They are losing the initiative each day, day by day
More than four years into the largest European conflict since the Second World War, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has begun to speak of daylight — not victory, but a turning of the tide. Speaking to The Guardian in London, he described a battlefield where Russian advances have stalled, Russian casualties have become unsustainable, and Russian influence across the continent continues to erode. The war has not softened its cruelty — eighteen civilians, including a child of three, died in a single week of Russian aerial bombardment — yet Zelenskyy's measured optimism reflects a deeper truth: that initiative, once lost, is rarely easily recovered.
- Ukraine's long-range drones have reached St Petersburg itself, setting oil terminals ablaze in Putin's home city while choking Crimea's supply lines with burning fuel convoys.
- Russia is absorbing more than 30,000 casualties every month — a rate Zelenskyy calls unsustainable — even as its missiles and cluster munitions continue to kill civilians in Kyiv and Dnipro.
- Putin flatly rejected Zelenskyy's written proposal for direct talks, restating territorial demands and ordering his forces to press on, leaving diplomacy at a standstill.
- Ukraine is pressing European allies — Britain, France, Germany — to help build an alternative to the American Patriot missile system, offering its battlefield-forged drone expertise as currency.
- Russia's political orbit is contracting: Orbán lost in Hungary, Kremlin-backed candidates failed in Moldova and Armenia, and Washington's attention has drifted toward Iran.
Volodymyr Zelenskyy arrived in London carrying something rare for a wartime leader: cautious optimism. Speaking to The Guardian, he described the military situation as the most promising it had been in two and a half years. Russia, he said, was not yet losing the war — but it was losing the initiative, day by day.
The evidence was recent and tangible. Ukrainian drones had struck oil terminals in St Petersburg and severed supply routes across Crimea. On the eastern front, Russia's grinding advance had nearly halted. Zelenskyy cited monthly Russian casualties exceeding 30,000 — killed and severely wounded — as evidence of an attrition the Kremlin could not sustain indefinitely.
The war, however, had not relented in its brutality. A single Russian assault the previous Tuesday deployed 73 missiles and 656 drones. Eighteen people died in Kyiv and Dnipro, among them a three-year-old boy pulled from the rubble of his apartment building. Russia was deliberately using cluster munitions in civilian areas, according to Kyiv's mayor.
Zelenskyy had written directly to Putin proposing face-to-face talks. Putin's answer, delivered at an economic forum in St Petersburg, was dismissal — the letter was rude, he said, and his territorial demands remained unchanged. Zelenskyy reflected on whether Putin was delusional or simply deceived by his own commanders, then set the question aside. The lying, he said, had always been the point — a social glue holding together competing factions within Russia.
Beyond the battlefield, Russia's political standing had deteriorated. Viktor Orbán was defeated in Hungary's elections. Pro-Kremlin candidates failed in Moldova and Armenia. American attention had shifted toward Iran. Zelenskyy praised U.S. diplomatic efforts while noting, with quiet regret, that Ukraine had never received the scale of support Washington extended to its confrontation with Tehran.
Ukraine had meanwhile transformed into what Zelenskyy called a drone superpower — a nation that had turned necessity into expertise. What it needed most now was the Patriot air defense system, capable of intercepting the ballistic missiles falling on sleeping cities. Meeting with Starmer, Merz, and Macron at Downing Street, Zelenskyy proposed a European-built alternative and offered Ukraine's hard-won knowledge of drone warfare in return. 'This is priceless information,' he said.
His definition of victory was not territorial but psychological: the moment Russian society — in Moscow, in St Petersburg — recognizes the war as a tragedy visited upon themselves. He believed that moment was approaching. Before leaving for an audience with King Charles, he smiled and said he hoped to invite the king to Kyiv before the year was out. 'Ukraine loves his majesty,' he said.
Volodymyr Zelenskyy sat across from The Guardian in London with the bearing of a man who has begun to see daylight. More than four years into Russia's full-scale invasion—the largest European conflict since 1945—Ukraine's president carried an unmistakable optimism about the direction of the war. The military situation, he said, had not been this promising in two and a half years. "We can't say Russia is losing this war," he offered carefully. "But we can say they are losing the initiative each day, day by day."
The evidence he pointed to was concrete and recent. Over the preceding week, Ukrainian long-range drones had struck St Petersburg itself, igniting oil terminals and sending plumes of smoke across Putin's home city. Crimea, seized by Russia in 2014, had been similarly hammered. A critical supply road lay choked with burning trucks and tankers. Fuel shortages now gripped the peninsula. On the eastern battlefield, where Russia had ground forward relentlessly for months, the advance had nearly stalled. Zelenskyy cited casualty figures that, if accurate, painted a picture of unsustainable attrition: the Kremlin was losing more than 30,000 soldiers each month, with 23,000 to 24,000 killed and the remainder severely wounded. He suggested the true number might be even higher. "This is a very big number," he said. "It means that they are not winning the war."
Yet the war itself had not stopped destroying. Russia had intensified its aerial assault on Ukrainian towns and cities in recent months, apparently aiming to terrorize the civilian population. A single attack the previous Tuesday had involved 73 missiles and 656 drones. In Kyiv and Dnipro, eighteen people died, among them a three-year-old boy buried beneath the rubble of an apartment building. According to Kyiv's mayor, Russia was deliberately deploying cluster munitions in populated areas. The human cost remained staggering even as the military momentum shifted.
Zelenskyy had written an open letter to Putin the week before, proposing a face-to-face meeting to wind down the conflict. Putin's response, delivered at the St Petersburg economic forum, was a flat rejection. He called the letter rude and restated Russia's territorial demands: the Donbas region and two southern Ukrainian provinces. He told his forces to keep advancing. Some observers had begun to wonder whether Putin was delusional or receiving false information from his commanders. Zelenskyy acknowledged both possibilities but dismissed them as beside the point. "The reason he's lying doesn't matter," he said. Putin had lied about the war from the beginning, claiming he needed to seize Ukrainian land to rescue Russian speakers. These lies, Zelenskyy believed, functioned as a social adhesive, binding together different factions within Russian society.
Beyond the battlefield, Russia had suffered a series of political defeats. In April, Viktor Orbán—Putin's closest European ally—had been trounced in Hungary's general election. Recent Kremlin efforts to back pro-Moscow candidates in Moldova and Armenia had also failed. "They are losing influence in different countries," Zelenskyy observed. "They are isolated inside Europe and from the United States also. So they are alone." Donald Trump, who had begun his second term in 2025 promising to end the war, had shifted American focus toward the Middle East and Iran. Zelenskyy had praised U.S. diplomatic efforts despite the bruising encounters and aid cuts. "I always said to President Trump that Putin is lying," he told The Guardian. "He plays games with you, with the White House." Still, he acknowledged wistfully that Ukraine had never received the volume of support that the U.S. had poured into its conflict with Iran. "It's a pity," he said.
Ukraine had transformed itself into what Zelenskyy called a drone superpower. Once dependent on Western military aid, Kyiv had become a hub of military production and technical innovation. Arab nations had sought its help shooting down Iranian drones. The weapon Ukraine most desperately needed now was the American Patriot system—the only platform capable of intercepting Russian ballistic missiles that fell nightly on sleeping civilians. On Sunday, Zelenskyy had met in Downing Street with British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, and French President Emmanuel Macron. He had renewed his call for European allies to help "close" Ukraine's skies and had proposed that London, Paris, Berlin, and other EU states collaborate to build an alternative to the American Patriot, which cost four million dollars per missile. In exchange, Ukraine stood ready to share its hard-won expertise in drone warfare. "This is priceless information," Zelenskyy said. "There is a huge volume of it."
Long-range drone strikes had made the return of Crimea—once a distant dream—a tantalizing if still distant possibility. Ukraine's forces were systematically destroying the peninsula's logistics and hitting military and energy targets across occupied southern Ukraine. The goal was to make Russian civilians, particularly those in Moscow and St Petersburg, understand what war actually meant. "Victory in this war is when Russian society recognises that the war is awful, that the war is a tragedy not for someone, somewhere, but for themselves," Zelenskyy said. "And I think this is the momentum." In May, the Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich had secretly traveled to Kyiv to meet with him. Zelenskyy had made clear he would never surrender the Donbas. He believed that within Putin's circle, opinion was divided—half wanted to continue, half wanted to stop. Business figures like Abramovich, he thought, understood that Russia's economy was collapsing. Before leaving for an audience with King Charles, Zelenskyy spoke warmly of the British monarch, who had apparently urged Trump during a state visit to support Ukraine. When asked if the king might one day visit Kyiv, Zelenskyy grinned. His wife, he revealed, had sent her regards to the king before the prime minister. "Ukraine loves his majesty," he said. "I would like to invite him to Kyiv very much. Maybe this year."
Notable Quotes
We can't say Russia is losing this war. But we can say they are losing the initiative each day, day by day.— Volodymyr Zelenskyy
Victory in this war is when Russian society recognises that the war is awful, that the war is a tragedy not for someone, somewhere, but for themselves.— Volodymyr Zelenskyy
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you say Russia is losing initiative, what does that actually mean on the ground? Are they retreating?
Not retreating, no. But they're not advancing anymore either. They're stuck. And every day they're losing more soldiers, more equipment, more fuel. The initiative means momentum—the ability to choose where and when to fight. We're choosing now. They're reacting.
You mentioned 30,000 casualties a month. That's an enormous number. How long can Russia sustain that?
That's the question everyone asks. Honestly, I don't know. But I know their economy is struggling. Their oligarchs are worried. Even people close to Putin are starting to wonder if this is worth it.
You're hitting civilian infrastructure—oil terminals, supply lines. Isn't that also terrorizing people?
We're hitting military targets. But yes, we want Russians to feel the war. Not to terrorize them—to make them understand what their government has done to us. When a missile kills a three-year-old in Kyiv, that's terrorism. When we hit a fuel depot that supplies the army, that's war.
Trump cut aid to Ukraine. How do you work with that?
We tell him the truth. Putin lies to him. We don't. And we remind him that Ukraine's victory is America's victory. But we can't depend on one person's mood. We need Europe to step up.
You want Europe to build its own air defense system instead of buying American Patriots.
The Patriots work. But they cost four million each, and we need hundreds. If Europe builds something together, they learn how to defend themselves. And we share everything we've learned about drones. That knowledge is worth more than the missiles.
King Charles urged Trump to help Ukraine. Do you think that mattered?
I think it showed Trump that this isn't just Ukraine's problem. It's about the world order. When a king tells you something, you listen differently than when a president does. But we'll see.