Four Years On: Ukraine’s War of Hope in a World Reordered

Four years into Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, we have crossed a grim and revealing milestone. The war has now lasted longer than the Soviet Union’s own Second World War experience – the so-called Great Patriotic War, which cost 26 million Soviet lives. That comparison is not about equating conflicts; it is a reminder of the sheer duration and weight of the present war, and how deeply it has already reshaped the global security landscape.

In objective terms, Putin has already lost, which he will never accept as such. His life history is one of playing for time, doubling down, conceding nothing, counting on a long war to wear Ukraine down.

When historians look back on this Russian aggression of choice, they may well credit Putin for assuring the unity and success of the Ukrainian nation. Hopefully, they will record how Ukraine’s democratic allies – Europeans, Canadians, others – stepped up to the maximum to support Ukrainian resilience, financially, militarily, and in postwar reconstruction, rehabilitation and partnership.

What stays with me most from those early months is the extraordinary, heroic defence mounted by Ukrainians – how they shattered Moscow’s expectation that Kyiv would fall in days. That moment was marked by a wave of solidarity, blue-and-yellow flags in windows, and a sense that the democratic world was united. But over time, even war becomes normalized, at least for those far away.

Ukraine’s successful resistance reaffirms World War II’s legacy of defending sovereignty and serves as a future deterrent against forceful invasions of neighbors – a principle Russia has violated. History will need to grapple with the United States’ troubling shift from championing Ukrainian freedom to a more passive stance amid Russia’s aggression, seemingly prioritizing narrow economic interests over democratic values.

On this anniversary, the focus remains on Ukraine’s ongoing struggle and national unity in the face of Russia’s strategy to undermine morale, particularly through sustained attacks on energy infrastructure. They reached a crescendo this month in the coldest winter for years. Hurried repairs and back-up generators allowed Kyiv residents roughly two hours of light and heat a day. Some districts do without for weeks.  

For Ukrainians, nothing is normal. “Normal” is sleeping in subway stations and enduring hours-long bombardments of major cities like Kyiv and Kharkiv. Russia is now striking apartment buildings in previously untouched regions of western Ukraine. The country’s GDP has collapsed by roughly 40 percent. About six million people— mostly mothers and children — have been living abroad for three years. Husbands and fathers remain in the army, exhausted but unwilling to surrender. Russians, too, are weary. The early war-economy “high” has given way to fatigue, but dissent is impossible. Speaking out risks prison. In Kharkiv, Ukraine’s vibrant second city, all school classes have been re-located in underground bunkers. That is the atmosphere the Kremlin has created.

The adrenaline that fuelled Ukrainians’ first response to surprise attack from three directions in February 2022 has subsided, replaced by resilience, pride, and growing belief in Ukrainian invincibility. Humour and demonstration of attachment to life persist. People emerge from shelters in the day, even to join in impromptu raves outside, until the curfew and sirens send them down below earth again. 

This geopolitical moment calls to mind Benjamín Labatut’s remarkable novel When We Cease to Understand the World, which traces the limits of human comprehension in the face of disruptive forces. Something similar is happening in global politics. The world of foreign affairs, security, and economic interdependence is being reordered in ways we do not fully understand. And yet we cannot opt out of trying to make sense of it.

The greatest disruptor is Donald Trump. His eccentric, often erratic approach to America’s role in the world has left allies scrambling. The United States now seems to view itself as competing with every other country — including partners and traditional allies. The rest of us are left trying to interpret and adapt to this “new America.” As Bob Rae noted recently, the United States has become “unrecognizable.”

This is playing out most visibly in the back-channel “peace” initiatives now circulating between Trump envoys — real estate figures like Witkoff and Kushner — and Russian officials. Increasingly, these proposals resemble business deals rather than peace plans. They quietly discard the fundamental reality of Russia’s illegal and criminal invasion of Ukraine. These documents read like Russian drafts. There is no acknowledgement of wrongdoing. European and other allies are consigned by the US to an entirely reactive posture to US-Russia negotiation. We are entering uncharted territory.

What makes this moment particularly difficult is that one of Vladimir Putin’s longstanding aims has been to weaken the alignment between the United States and Europe. He could not fully achieve it on his own. Now the United States appears increasingly willing to do it for him. To their credit, European governments have — collectively — contributed more financial assistance to Ukraine’s defence than the United States. They, like Ukraine, have spent four years trying to keep Washington aligned and engaged. But when the centre of American foreign policy remains unpredictable, the strain shows.

Many have described this as a war of attrition; Ukraine’s former foreign minister Dmytro Kuleba has called it a “war of hope.” Both descriptions carry truth. But consider the numbers: after more than a million Russian casualties and fatalities, Moscow has gained only about one percent more territory than it controlled at the outset. It is an almost absurd calculus of devastation.

Meanwhile, Trump-aligned actors are entertaining deals with Kirill Dmitriev, head of Russia’s sovereign wealth fund — often described as a multibillion-dollar Putin slush fund. They are exploring new U.S.–Russia ventures in Arctic oil and gas, rare minerals, and other strategic sectors. These discussions appear tailored toward private commercial interests rather than any coherent foreign-policy framework.

Wars almost never end with sweeping grand bargains. They more often end with ceasefires or armistices, leaving the most contentious issues — territory, prisoners, displaced populations, abducted children — to be resolved later, or never. Korea and Cyprus offer painful examples. That kind of imperfect end state is one the world could accept. But Russia does not want the war to end. Putin still believes he is winning.

Ukrainians are exhausted by the war. The most tired are fighters at the front, in for the duration, given leave to see family for just two 15-day spells twice a year; separation from duty comes only from death or wounds. Approximately 70,000 Ukrainian soldiers have reportedly been killed in combat, with many more sustaining life-long injuries, including an estimated 100,000 who have lost limbs. 

What emerges from all of this is a world in which old assumptions — about the United States, about alliances, about deterrence — no longer hold in predictable ways. Ukrainians desperately want this criminal war against them to end, but will solidly reject the sort of surrender Trump seems to endorse. European democracies, and Canada, must support Ukraine in denying the first negotiated defeat since WW2 of a European democracy to an outside autocratic invader.

Today is a day for renewed commendation of the Ukrainian people, whose stand is ours, even more emphatically in the geo-political circumstances of global “rupture,” in Mark Carney’s widely-admired assessment. 

Slava Ukraini.

This original article was published in Open Canada in December 2025 and updated by the author in commemoration of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine.