By all accounts, Ukraine is heading towards defeat. The 28-point peace plan floated by America, revised by Europe, and eventually rejected by Russia is simply the latest indicator of its declining fortune. Even as the terms of the peace plan amount to a de facto territorial division last seen in the 1930s, it barely made news in the international media as the cheerleaders of Ukraine found themselves increasingly isolated, losing support within their own constituencies. Yet all these could have been avoided; Ukraine had at least three opportunities of ending this war in a far better position.
The first opportunity was in the early weeks of the war. After Russia announced the “special military operation” against Ukraine on 24th Feb 2022, the world expected a swift Ukrainian defeat. In fact, the phrase “taking Kyiv in 3 days” is most likely based on America’s military assessment before the war. And if the Russian VDV, the elite Airborne assault forces, had managed to secure the Antonov airport in the first 24 hours of the conflict, the war could have ended quickly. However, against all odds, Ukraine did manage to organize a desperate defense using NATO military equipment and intelligence support that prevented the destruction of its anti-air defense. Crucially, most Ukrainian forces evaded Russian encirclements and managed to fortify major cities like Kharkiv. As more Ukrainian reserves were mobilized, it was clear that Ukraine had survived for another fight.
This created the greatest window of opportunity for Ukraine to end this war on better terms. Ukraine should have declared a full mobilization, which conscripted all its military-aged males. Although Zelensky did declare General Mobilization and prohibited men aged 18–60 from leaving the country, the mobilization orders were only carried out half-heartedly: hundreds of thousands of military-aged Ukrainian men fled the country, and the declaration of building a “million-men” army remained on paper. Despite claiming to mobilize more than 700,000 men by mid-2022, the frontline troops were fewer than 150,000. This mistake cost Ukraine dearly. Since then, Ukraine’s mobilization had become increasingly difficult as desertion rate rises, and its manpower shortage is collapsing its fragile frontlines.
The classic explanation—lack of supplies and insufficient training capacity, is a convenient excuse. Ukraine had spent years preparing for a Russian attack after losing Crimea in 2014. It had experienced soldiers and full NATO backing. Its leadership understood that the early weeks of the war represented the peak moment of patriotic fervor, when tens of thousands volunteered for service. This enthusiasm would inevitably fade as the war dragged on. And yet they hesitated, for reasons tied directly to their own political interests.
Despite their rhetoric and actions that provoked Russia into the war, Ukraine’s leadership never thought they could win a military victory over Russia. The entire premise of their supposed victory is based on a stalled Russian invasion, a costly occupation, and international sanctions that could turn the Russian civilian population into an uprising. The goal has always been regime change in Moscow. Under this mental framework, Ukraine simply has to hold on as long as possible to turn the war into another Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Yet, in reality, this naivety cost Ukraine dearly, its secular society can never have the supranatural religious zeal in engaging in hopeless struggles. Once the opportune moment for mobilization passed, it will be gone forever.
Most importantly, mobilization for military recruitment had severe political consequences for Ukraine. Had Ukraine suffered a defeat, the mobilized men would almost certainly have overthrown the current Ukrainian leadership for incompetence. Even worse, had Ukraine achieved a defensive victory using these mobilized men, the soldiers would be crowned as heroes and would be demanding greater political participation. This was the greatest fear of the Ukrainian elites. They understood more than anyone that their source of legitimacy, which is the so-called “Revolution of Dignity” in 2014, is an immense disappointment. They came to power promising to cleanse corruption but proved to be far more corrupt than those they replaced. Nothing exemplifies the astronomical corruption more than when Petro Poroshenko invited Georgia’s former president Mikhail Saakashvili, who had fought another disastrous war against Russia in 2008, to become the governor of Odessa. The two men soon fell out, with Saakashvili staging a spectacular escape. The corruption is so widespread that Zelensky himself, who was voted in as the “anti-corruption candidate” in 2019, is also embroiled in the investigation. This is perhaps why even before the Russian invasion, Ukrainians are expressing widespread disappointment. Despite presence of so many Western NGO dedicated to fight corruption and wholesale Westernization of the judiciary, Ukraine is far from qualified to join the EU. In this regard, if ordinary Ukrainian people were empowered to play an instrumental role in its survival, the days of the Ukrainian establishment would surely be numbered.
This had happened before. In 2004, Ukrainians placed their hopes in the Orange Revolution, which erupted after allegations that the victorious candidate, Viktor Yanukovych, had committed fraud, prompting a rerun of the election. The new leadership under Viktor Yushchenko (the president) and Yulia Tymoshenko (prime minister) quickly fell into infighting, corruption and oligarchic influence on politics continued if not strengthened. The broken promises were enough for the public to vote Viktor Yanukovych—target of that revolution—back into office, before he was removed again by the Maidan protests in 2014.
The Ukrainian elites feared that this cycle would repeat: a battle-hardened, politically awakened population demanding accountability. Their power structure would be overturned once the war ended. After all, after decades of Western political manipulation, Ukraine’s political elites have ceased to serve the interests of Ukrainian people, the goal is to be the proxy for the highest bidder.
The second lost opportunity is rejecting the Istanbul peace talks in spring 2022. The Istanbul framework, despite all its imperfections, would allow Ukraine to preserve its security like Finland in the Cold War. Ukraine would commit not to join NATO (it cannot join anyway given the territorial disputes like Georgia), but it would retain the overwhelming majority of its territory. Disputed regions could be frozen, as in Korea or Cyprus, and there would be no international recognition of Donbass People’s Republics or Crimea under Russia. While Ukraine’s military would be capped, it would only cap the types of weapons it could possess; there wouldn’t be a 600,000 man limit as seen in the 28 points peace plan. But Western officials like Boris Johnson gave assurances that Ukraine could be won outright, that Crimea could be retaken with Western military support. Those assurances created a false expectation, nudging Ukraine away from a pragmatic deal and toward goals it could not realistically achieve.
Ukraine’s third lost opportunity came after its Kharkiv counterattack in 2022. Utilizing an element of surprise and superior manpower, the offensive reduced Russian-controlled territory from more than 30% to 17%. This was an ideal moment for a ceasefire, because it was the moment of Ukraine’s maximum leverage. According to Chairman of U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, Russian forces would not be ejected from remaining territories easily. The military implication of this assessment is clear: maneuver warfare in Ukraine is over, and a war of attrition, which favors Russia due to its larger population, would begin. If Ukraine delayed the peace offer, the situation would only deteriorate.
Instead, Kyiv refused to recognize this sober assessment, declaring that the war would not end until it reclaimed the 1991 border. Western governments echoed this position, downplaying the Russian mobilization that would change the balance of power. In retrospect, the Ukrainian leadership fell into an information bubble, convinced the war was purely a Kremlin imperialist project hated by the Russian people. But for Russians, the war had by then become existential. Thanks to West’s years of demonization on Russia and neglect of its legitimate security concerns even from the most pro-western figures like Gorbachev regarding the utter treachery of NATO expansion, Russians across the political spectrum were convinced that the war in Ukraine must be won. Soon, the 300,000 mobilized Russian soldiers stabilized the frontlines for a long war.
After missing these opportunities, one could thought that Ukraine could engage in comprehensive strategic introspection. Yet, it continues to dig itself deeper in strategic catastrophes. Since 2022, Ukraine had also made three major military mistakes in the course of the war.
First was its decision to take Kherson. After Kharkiv, Ukraine concentrated on Kherson. At first glance, this direction seemed attractive. Russian forces in the city relied heavily on resupply across the Dnipro River, which is vulnerable to attack by HIMARS rockets. Ukraine eventually retook the city after suffering heavy losses. However, the Russian VDV guarding the city retreated intact and were redeployed in Donbas after leaving Kherson. This made Ukraine’s offensive in Donbas hard to sustain, petering out after retaking Lyman in Donetsk. Ukraine should have maintained harassment of Russian forces in Kherson to force them to hold the city; the move would have stretched their logistics and diluted their forces on other fronts. The city could always be retaken later, given its logistical vulnerability.
The Battle of Bakhmut was Ukraine’s next great blunder. Bakhmut inflicted enormous casualties on Russian forces, particularly Wagner Group fighters. Ukrainian defenders achieved what military theory calls “economy of force”—holding a city with relatively fewer resources while inflicting higher losses. But the Ukrainian command eventually committed too much to the defense, pouring in elite units and reserves, especially after March 2023 when the city’s fall looked inevitable. As a consequence, precious troops that could have been committed to training for the later counteroffensive were diverted. Ukraine’s decision to reinforce the city until May appears political. It aimed to inflict heavy losses on Wagner so as to create a rift between the mercenary group and Russia’s Ministry of Defense. However, when the bizarre Wagner coup attempt occurred in June, Ukraine failed to capitalize on it and allowed Russia to further consolidate its military.
The greatest military misstep, however, was the 2023 counteroffensive. Ukraine’s planned counteroffensive centered around attacking through Zaporizhzhia and reaching the Azov Sea. The outcome would have been cutting Russian forces in Ukraine into two and isolating Crimea. But Russia knew this was coming because Ukraine gave the information away. It even made a trailer featuring a ground offensive on the Zaporizhian plains. As a result, by the time of the offensive, Russia had built dense fortifications—the “Surovikin Line”—complete with minefields, trenches, and anti-tank obstacles.
Meanwhile, Ukraine’s attacking forces faced severe difficulties. Its Western-trained brigades were understaffed, artillery shortages were severe, and air defenses were stretched across a vast front. Most importantly, Ukraine did not possess overwhelming air superiority. But Ukraine launched the operation anyway based on the assumption that Russian forces lacked the “will to fight” and would crumble once in contact. The result was a predictable failure. Ukraine’s Western tanks burned in the first week of the attack. Ukraine should have stopped there. Instead, it persisted for months, losing more precious equipment and irreplaceable soldiers while achieving minimal territorial gains.
The failed counteroffensive ended Ukraine’s expectation of victory. Its logical next step should have been adapting its military posture into negotiation and fighting for a better negotiating position. Yet here Ukraine continued to make mistakes.
As the war turned attritional, Ukraine should have begun to preserve manpower, build reserves, and prepare for offensive operations only when conditions were optimal. Yet Ukraine did not do this. Instead of waiting two or three years to rebuild a fresh force capable of a deep, decisive strike—similar to how Croatia prepared before Operation Storm in the Yugoslav Wars—Ukraine launched major attacks into Kursk less than a year after the failed 2023 offensive. It also expended men to maintain the Krynky bridgehead and continued to threaten the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant. These efforts diverted resources, inflicted limited tactical damage, and sacrificed equipment that Ukraine could not replace. None of these operations contributed to weakening the core of Russia’s military. Ukraine’s incursion into Kursk has arguably had the opposite effect, further galvanizing the Russians into joining the military and facilitating the growing Russian–North Korean partnership.
Ukraine also failed to seriously develop an organized guerrilla movement behind enemy lines. While Ukrainian special services carried out covert attacks using NATO intelligence support on Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, sabotage of refineries, drone attacks deep inside Russia that crippled strategic bombers, and high-profile assassinations, these actions lacked a coherent insurgency strategy. They did not demoralize Russian forces occupying Ukrainian territories, nor did they turn Ukrainian civilians under occupation into uprisings. Instead, attacks inside Russia hardened Russian public opinion, strengthened the Kremlin’s narrative of fighting a defensive war, and accelerated the modernization of Russia’s air defenses and internal security apparatus.
As the war dragged on, Ukraine’s lack of a coherent strategy became clear. Its plan rested upon increasing delusions. Hitting Russia harder, the thinking went, might trigger an economic collapse. Perhaps Russian people might rise up. Perhaps Western intervention would escalate. But these hopes did not materialize. Russia adapted into a war economy; the dynamics within Russia became decisively pro-war. The Russian public will only punish leaders who stop the war too early.
Today, Ukraine is struggling not only with dwindling ammunition but with something even more dangerous: faltering political will. As losses mount and the perception of eventual defeat grows, fewer Ukrainian citizens are willing to fight. If Ukraine refuses to accept a negotiated peace soon, it risks facing a far worse scenario. Over the next three to five years, Ukraine could face a breakdown in manpower and lead to major Russian breakthroughs. Should that occur, Russia will almost certainly demand more territory than its current gains. The Ukrainian state, as defined since 1991, could shrink drastically—possibly reduced to a landlocked remnant without access to the sea. The war is set to be remembered as a cautionary tale, not only about how states like Ukraine got sabotaged by its illusion towards the West, but that many of the opportunities to avoid this outcome once existed.
Editor: Charriot Zhai
