On Ukraine’s third independence day at war, what does the future hold for its people? Our panel’s verdict

When the new Russian assault on Ukraine’s northern Kharkiv region began in May I travelled there to see how it was coping. Everywhere I saw billboards portraying firefighters and communal workers on duty, with the slogan “Kharkiv invincible”. Residents were angry about the bombs falling on their heads, but alongside fear there was grim optimism and determination.
I spoke with Oleksandr Solomashchenko, whose organisation had helped 3,000 evacuees escape the new frontline areas. Usually cheerful and energetic, Solomashchenko couldn’t stop crying, recalling a family with a child with disabilities who were reluctant to accept his help and make the journey out of the area. It occurred to me that being invincible doesn’t mean not feeling pain, or not being hurt. Solomashchenko’s emotions symbolise the many Ukrainians who take pride in how strong and resilient they are, but at this stage of the war are not ashamed to cry and admit we are also vulnerable and tired.
Returning to Kharkiv this week, I found the town more secure and in a better mood, with people escaping the summer heat in local parks. Despite ongoing fighting nearby, there are fewer guided bombs sent to Kharkiv these days.
The Kursk offensive has changed things. For the first time, the battle has moved on to Russian soil – and has shown it is not invincible. It has raised morale among the Ukrainian population. A simple chat with a few soldiers confirms this.
But for Ukrainians it is not the mood but the practical impact of this incursion that matters: for instance, the fact that destroying bridges in the Kursk region may slow Russian resources flowing into Ukraine.
The summer of 2024 was extremely hard, as Moscow managed to partly destroy Ukraine’s power grid. It is hard to find a friend or colleague who would admit that after the summer holidays they feel well rested and less tired.
As the now missing-in-action Ukrainian artist and soldier Yuri Stetskyk said, “The war is not the end of life, but long and hard work.” Ukrainians treat the war as hard and necessary work, just as a firefighter or a surgeon wouldn’t stop a rescue operation or a surgery just because they were tired. Beyond strategic military gains, the Kursk offensive is seen as an important accomplishment that helps Ukrainians to keep breathing, to use the moment to redistribute resources and to put at least some burden of the war on the shoulders of the Russian troops.
In one of the boldest manoeuvres since Russia’s full-scale invasion, the Ukrainian armed forces breached Russia’s Kursk region, seizing a significant stretch of territory with striking ease. It took Moscow nearly two weeks to mobilise enough conscripts to slow Ukraine’s momentum. But the damage is done, and the message is unmistakable: the meticulously orchestrated operation blindsided Vladimir Putin. Once again, Russia’s FSB security service, the linchpin of his power, faltered.
That the FSB has not lived up to its portrayals in Hollywood thrillers is not surprising. In authoritarian regimes, the ascension of cadres is dictated by loyalty, not talent. What’s more telling – and bodes favourably for Ukraine – is that Putin appears to have learned little from the war’s earlier miscalculations. His hubris remains intact, and he continues to navigate this conflict as though blindfolded.
The Kursk operation exposed how much of Russia’s defence strategy hinges on the west’s fear of escalation. Each breach of Russia’s so-called “red lines” – be it tanks, planes or missiles – reveals Moscow’s threats as hollow. Even Putin seems to recognise that his nuclear sabre-rattling has lost its bite.
Domestically, Putin may appear invulnerable. His political opponents are dead, exiled or imprisoned. Yet, as western-donated tanks roll into Russia, Putin is living his nightmare. Once venerated as the master strategist who reclaimed Crimea with hardly a shot fired, he now risks his legacy being reduced to having blundered into a bloody quagmire. His FSB lieutenants may stand by him, their fates tied, but in terms of military strategy he is running out of options.
Further mobilisations are yielding diminishing returns. The rumoured shift of command to trusted confidants and the ongoing military purges are unlikely to improve Russia’s battlefield standing. After all, fixers make poor generals. In classic Russian fashion, Putin’s last hope may be luck, but fate favours the prepared. And Ukraine has taken that lesson to heart.
When Russia began its full-fledged invasion of Ukraine, it was difficult to imagine that the war would still be here two and a half years later. For all the death and destruction we have seen, the frontlines have barely moved in that time.
As the fighting continues and even intensifies, prospects for peace seem remote. The well known dictum that all wars end in a negotiated peace obscures a more complex reality. Wars can – and often do – end with one side losing, and negotiations, even if they get under way, can last for years. What matters in these situations is each side’s resilience, and each government’s ability to cope with domestic pressures to sue for peace.
Vladimir Putin is confident that he can continue the war, and is in no hurry to begin negotiations. Part of this is simply hubris, unshattered even after Kursk. Part of this is calculation. Having invested himself so heavily in this war, Putin may feel that he has little to lose. He has already expended a lot of blood and treasure. He has exposed Russia to western sanctions that are unlikely to go away. He is eager to collect the dividends that will help justify these horrendous costs to the Russian people.
And while he has not been very good at waging war, let’s be fair, he has succeeded brilliantly at brainwashing and has lined up much of the Russian public behind his militant imperialism.
One often hears that Putin is waiting for the outcome of the US elections, or that he hopes Donald Trump – if elected – will abandon Ukraine. In fact, what Putin mostly benefits from is the general policy paralysis of the kind we witnessed in the recent congressional debates over Ukraine aid. What he benefits from is the uncertainly among Europeans, who are still looking over their shoulders to see what the US will or will not do about Ukraine.
Europe itself is hopelessly divided between those who have the ambition to take a more forceful stand on Ukraine, but perhaps not the means to do so (eg, the Baltic states and Poland), and those who have the means but clearly not the ambition (eg Germany). These kinds of divisions play into Putin’s hands and contribute to his determination to take all he can carry in Ukraine.
Volodymyr Zelenskiy understands Putin’s game, and by ordering the recent incursion into Kursk probably hopes not just to raise flagging Ukrainian morale but to turn the tables on the Russians and force them, at last, to negotiate. He needs to show that he too, like Putin, can continue this war for as long as it takes.
They can’t both be right.
Yet another delay in the delivery of military aid from our allies has made me wonder whether some of these hold-ups are deliberate. The war is dragging on. For the third time, Ukraine must celebrate its independence day under fire from rockets and drones, glued to reports from the frontlines of the Russian-Ukrainian war.
There is a heavy sense of total slowdown. It seems impossible to imagine any dynamic action – anything that could suddenly bring a halt to this war or radically change its course for the better.
Ukrainian forces are advancing in Kursk region, promising to leave when the time comes. The Russian army is advancing in the Donbas, but it will not voluntarily abandon any captured territories, at least not until there is regime change in Moscow.
For a brief moment, the flare of the Kursk operation brought Ukrainian society to life, but already we are again frozen in tense observation of the Russian army’s advances in the east.
Nonetheless, morale remains firm. There is no depression or despair. Ukrainians who have chosen to stay in their country are hopeful of a positive outcome to the war. They may be wary of the concept of “victory” and the “complete liberation of occupied territories”, and yet, if asked, patriotic self-censorship will stifle any doubts about an eventual win for Ukraine.
Each Ukrainian resists the enemy with whatever they can – the military with weapons, civilians with a stubborn faith in victory. A faith that turns independence day into an almost religious festival.
Before the war, independence day seemed to be for many – including myself – a much more formal occasion organised by the state for the media more than for the people. Although each time there were major and politically challenging events, such as the Orange revolution, the significance of the day would become greater. Now it is definitely the day for all Ukrainians to think and to care about.