The prospect of a quick peace agreement in Ukraine has become one of the most polarizing issues since Donald Trump’s election as President of the United States. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky insists that such a deal can be hard to reach, emphasizing the importance of a just peace over a swift one. Justice, of course, is difficult to argue against. Yet, in conversations with my fellow citizens, another sobering truth emerges: this war is draining us to the core.
One survey found that 38% of Ukrainians are willing to accept territorial concessions in exchange for peace. But this feels like an unexpectedly conservative figure to me. At a clinic in Kyiv, a doctor I’d just met was on the verge of tears—her colleagues are leaving, and she’s contemplating it too. In the Western city of Lviv, a masseuse messages me monthly, asking when the war will end. A cleaner from Chernihiv in the North has already begun anew in Spain. Despite my country’s extraordinary resilience, we face a foe that cannot be overcome by military might alone. Western allies have been generous, but even their steadfast support cannot guarantee the future we so deeply desire. A victory by military means only, though inspiring, may no longer be attainable. At what cost, we must ask, does our continued struggle come?
As Ukraine insists on immediate reclaiming of its territories and clings to the increasingly distant prospect of NATO membership, it is losing its nation in other ways. At least 7.5 million Ukrainians have fled the country due to the war, with over 440,000 leaving just last year—a figure 3.3 times higher than in 2023.
Russia has turned a third of Ukraine into a living hell. Imagine a life where Russian drones hunt people as if on a safari daily, as they do in my home region of Kherson. While approximately two-thirds of the population of Kherson have fled, many remain—including my parents, who as medical workers, refuse to abandon their community. This is the harsh reality across much of eastern, southern, and northern Ukraine. Some regions endure relentless aerial bombings; others are plagued by drones or artillery fire. Meanwhile, Russian forces continue their slow, relentless advance in Donbas, putting the region of Dnipropetrovsk at risk.
As we engage in endless debates over justice and whether a quick peace is even possible, the Russians are seizing more land and taking more lives.
The reported death toll among Ukrainian soldiers varies widely, from over 40,000 according to President Zelensky to at least 80,000 as reported by the Wall Street Journal. Beyond these numbers, civilians are dying and suffering every day. Verified estimates by the UN indicate over 12,000 civilian deaths on Ukrainian-controlled territory alone, while the true number in Russian-occupied regions remains unknown. Civilian injuries are in the hundreds of thousands. In 2024 alone, the number of civilian casualties caused by Russian forces increased by 30%. And this doesn’t account for the thousands of children forcibly deported, or those who continue to be taken from newly occupied areas.
Many people remain in these war zones because they have nowhere to go. It’s not just infrastructure that has been destroyed—the economy is in ruins, making it nearly impossible to find work that can sustain a family. For many, especially in rural areas, staying under fire feels like the only option. But as the war grinds on, patriotism begins to waver for some, replaced by a single, desperate desire: survival.
Is there a Western leader—Donald Trump or otherwise—who can end this conflict? I don’t know. But I do know that high-level discussions of a cease-fire have been ongoing, from Washington to Brussels. Perhaps an imperfect cease-fire, one that might not satisfy all our demands for justice, is a necessary step. This is not an appeal for complacency; it’s an appeal for survival.
Some would call me naïve, saying that Putin’s army will rebuild and attack again. But even a temporary truce could allow us to fortify defenses we were unable to build before the invasion. Under constant Russian shelling, establishing robust lines has been near impossible. A cease-fire would provide a chance to strengthen our borders, bolster our forces, and prepare for what may come. If Russia resumes aggression, at least we would be standing on solid ground rather than on crumbling foundations.
Pursuing a cease-fire is not weak. War has taught us the peril of simple answers and rosy narratives. We must be pragmatic—for the sake of future generations who will bear the consequences of today’s choices. This is not a plea for surrender but for a strategy that acknowledges both our strength and our limitations. Ukraine deserves a future beyond endless war. Naivety today is not seeking respite, but believing that a never-ending war of attrition, idealized on TikTok and Twitter, can somehow lead to victory.
Reclaiming our territories is a shared goal. Yet since the 2023 counteroffensive, we have faced a hard truth: Ukraine may lack a realistic chance to retake every occupied area immediately. Recent losses underscore that no amount of social media support will shift the military reality.
I am here to challenge the notion that only continued war will save Ukraine. To stand against Russia, we need more than weapons. We need intellectual strength, a resilient democracy, a stable economy, and the courage to confront our own limitations. The reality is, right now, with Ukraine’s brain drain, increasing poverty levels, and eroded democracy, our resilience is fragile.
Every day of attrition weakens Ukraine. It’s not solely the West’s fault; if our allies hadn’t cared, they wouldn’t have provided the tremendous support seen early in the war. But reclaiming our land demands more than brute force.
A cease-fire could allow Ukraine to recalibrate, to heal, to rebuild. We could reinforce our democracy, restore our economy, and begin the long process of societal recovery from this brutal invasion.
I urge our allies, our leaders, and above all, my fellow Ukrainians: consider the value of a cease-fire. Let’s embrace this difficult path, not as a surrender but as a necessary step toward securing Ukraine’s future. We owe it to our nation, to those who have fallen, and to those who will inherit the Ukraine we are striving to protect.
