Ukrainians Are Resilient—But They Still Need Washington

Even as missiles fall on Ukraine and troops brace for a Russian spring offensive from the east, Kyiv is looking west. The U.S. congressional fight over aid to Ukraine, entangled as it is with border policy and presidential politics, has become a matter of survival for 43 million Ukrainians. In more than two years of war, Russian President Vladimir Putin has not broken Ukrainian will. Abandonment by the United States could achieve what Putin never has.

This month, I made a 1300-mile trip around Ukraine as part of a delegation hosted by the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). We visited Kyiv and Odesa as well as Dnipro, Kharkiv, and other places farther east. The situation on the ground is changing, and U.S. political leaders should understand the enormous stakes. Those now debating the fate of assistance to Ukraine are deliberating over the fate of Ukraine itself.

The first thing that strikes a visitor to wartime in Ukraine is how remarkably normal life seems in many areas. Normal, that is, until the signs of war creep in—gradually and then suddenly.

Odesa’s elegantly beautiful theater remains open, and operas and shows go on. (Giuseppe Verdi’s Nabucco and Franco Alfano and Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot played a few days after our visit.) Yet the city was under an air alert as we arrived, and a walk along the seaside promenade revealed coiled barbed wire at each staircase.

In a mostly unheralded success, Ukraine has cleared the Black Sea coast of Russian warships—despite having a tiny navy with no warships of its own—and now exports grain from Odesa at near prewar levels. Ships load grain and skirt the coast as they head west, staying away from Russian predation. Outside the city, soldiers man roadside checkpoints to examine the papers of draft-age men.

In a town that we visited in Kherson Oblast, which suffered under Russian occupation until late 2022, virtually every building was damaged. Missile strikes, mortar fire, and machine guns took a serious toll. Many inhabitants fled the fighting, joining either the 6.5 million Ukrainian refugees outside the country or the 3.7 million displaced inside it. UNHCR and other aid agencies are assisting those who remained and others who have returned. Some never will.

We met one man in the town who stayed through it all. “It’s like you see on TV in America,” he said. “You know when there’s a hurricane and someone says, ‘It’s my home, I’m not leaving?’ That was me.”

The biggest problem, he said, were soldiers from the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics, the puppet governments set up in the regions by Moscow. Often drunk, the soldiers looted houses, hassled people, and carted home everything they could. A local official said that Russian troops had established multiple torture centers during the occupation.

The man’s son, a tall 15-year-old with a grin and the taciturn bearing of a teenage boy, described life before and after the Russians came. Did he miss the way things were before the war? Yes, he said: “Some of my acquaintances have passed away.”

Downtown Dnipro could pass for Vancouver or Boston, with its illuminated streets, pedestrian areas, fine restaurants, and high-end boutiques. Couples dine, families stroll at night, and the stores are stocked. Yet the war wasn’t far away during our visit; an air alert awakened us early in the morning. As our phone alerts went off and air raid sirens sounded, we headed to the shelter. Russia launched more than 60 drones and missiles at Ukraine that day, some of which made it to Kyiv. The attack set a large apartment building on fire in the capital and killed four people. Two days later, we would visit this site, where the rebuilding had already begun.

Kharkiv, Ukraine’s second-largest city, has emerged as an epicenter of recent Russian military activity. Most students there are relegated to online learning, since their schools lack the shelters necessary to protect against air attacks. More than 2,000 children go to class underground in subway stations. We visited one of these subway schools, watching fourth graders solve math problems and work on projects. Play areas took up space at the backs of classrooms. I wish members of the U.S. Congress could see the effects of Russia’s two-year war on the country and witness Ukrainian resilience in the face of relentless attack.

Ukrainians are resilient but not invincible. They see bombed-out buildings, awaken to air alert sirens each night, and feel Moscow’s newfound confidence on the battlefield. They know that last year’s counteroffensive produced few gains, and that Avdiivka’s recent fall marks Russia’s first significant territorial gain since May 2023. Diminishing supplies of ammunition and other Western-provided weapons have made the war more difficult and more costly in terms of Ukrainian lives.

Yet most wish to fight on. Polls show a small but growing number of Ukrainians wishing to trade land for peace, if such an outcome is possible. The majority wish to continue the fight. They watched Putin’s interview with Tucker Carlson and saw the Russian president’s insistence on their country’s historic artificiality. They know, from the atrocities that have occurred in Bucha and elsewhere, what Russian occupation might mean. They see the war as a fight for survival.

Ukrainians also know, however, that they cannot keep it up alone. They quietly observe that European aid (generous though it is) won’t be sufficient, either. In Kyiv, officials follow every twist and turn of the $60 billion earmarked for Ukraine in a proposed supplemental aid package from the United States. It’s a large amount of money, equivalent to roughly 7 percent of the U.S. Defense Department’s annual budget, and combines military, humanitarian, and budget support. Ukraine’s future turns greatly on it.

U.S. missile defense currently protects Ukrainian cities, and officials worry about the violence that Russia will unleash if U.S. interceptors stop arriving. Front-line Ukrainian troops are running out of ammunition, and declining access to military equipment could allow Russia to take more territory. Even factoring in the latest European aid package, Ukrainian officials (and those at the U.S. Treasury Department) project empty government coffers within months, rendering them unable to pay worker salaries or pensions. Their fallback plan is to print more money, fully understanding the disastrous hyperinflation such a move would produce.

In the meantime, U.S. humanitarian aid provides food, shelter, medical care, and other support for a traumatized population that nevertheless wishes to carry on.

Beyond material support, my visit made clear that the psychological effect of global solidarity, especially from the United States, remains vital. In conversations with everyone, from the top of government to citizens living just miles from the front lines, there was one message: Please stay with us—we can’t do this alone. U.S. abandonment would be devastating.

There is a lot of trouble in the world today, some of it far closer to home for Washington than places such as Dnipro, Kharkiv, and Kherson. A poll conducted in February by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs and Ipsos found that a majority of Americans continue to support helping Ukraine, as do majorities in both houses of Congress. Yet two years in, and after billions of aid has already been delivered, Americans might reasonably ask why more, and why now.

Calls to defend the rules-based international order tend to provoke eye-rolling derision these days. So too do descriptions of the United States’ indispensability in the face of global problems. Yet the prohibition against forcible conquest stands at the heart of the postwar global order. Putin’s violation of that taboo—if ultimately successful—would augur a new and more dangerous era. The United States, unfashionable though it may be to observe, is indispensable in resisting it.

Ultimately, Ukraine is fighting a shift from order to the law of the jungle, where the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must. In a world awash with trouble, and with huge demands on U.S. resources, the stakes in Ukraine remain very high—and perhaps unique. The alternative to continued Western support is not an indefinite stalemate or frozen conflict. It is a potential Russian victory.

This is the context in which today’s debate should take place. It’s clear on the ground: Ukrainian will to resist aggression is remarkable, but it remains inextricably linked to U.S. support and solidarity. If the United States abandons Ukraine, then the West may well accomplish the very thing that Putin has thus far found impossible.