoke with Ukrainian experts about how we have changed, how our allies have evolved, and how the contours of global security have been reshaped

Four years have passed since Russia’s full-scale invasion — in a war that has now spanned twelve long years. That amounts to more than 35,000 hours of extraordinary, exhausting resistance. Over 2,104,000 minutes during which we have not merely stood at the forefront of history — we have been actively shaping it, paying the highest possible price.

Behind our heroic struggle lies immense pain and irreparable loss: the relentless wail of air-raid sirens, the constant thunder of air defense systems, artillery barrages, explosions from ballistic missiles and drones. Shattered homes. Burned schools. Cities and villages erased from the map. Fields sown not with crops, but with mines. Tens of thousands killed or maimed. Millions displaced. Families torn apart.

And yet, through blood, sweat, and tears, we continue to prove to the world — and, most importantly, to ourselves — that we are a nation that has come of age. United. Courageous. Not the so-called “failed state” that Russian propaganda spent decades trying to depict us.

It is almost surreal to recall that we were given three days to capitulate. We took those three days and multiplied them by 487 — and we will keep multiplying them for as long as it takes, while reducing our enemy’s ambitions to zero. Ukraine is growing stronger, more resolute, and remains unbowed.

On February 24, 2026, it is time to look back. Who were we at the outset of the Great War? Who have we become? What painful lessons have we learned about our friends, our partners — and, of course, about our enemy?

WHO WERE WE — AND WHO HAVE WE BECOME? WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED ABOUT OURSELVES?

The most profound transformation of Ukrainian society over these four years has occurred in the realm of self-awareness. We have moved from a state of potential to one of fully realized agency. As experts observe, the central revelation has been that Ukraine has finally shed both its inferiority complex and its lingering illusions about external salvation.

Reflecting on this existential shift, historian Yaroslav Hrytsak argues that we have overcome our internal doubts about our own identity:

“We were a nation — and we remain a nation. The only difference is that before February 24, 2022, somewhere deep down, we still doubted it. Today, that doubt is gone. In philosophy, there is the concept of a ‘thing-in-itself.’ It applies to social phenomena as well: sometimes a community exists without fully recognizing its own existence — until something transformative occurs. In essence, we have moved from existing ‘in ourselves’ to existing ‘for ourselves.’ And that is a colossal change.”

This new condition is accompanied by immense internal strain. Yet it is also a condition of resilience. We have been holding the line for four years. That fact alone defies comparison with ordinary human experience.

History offers few parallels to such sustained national endurance. And if such examples do exist, they are rare.

At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, I vividly recall the conversations we had — the fear, the confusion, the endless streams of refugees. And yet, at the very same time, we suddenly felt — almost to the point of physical pain — how profoundly beautiful our country is.

In those first weeks, I interviewed a well-known public officer who is still fighting today. I asked him what he would do after victory. Without hesitation, he replied that he would take his wife and two children to northern Donbas. Few people, he said, truly understand how beautiful it is there — the lakes, the forests…

Perhaps that is our greatest discovery. We have rediscovered our own country.

Each of us in our own way: some by remaining here, others by leaving and now yearning for it from afar. At times, returning by bus from abroad, I overhear the quiet conversations of weary people heading home. They speak of simple things — even the taste of homemade food. And in those moments, you realize how intimate and irreplaceable these things have become.

Perhaps this is simply human nature: we only begin to cherish something fully when we are confronted with the possibility of losing it.

Diplomat Volodymyr Ohryzko expands on this thought, stressing that the nation has also shed its naïve paternalism in international affairs:

“If we speak about all of us, then our main discovery is this: we have truly understood that we are a nation. We are a country that has outgrown the ‘childish trousers’ of naïve expectations that someone else would one day solve our problems for us. That phase is over.”

“We have become conscious — perhaps more than anyone else in the world today — that freedom and liberty are not bestowed as gifts. They must be fought for. And this is a conclusion not for a single year or political term, but for decades ahead. I believe we have drawn an essential and powerful lesson: we are a nation that understands what values mean. And not only understands them — but is prepared to defend them, even at the cost of our last strength.”

At the same time, political scientist Oleh Saakyan draws attention to the institutional dimension of our maturation. In his view, Ukraine is undergoing a complex transition: from a pre-war electoral democracy to a war-hardened system in which institutions are no longer procedural ornaments but instruments of survival.

He formulates it succinctly:

“At the start of the full-scale invasion, we were still naïve. Now we are far more disillusioned — but also more sober-minded. We once placed great hopes in others; today, we increasingly look for support within ourselves. We did not fully understand our own value — and now the crucial task is not to swing to the opposite extreme and overestimate ourselves.”

As a society, we have grown up through war. As a state, we have discovered that our institutions are neither as fragile as we feared nor as robust as we might wish. Most importantly, we have grasped a fundamental truth: without institutions, there is no state.

We are beginning to recognize their necessity not as a theoretical principle, but as a lived reality.

In practical terms, Ukraine is moving from a model of electoral democracy — where politics is reduced to periodic voting — toward a securitized wartime democracy. The ultimate challenge will be to transform this into a resilient, institutionalized democracy capable of functioning in peace.

Disappointments are inevitable — perhaps even in the next elections. But those very disappointments may serve as a rite of passage for a new, post-war Ukraine.

For his part, political scientist Ihor Reiterovych argues that the past four years have definitively legitimized the Ukrainian nation in the eyes of the world, dispelling skeptical Western assumptions about our capacity to endure:

“It seems to me that we were a nation even before 2022. But it was during the full-scale war that a true Ukrainian nation was forged. Not merely a political nation — defined by formal criteria or a checklist of attributes — but a nation proven through action.

It was then that the world truly discovered Ukraine. Not in 1991, not in 2004, and not even in 2014 — though those were profoundly important moments.

It was 2022 that demonstrated that freedom, dignity, justice, democracy — however much some may now try to devalue or stigmatize these words — carry real weight. And when people hold principles, they are prepared to defend them, even with weapons in their hands. Ukrainians are genuinely a freedom-loving nation. Their land matters to them. Their right to live according to their own will matters to them.

Despite all the pseudo-historical absurdities voiced by Putin. And, frankly speaking, despite the expectations of some Europeans who believed there was no point in fighting — that preserving life at any cost was preferable. But there are things more important than mere survival.”

Summarizing this phase of reflection, diplomat Vadym Tryukhan stresses that Ukraine has shed its “rose-colored glasses” and confronted the stark pragmatism of global politics — a realm in which combat capability has become our primary currency:

“Over these four years, Ukraine has changed fundamentally. As of February 24, 2022, we were living in a kind of bubble. We naively believed that a Great War would not happen — and that if it did, major powers, our partners — the United States, the European Union, perhaps others — would immediately step in to defend us. The vast majority of people thought this way.”

“And at the same time, people were genuinely ready to give their lives to defend the Motherland. Immediately after the invasion, kilometer-long lines formed at military enlistment offices, territorial defense centers, and newly created volunteer units.”

Today, Ukraine is more sober — and more mature. Most of us no longer wear rose-colored glasses. We understand clearly that the war is ongoing and may continue for many months — perhaps even years.

We have also come to a hard realization: we do not have permanent allies, only a limited circle of partners. Each of them operates within the constraints of domestic politics — electoral cycles, public opinion, economic pressures, and the influence of Russian propaganda. A change of government can mean a change of course. Ukraine can move from the top of a priority list to the margins almost overnight.

There are no constants in international politics — only interests.

Therefore, Ukraine’s survival as a sovereign, independent state depends first and foremost on Ukrainians themselves. Not on the United States. Not on Europe. Not on anyone else. Partnerships matter, of course. Securing resources and strengthening coalitions remain essential. But they supplement our resilience — they do not replace it.

Four years of war amount to an entire historical epoch. We have grown up.

We have learned, to a considerable degree, to rely on our own capabilities. In some domains, we are no longer merely recipients of assistance — we are providers of expertise. Among our European partners, there is competition for Ukrainian instructors, for our tactical know-how, for our real combat experience.

The task now is to use this capital strategically — to play our cards intelligently. To borrow Trump’s terminology, we must treat them as our jokers.

HOW HAVE OUR PERCEPTIONS OF FRIENDS AND PARTNERS CHANGED?

Geopolitics has proven far more cynical than international law textbooks ever suggested. Over four years of full-scale war, Ukrainians have undergone a profound realization: formal alliances often give way to situational interests, and the West’s supposedly “immutable” values sometimes collide with fear of escalation.

Political scientist Oleh Saakyan aptly notes that Ukraine has effectively become a catalyst for Europe’s awakening — a Europe that for decades ignored mounting global threats:

“We suddenly saw that mature states can be short-sighted. And at the same time — that yesterday’s ‘children’ can behave far more responsibly and maturely. We found ourselves at the epicenter of global trends at a time when others had not yet fully grasped them. And we had a unique opportunity to watch that awareness slowly dawn on them — while we were holding the sky for them the entire time.

This year we witnessed how, 19 years after Putin’s Munich speech, Europe finally accepted the challenge and began to respond. Some will say — 19 years too late. Others will admit that not long ago it was hard to believe we would even live to see this moment. Before our eyes — at the cost of sweat, blood, lives, and the extraordinary efforts of thousands of Ukrainians — Europe is becoming a fully fledged geopolitical actor. And with Ukraine as part of it.

This transformation is not only a consequence of the Russian-Ukrainian war. It is also the result of what Ukraine itself has proven to be.”

We have been given a chance not merely to proclaim an abstract “integration vector,” but to secure tangible friends and partners.

Today, a number of European states stand shoulder to shoulder with Ukraine — in advancing EU integration, strengthening security, and sharing responsibility for the continent’s future.

Likewise, developments surrounding the United States and its posture toward Greenland underscored a broader truth of international relations: even long-standing partners act primarily through the prism of national interest.

We have learned that sometimes it is better to have honest and reliable partners than formal allies who may threaten, hesitate, or attempt to trade you away within a larger geopolitical bargain.

We have also taken a sober look at the enemy. He is neither as weak nor as foolish as some would prefer to believe. And precisely for that reason, the fact that we are holding the line and quite literally clawing out our future only underscores our strength. It is one thing to fight ill-equipped rabble; it is another to confront a force that even those who once seemed stronger than us still fear.

At the same time, we increasingly perceive the depth of the values gap between ourselves and part of the West. When the question is asked, “Why do you need dignity if so many people are dying?” — the gulf between us and those who think this way is deeper than the Mariana Trench. Because for us, dignity is not an abstraction; it is the foundation of existence.

Our circle of self-awareness seems to be completing its full 360 degrees: from the formula “Ukraine is not Russia” to answering the more complex question — what, in fact, is Ukraine? This is what the Ukrainian people and the army are defending today. This is why we are buying time. And this, ultimately, will define the end of the war: a self-aware Ukraine within protected borders, with guaranteed capacity for development — a clear and conscious understanding of itself and its place in the world.

Turning to the practical dimension of partnership, diplomat Vadym Tryukhan underscores the stark divergence between countries that have mobilized their full capacity to support Ukraine and those that have disappointed through excessive pragmatism or domestic political calculations. He points in particular to shifts in the position of the United States, as well as to the unexpected leadership shown by several Nordic states:

“There are only enduring interests… Unfortunately, some of our partners have demonstrated weakness: they speak at length but act sparingly. At the same time, others — from whom we expected less — have emerged as leaders in the scale of assistance to Ukraine, both financial and military.”

First and foremost, the Baltic states deserve special recognition. These are relatively small countries, yet when assistance is measured as a percentage of GDP, they rank among the undisputed leaders.

The same applies to the Nordic countries — above all Norway, as well as Sweden, Denmark, and Finland.

These states appear to grasp most acutely the implications of a potential Ukrainian collapse or Russian occupation. In their strategic assessment, if Ukraine were to fall, they themselves could they could be next on the Kremlin’s list.

To some extent, certain Eastern European partners have proven disappointing.

Poland initially provided extraordinary military assistance. Over time, however, Warsaw has increasingly focused on strengthening its own armed forces. This shift reflects pragmatic national interest rather than withdrawal of support.

Poland remembers the catastrophic experience of the late 1930s, when it was unable to withstand aggression from Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. Today it is investing heavily in rearmament to avoid repeating that vulnerability. At the same time, Poland remains indispensable to Ukraine as the primary logistical hub: the overwhelming majority of military deliveries transit through Polish territory. That role alone constitutes invaluable support and warrants consistent acknowledgment.

Germany has undergone one of the most dramatic transformations. At the outset of the full-scale invasion, skepticism about Ukraine’s ability to endure was widespread in Berlin, and assistance was symbolically modest — helmets became emblematic of that caution.

Today, Germany ranks first in terms of the volume of military aid. The allocation of €11.5 billion for 2026 is extraordinary — especially when contrasted with the two to three billion provided by countries such as France.

Norway deserves separate mention. Though small in population, Norway is exceptionally wealthy and has committed over €8 billion in military assistance to Ukraine.

Frankly, the United States has been a major disappointment. In 2025, the level of U.S. assistance amounted to roughly 1% compared to 2023–2024. Moreover, there were repeated suspensions — at times halting intelligence sharing, at other times freezing the transfer of military equipment and ammunition that had already been purchased with European funds.

A particularly painful issue has been what many perceive as open accommodation of Vladimir Putin — public ultimatums directed at Ukraine and President Zelensky. As a result, Ukraine must gradually prepare for a scenario in which U.S.-supplied weapons and equipment are fully replaced through a combination of other partners’ contributions and expanded domestic production.

The most complex challenge concerns interceptor missiles, particularly for the MIM-104 Patriot system. Securing sufficient stocks of these interceptors is critical for countering Russian ballistic threats.

Therefore, several parallel tracks are essential:

Broader deployment of alternative air defense systems such as SAMP/T.

Accelerated development of Ukraine’s own air and missile defense capabilities capable of countering Russian ballistic missiles.

Procurement of interceptor stockpiles from third countries where they have remained in storage for years — and such countries still exist.

On the positive side, Japan has been a remarkably strong financial supporter despite geographical distance and constitutional constraints.

The emergence of partners such as Australia and New Zealand has also been a welcome development. Australia’s transfer of M1A1 Abrams tanks to Ukraine would have seemed highly improbable not long ago.

As for Hungary and Slovakia, the situation appears more straightforward. Viktor Orbán and Robert Fico are widely perceived in Kyiv as advancing positions that align closely with the Kremlin’s interests — functioning, in effect, as a “Trojan horse” within the European Union by blocking or delaying decisions critical to Ukraine.

At present, for example, they are once again obstructing approval of a €90 billion assistance package for Ukraine over a two-year period. This creates serious political and financial uncertainty at a time when sustained, predictable support is essential.

Historian Yaroslav Hrytsak adds an important socio-cultural dimension to this analysis: Ukrainians have stopped idealizing the West — yet this has not altered the country’s strategic trajectory.

In essence, Ukraine’s choice in favor of the European Union and NATO today is driven not by fashion or political trend, but by a basic instinct for survival. At the same time, the human dimension of foreign solidarity with Ukraine remains unprecedented.

He puts it this way:

“First and foremost, we understood that the West cannot be idealized. Our perceptions were largely romanticized — and that, too, is part of growing up. We now look at it more soberly. But what is crucial is that this has not turned into disappointment or skepticism. We have not turned away. We still want to be part of the West.

Sociological data show that in Ukraine, a consensus has formed not only around the European Union, but also around NATO. And this is no longer a matter of fashion or political expediency — it is a conscious, existential choice. It is about survival. We understand that with an aggressive and unpredictable neighbor such as Russia, we effectively have no alternative.”

At the same time, countless personal stories give this geopolitical orientation a deeply human meaning.

Hrytsak recounts that just a week ago, returning from a conference, he struck up a conversation on a train with an American woman who has been living in Ukraine for four years. She told him:

“I came here because I want to repay a debt of gratitude and atone for the mistakes made by our presidents — Clinton, Obama, especially Trump. I am ashamed of them.”

Today she supports Ukraine by delivering medical supplies, organizing meetings, and participating in various initiatives. And she is far from alone.

There is, he suggests, a powerful emotional and existential pull in Ukraine — a sense of beauty, intensity, and fullness of life that many foreigners feel when they come here. Some return again and again. For them, Ukraine becomes an inner impulse, even a positive kind of dependence. Here, they find meaning. Here, they breathe deeply.

At the same time, countless personal stories lend this geopolitical orientation a profoundly human dimension.

Hrytsak recalls that just a week earlier, while returning from a conference, he struck up a conversation on a train with an American woman who has been living in Ukraine for four years. She told him:

“I came here because I want to repay a debt of gratitude and atone for the mistakes made by our presidents — Clinton, Obama, especially Trump. I am ashamed of them.”

Today she supports Ukraine by delivering medical supplies, organizing meetings, and contributing to various initiatives. And she is far from alone.

According to Hrytsak, Ukraine exerts a powerful emotional and existential pull. There is a sense of beauty here, of intensity and fullness of life, that many foreigners experience deeply. Some return again and again. For them, Ukraine becomes an inner calling — almost an addiction in the best sense of the word. Here, they find meaning. Here, they breathe more freely.

Political scientist Ihor Reiterovych points to what might be described as a paradox: Western fear of escalation unfolding against the backdrop of Ukrainian courage.

“How have our perceptions of friends and partners changed? First and foremost, we realized that we truly do have friends — countries that not only speak warmly about Ukraine but are genuinely prepared to do a great deal to support us. And this is not merely about states as institutions; it is about countries as societies, about people, citizens, entire nations.

We have also seen that we have partners. At the same time, it became obvious that the depth of this partnership often fluctuated depending on the battlefield situation. Forgive the cynicism, but we learned just how dependent many partners are on external circumstances. So, frankly, the reactions of certain countries did not come as a great surprise. Some impressed us; others, regrettably, disappointed.

Overall, we saw that despite everything Ukraine has endured, many partners remain hesitant on key issues. A fear persists — fear of escalation, fear of Russia as such. And, unfortunately, even by the end of the fourth year of full-scale war, that fear has not fully disappeared.

One might reasonably ask: where does it still come from, when Ukrainians have repeatedly demonstrated in practice what the Russian Federation and its so-called power are truly worth?”

“But the essential point is this: we truly do have partners. Even 2014 did not reveal this as clearly as we see it today. Back then, many approached Ukraine with a certain pragmatism — there is a problem, let’s find a way to ‘resolve’ it quickly so it stops disrupting the broader agenda.

Today the approach is different. They have come to understand that there are principles worth defending. And perhaps Ukraine has reminded them of their own revolutionary past — of how many of these countries once fought for, or reclaimed, their independence.

For a prosperous, largely comfortable Europe — and for the wider democratic world accustomed to stability, leisure, and self-development — it suddenly became clear that there are things more important than comfort. And in the 21st century, nothing you possess can be assumed to be permanent. Everything can change in an instant — simply because next door there may be an irrational neighbor prepared to discard the rules entirely and unleash a full-scale war.”

Diplomat Volodymyr Ohryzko offers a stark conclusion to this diplomatic transition. Paraphrasing his central message, Ukrainian subjectivity was forged through the realization of our fundamental solitude on the global stage — and we will never again allow our fate to be dictated from foreign capitals.

“If we begin with the negative, the main conclusion of these years — not only the four of full-scale war, but in fact all twelve — is that we must honestly admit: in this world, we are largely on our own. The belief that someone would inevitably come and solve our problems proved naïve.

Friends do exist — unquestionably. But they are few. And experience has shown that even those you rely on most can, at a certain moment, simply betray you — and then act as though you somehow owe them something. It is a bitter lesson, but one we are compelled to learn.”

At the same time, there has been undeniable positive change. We have become different — as individuals, as a society, as a nation. And this transformation is irreversible.

We will no longer trail behind anyone under any circumstances. We will not live in constant anticipation of what has been said in one capital or another. We have acquired a clear and conscious sense of our own subjectivity.

We are becoming a nation with whom others, on the one hand, will find it rewarding to cooperate — because we are resilient, capable, and dependable. On the other hand, we will not always be convenient — because we have learned to defend our interests and, when necessary, to assert ourselves firmly and unapologetically.

And this experience will not be erased. Life has taught us harsh lessons — but within that harshness lies immense value.

WHAT CAN WE SAY ABOUT OUR ENEMY?

Illusions about “brotherly peoples,” a “great culture,” or the possibility of reaching some durable accommodation with Moscow now lie buried beneath the ruins of Ukrainian cities. The war has stripped away every mask, exposing the profoundly anti-human core of Russian imperialism. For some, this realization came as a shock; for others, it confirmed long-standing historical patterns.

For diplomat Volodymyr Ohryzko, there were no fundamental surprises. In his view, the defining historical task of the modern era is the dismantling of the Russian empire in its current form:

“For some, it may have been a revelation that Russia is an enemy. For me, it was not. My diplomatic career placed me in constant contact with representatives of this state for many years and decades. I studied it — not out of curiosity, but out of the need to explain to others what we are dealing with. I understood clearly that we lived under a permanent threat. The fact that so few people acknowledged this was — and remains — a serious problem.

February 24 was undoubtedly a shock. I did not expect Russia to so openly assume the role of a state intent on dismantling the global order — and, in the process, breaking its own rotten teeth against it. But somewhere, at a deeper level, I sensed that sooner or later we would sever ties completely. And that, essentially, is what has happened.”

If we fast-forward to this day, I sincerely hope that the overwhelming majority of Ukrainians have finally opened their eyes and understood whom they once sought to befriend and coexist with. My hope now rests on one conviction: that, together with our European partners, we recognize our shared historical mission. In my view, that mission is clear —neither Ukrainians nor Europeans should continue to share a neighborhood with this aggressive state in its current form. It must cease to exist on the political map of the world in the form in which it exists today.

Political scientist Ihor Reiterovych reinforces this argument, pointing to a painful yet necessary awakening among millions of Ukrainians — not only regarding the responsibility of the political elite, but also the broader societal complicity in Russia’s genocidal war:

“What can we say about the enemy? Everyone will likely have their own answer. For some, what Russians ultimately proved to be came as a genuine shock. Many had long viewed them through the prism of the so-called ‘great Russian culture’ — ballet, literature, art in general — realms that hardly seem compatible with war.

For others, the realization was particularly painful because even after 2014, Russians were still perceived as a kindred people. Not ‘brotherly,’ perhaps — but related. At the very least, as people we understood, with whom we shared a language. Many Ukrainians, incidentally, spoke Russian better than Russians themselves — a paradox I noticed as far back as the late 1990s. But that is beside the point.

Personally, nothing fundamentally new was revealed to me. I always knew Russians were like this — chauvinistic, imperial in mindset — ninety, perhaps ninety-five percent of the population. And this is not only about Putin or his inner circle. These are specific individuals. Putin did not personally kill, rape, or loot — those crimes were committed by people with names and faces.”

For many, what Russia revealed itself to be was not a transformation but an exposure.

As Ihor Reiterovych suggests, the question was never whether this aggressive, anti-human nature existed — only when it would fully manifest itself. Earlier, it was visible in the Chechen wars, in systemic violence against Russia’s own population. Once this violence crossed Russia’s borders, it simply appeared “in full display.”

For those who had long observed Russian political culture critically, the full-scale invasion confirmed rather than surprised. But for millions of Ukrainians, particularly those with relatives in Russia, the rupture was deeply personal and traumatic. The collapse of familial ties, linguistic proximity, and long-cultivated myths of “brotherhood” was perhaps one of the most painful dimensions of this war.

Yet there is also a hard-edged clarity in this timing. It is better that the illusion collapsed now — even brutally — than under circumstances in which Ukrainian society might have lost the will to resist, lulled by narratives of “unity” and “shared destiny.” The dismantling of those myths has become part of Ukraine’s psychological decolonization.

From a military-strategic standpoint, diplomat Vadym Tryukhan stresses that underestimating Russia today would be deadly.

Russia has adapted. It has restructured its war effort, scaled up arms production, and shifted toward a strategy of attrition.

Key elements of that transformation include:

Transition from rapid maneuver warfare to prolonged attritional operations.

Reliance on mass assaults and manpower-intensive tactics.

Systematic exhaustion of Ukrainian resources.

Expansion of drone warfare, including agreements with Iran for the supply of Shahed-type UAVs, followed by localization and scaling of domestic production.

Russia has also significantly altered the aerial dimension of the war — increasing missile production, improving strike coordination, and integrating drones into layered attack packages.

The strategic objective, as articulated in this assessment, remains maximalist. It is not confined to Donetsk or Luhansk. It is not even limited to the so-called “Novorossiya” narrative. The target is Kyiv. The target is full political control over Ukraine — potentially extending influence westward beyond it.

This must be understood without euphemism.

If we examine the enemy’s behavior since the New Year, we see approximately six large-scale waves of combined missile-and-drone strikes. During this period, more than 250 missiles were launched — nearly half of them ballistic — along with over 2,000 long-range strike drones.

All of this unfolded against the backdrop of supposed “negotiations”: first in Abu Dhabi, then in Geneva, and now even discussions of a possible summit in a Zelensky–Trump–Putin format. Yet Russia has neither paused nor signaled any intention to do so. It will not stop as long as it retains the capability to launch missiles and drones.

The positive development is the expansion of domestic missile production — including systems such as “Flamingo” and upgraded versions of the Neptune missile.

There have already been strikes on facilities such as the Votkinsk plant, disrupting production of systems including Iskander, Oreshnik and other missile platforms. Facilities linked to Shahed-type drone production in Yelabuga have also been targeted, along with oil refineries.

The strategic logic is straightforward:

Scale up domestic missile and long-range drone production.

Systematically degrade Russian military-industrial capacity.

Target logistics infrastructure — railways, depots, distribution hubs.

Work with partners to disrupt supply chains of critical components routed through third countries.

Without Western-origin microelectronics and precision components — sourced indirectly from countries including the United States and various European Union member states — Russia’s missile and drone output would be severely constrained. Supply-chain warfare has become as important as battlefield operations.”

Historian Yaroslav Hrytsak distills this entire discussion into a stark civilizational judgment.

In his view, the possibility of coexistence with Russia in its current form has collapsed. The idea that formulas of accommodation could ensure long-term stability has proven illusory.

Russia’s historical trajectory, he argues, reveals a cyclical pattern of aggressive relapse punctuated by brief intervals of relative calm. Those short “bright” intervals cannot justify tolerating systemic aggression.

The implication is strategic rather than emotional: Ukraine’s survival depends on an irreversible civilizational shift westward — into the political, institutional, and security architecture of the Western world.

What remains is clarity: stopping systemic aggression requires not temporary truces, but structural transformation of the security environment in which it thrives.

Unfortunately, Ukraine does not have the luxury of geographically relocating somewhere far away to live at a safe distance from this neighborhood. The only viable path, as this argument suggests, is to step definitively out of Russia’s shadow — to anchor Ukraine irreversibly within a different civilizational

Before the full-scale invasion, Ukraine was repeatedly denied even a formal membership perspective in the European Union. Discussions about accession were cautious, prolonged, and often deflected.

Today, that perspective is no longer abstract. Of course, one would prefer for such changes to take place in times of peace. Yet history often moves in paradoxical ways: regrettably, it is war that makes possible what once seemed entirely unattainable. unreachable has become institutionally plausible.

MESSAGE TO THE FUTURE: TO OURSELVES AND TO ALL UKRAINIANS

Despite the exhaustion of the fourth year of full-scale war, the core message from experts remains a call to mobilize internal strength and assume responsibility. Having shed empty illusions, Ukrainians must rely on solidarity, pragmatism, and an unshakable belief in their own viability.

Vadym Tryukhan argues that the word “victory” must be restored to public discourse. In his view, every citizen in the rear must align daily life with the needs of the front:

“We have effectively removed the word ‘victory’ from our everyday rhetoric. Instead, we speak of a just, sustainable, lasting peace. But we should remember how this began. We defeated Russian forces and pushed them back from the outskirts of Kyiv, from Chernihiv and Sumy, from my native Kharkiv, and we liberated Kherson. We must bring that narrative back — the narrative of victory — into daily life.

We have to live with victory in mind. Every person, wherever they are, must work toward it. Spend less on entertainment, expensive cars, designer clothes, and similar luxuries — and more on supporting the Defense Forces, on donations, on taxes that finance the army. Everyone must contribute. At the same time, we must raise our children with a clear understanding that Russians are the enemy. There is no alternative path. This is existential — a matter of survival.

If the entire nation is united and focused on a single goal — defeating this enemy — then victory becomes attainable. If we grow complacent, sit in restaurants, evade mobilization, ignore the needs of the army and our brothers-in-arms, then the consequences will be grave. Victory is essential. But it does not come on its own. It requires daily effort.”

Historian Yaroslav Hrytsak offers a more somber forecast. As a scholar of historical cycles, he cautions against easy optimism and urges preparedness for a prolonged struggle.

Yet his message is not fatalistic; it is profoundly human:

“I will say something that brings me no joy. Unfortunately, we must prepare for the possibility of a fifth anniversary of this war — perhaps even a sixth. I would much prefer to speak in more optimistic terms. But my understanding of history does not permit facile predictions. I sincerely hope that, this time, the historian in me is mistaken — that my words will not come true, that there will be no fifth anniversary.

At the same time, there are things that already depend on us. Value yourselves and one another. As a good monk-poet once said, cherish those you love, for they leave us too quickly. Great Lent has begun. It is said that during Lent one should give what one lacks most. Perhaps what matters most now is giving time to those closest to you. Be with your parents, if they are still alive. If they are not, visit their graves. If you have young children, play with them. If they are grown, offer them words of support. In short, let us remain human — in the fullest sense of that word. Because above all, that is what sustains us today.”

Political scientist Ihor Reiterovych formulates the most categorical conclusion, independent of future political arrangements:

“Whatever the Russians do, whatever they attempt to change, whatever external or internal processes occur, however this war affects society — one fact remains constant: Ukraine was, is, and will be. That is a given, not a variable. There will be no collapse, no disintegration, no disappearance. Partners and enemies alike — it makes no difference — must simply recognize and accept this.”

Diplomat Volodymyr Ohryzko elevates the discussion to the level of global responsibility, arguing that Ukraine must consciously embrace the role of a values-based leader in the 21st century:

“You know, I often think that it is time for us, Ukrainians, to finally recognize our mission in this complex, cynical, inconsistent, and often fearful world. We must honestly tell ourselves: we deserve to be a strong and leading nation. Not in the sense of aggression or conquest, but in the sense of values-based leadership.

Over these years, we have demonstrated that there are things worth holding onto and worth fighting for. We have shown that values are not declarations, but a readiness to pay a high price for them. If we all fully internalize this — if we accept this responsibility collectively — then, believe me, Ukraine will be spoken of as a miracle of the 21st century. That is something I sincerely want to believe.”

Political scientist Oleh Saakyan concludes with a message that is at once inspiring and cautionary. Ukraine, he argues, has emerged from the geopolitical shadows and become an epicenter of global processes. But that status requires abandoning old mistakes.

“We must be strong — those who inspire and protect, who take on suffering for the sake of others, demonstrating strength of both spirit and body. Above all, this is about responsibility — responsibility internally and externally. The times when we could sit things out have passed — and they cost Ukraine dearly.

Today, we have already become a force of the moment, part of global processes while remaining local. Any steps we take no longer occur in a notional buffer between Russia and Europe, somewhere on the periphery of the West. They occur at the very center — and ripple outward, influencing other countries and societies.

Our corruption can undermine not only confidence in our own defense programs, but also trigger political crises in states that have supported Ukraine. Our path toward European integration — both its achievements and its setbacks — becomes ammunition for entire political movements and leaders abroad. Words spoken in Ukraine by those in power, by the opposition, or by retired commanders are instantly amplified across leading global media outlets.

We are no longer small. But whether we can avoid repeating the mistake of our enemy — confusing large in size with great in essence — remains an open question. And that is the examination our political generation will be taking for the entirety of its journey.”

Myroslav Liskovych, Kyiv