Whatever it takes—Germany preparing to spend like never before
For the 1,106th day of a war that has made infrastructure a weapon and civilians its measure, Russian drones struck Odesa again — killing a 77-year-old woman and severing power, water, and heat from thousands. Yet even as the city endured its second consecutive night of darkness, the architecture of diplomacy was quietly assembling itself: Zelenskyy offered minerals for security, Germany pledged historic defense spending, and European foreign ministers spoke in the language of resolve. War and negotiation have rarely coexisted so visibly, each proceeding on its own track, each shaping the other.
- A 77-year-old woman was killed by shrapnel in Odesa as Russian drones struck the city's outskirts for the second night running, destroying power lines, water systems, and heating networks across entire neighborhoods.
- The strikes are not aberrations but a grinding rhythm — apartment buildings near Kyiv, a sanatorium south of Odesa, fires in outlying districts — infrastructure as the deliberate target, warmth and water as the weapon withheld.
- Zelenskyy, facing the shock of Trump's suspended military aid, pivoted toward negotiation — offering US access to Ukrainian mineral wealth and declaring readiness to come to the table 'as soon as possible.'
- European capitals moved in concert: Britain's defence minister flew to Washington, David Lammy worked the phones across five allied nations, and Germany's incoming chancellor invoked a 'whatever it takes' pledge that recalled the euro crisis — this time aimed at rearmament.
- The shape of a settlement is becoming visible, but its terms remain contested — and in Odesa, thousands still have no heat, no water, and one fewer neighbor.
On the evening of March 4th, Russian drones struck Odesa for the second consecutive day. A 77-year-old woman was killed by shrapnel on the city's outskirts, while power lines, water systems, and heating networks were torn apart, leaving entire neighborhoods without essential services. Regional governor Oleh Kiper reported fires across outlying districts and a missile strike that destroyed an empty sanatorium near Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi. Further north, drones hit an apartment building near Boryspil, east of Kyiv, shattering windows and sparking a business fire — no deaths, but the damage was immediate and visible. The war had reached its 1,106th day.
Yet something was shifting in the diplomatic register. Facing the abrupt suspension of US military aid under Donald Trump, President Zelenskyy moved toward negotiation — announcing a peace plan, praising Trump's 'strong leadership,' and offering Washington something tangible: access to Ukraine's mineral wealth. The message was a calculated exchange — resources for resumed support. 'I am ready to come to the negotiating table as soon as possible,' he said.
Europe responded with unusual coordination. British Prime Minister Starmer called Zelenskyy to affirm support, while Defence Minister Healey prepared to meet US Secretary Hegseth in Washington. Foreign Minister Lammy had already spoken with counterparts across France, Germany, Poland, Italy, and Spain. 'We will step up — together,' he said.
Germany's signal was perhaps the most striking. Friedrich Merz, poised to become chancellor, announced an unprecedented defense and infrastructure spending package and pushed for fast-track approval of a stalled €3 billion aid package for Ukraine. Economists called it a 'sea change' — a historically debt-cautious country preparing to spend with the urgency of a crisis. The comparison to Draghi's 2012 'whatever it takes' was not accidental.
The contrast held its own weight. In Odesa, an elderly woman was dead and thousands sat in the cold without water or light. In the capitals of Europe and across the Atlantic, the conversation had moved — haltingly, imperfectly — from how to sustain the fight to how to end it, and on whose terms.
On the evening of March 4th, Russian drones struck Odesa again. A 77-year-old woman was killed by shrapnel as the strikes tore through the southern port city's outskirts. The attack damaged critical infrastructure—power lines, water systems, heating networks—leaving entire neighborhoods without electricity, running water, or warmth for the second consecutive day. Regional governor Oleh Kiper reported that fragments from intercepted drones had also struck private homes and ignited fires across outlying districts. South of the city, near Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi, a missile destroyed an empty sanatorium. The pattern was familiar: infrastructure as target, civilians as collateral.
The same day, drones hit further north. Near Boryspil, east of Kyiv, they struck a multi-storey apartment building, shattering windows and setting a business fire. Local officials said no one died, though the damage was visible and immediate. These were not isolated incidents but part of the grinding rhythm of the war—now in its 1,106th day.
But something else was shifting. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, facing the reality of Donald Trump's abrupt suspension of military aid to Ukraine, moved toward negotiation. He announced a peace plan and signaled willingness to work "constructively" under what he called Trump's "strong leadership." More concretely, he offered something Washington might want: access to Ukrainian mineral wealth. The message was clear—Ukraine would trade resources for security, or at least for resumed support. "I would like to reiterate Ukraine's commitment to peace," Zelenskyy said on Tuesday, adding he was "ready to come to the negotiating table as soon as possible."
The diplomatic machinery began turning. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer called Zelenskyy to affirm support, emphasizing that "all parties" needed to work toward "a lasting and secure peace for Ukraine as soon as possible." The language was careful, measured. Britain's Defence Minister John Healey was scheduled to meet US Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth in Washington on Thursday to discuss a peace framework. British Foreign Minister David Lammy had already spoken to counterparts in France, Germany, Poland, Italy, and Spain. The Europeans, he said, remained "determined" to strike a deal. "We will step up and we are stepping up—together."
Germany, meanwhile, was preparing its own signal. Friedrich Merz, the likely next chancellor, announced that his CDU/CSU party and the Social Democrats would propose an unprecedented defense spending package—billions in euros for both military and infrastructure. More immediately, Merz wanted fast-track approval for a €3 billion aid package for Ukraine that had been stalled for weeks. Economist Holger Schmieding of Berenberg bank called it a "sea change" for Germany, a country historically cautious about large public debts. Merz's promise of "whatever it takes" echoed Mario Draghi's famous 2012 pledge during Europe's sovereign debt crisis. The comparison was apt: this was Germany preparing to spend like it had never spent before, at least in recent memory.
The contrast was stark. In Odesa, an elderly woman lay dead from shrapnel wounds. Thousands were without heat or water as winter lingered. Yet in the capitals of Europe and across the Atlantic, the conversation had shifted from how to sustain the fight to how to end it—and on what terms. Zelenskyy was offering minerals. Germany was offering money. Trump held the key to American military support. The war continued, but the shape of the negotiation was becoming visible.
Notable Quotes
I would like to reiterate Ukraine's commitment to peace. I am ready to come to the negotiating table as soon as possible.— President Zelenskyy
It was vital that all parties worked towards a lasting and secure peace for Ukraine as soon as possible.— British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, in call with Zelenskyy
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would Zelenskyy offer mineral access to the US now, when Ukraine has been fighting for three years?
Because Trump cut off military aid. When your lifeline depends on one person's decision, you negotiate with what you have. Minerals are leverage.
Is this a sign Ukraine is losing?
It's a sign Ukraine is adapting to a new political reality. The fighting hasn't stopped—people are still dying in Odesa. But the calculus has changed.
What does Germany's spending pledge actually mean?
It means Europe is preparing to carry more of the burden if American support becomes conditional or unreliable. Merz is essentially saying: we'll fund this ourselves if we have to.
Can you actually negotiate peace while drones are still killing civilians?
That's the contradiction at the heart of this moment. Yes, people are dying. Yes, infrastructure is being destroyed. But diplomacy doesn't wait for the fighting to stop—it happens alongside it.
Who has the most leverage in these talks?
Trump, clearly. Everyone else is trying to shape what he decides. Zelenskyy is offering him something tangible. Europe is showing it won't abandon Ukraine. But Trump's next move determines everything.