Ukraine, explained.
Residents gather outside a damaged residential building following a Russian missile strike in Kyiv on 15 June 2026 (Oleksii Filippov/AFP via Getty Images)
More than a decade of war has drained “resilience” of meaning – and turned it into a way of avoiding moral responsibility.
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The world has stopped seeing UkraineThe world has stopped seeing Ukraine
War is not only a test for states and societies, but also for moral judgement and ethics.
World leaders are understandably preoccupied with the questions of economic stability. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 saw oil and gas prices surge, and grain exports and food security become ever harder to manage. That challenge has been compounded by attacks on Iran. Warnings of “a full-blown energy disaster (Opens in new window)” are disturbingly common, along with wider disruption to everyday travellers with flight hubs in the Gulf region closed.
But the near exclusive focus on such questions as “what the Strait of Hormuz fuel crisis means for air travel (Opens in new window)” means paying far less attention to the societies living through the grim reality of war.
Ukraine offers a striking example. The fact that the largest country in Europe has been a no-flight zone for more than four years is rarely viewed as a problem beyond Ukraine itself. For Ukrainians, reaching an international airport often requires up to 24 hours of travel by bus or train before boarding a flight from Warsaw or another European hub. There is no safe travel within the country, as Russia frequently targets trains and railway stations (Opens in new window), so passengers have to wait outside until the end of the air alert. But even the lack of the prewar air travel options is not the main concern of the majority of the population, who are grappling with the psychological, economic, and emotional toll of the war.
The continued talk of resilience in Ukraine obscures the realities of exhaustion and vulnerability.
Other examples are also telling. Concerns about possible US destruction of Iran’s desalination plants (Opens in new window) briefly attracted international attention – yet Ukrainians are already preparing (Opens in new window) for another difficult winter amid continued attacks on critical infrastructure.
It is understandable that the cost of war can be overwhelming and always thought of first in terms of political, international, and economic cost. People become inured to the hardship experienced by others. Russia’s war against Ukraine has already lasted for more than a decade. The language of crisis – an overused word – has immunised the international community against Ukraine and other countries living through the war. Twelve years after Russia’s first aggression in eastern Ukraine and the occupation of Crimea, and more than four years after the full-scale invasion in 2022, the urgency of the international response has evaporated.
Sheltering at a metro station during an air alarm in Kyiv, 2 June 2026, amid the Russian invasion of Ukraine (Tetiana Dzhafarova/AFP via Getty Images)
Economic concepts such as “inflation” and “recession” are often invoked without sufficient attention to what they mean in people’s lives. Words like “uncertainty” and “conflict” do not do justice to the real magnitude of the events for those displaced by war or those living on the brink of economic and physical survival. While many people elsewhere can respond to recession by reducing their expenses – eating out less or skipping a coffee – for Ukrainians, both inside and outside the country, the war is inescapable.
Perhaps no word has been used more frequently in discussions of Ukraine than “resilience (Opens in new window)”. At first this language was powerful, expressing solidarity and admiration for the Ukrainian people and Ukraine as a state. But with the passing years, the meaning has shifted – becoming a mechanism for avoiding moral responsibility, implying that Ukraine’s resilience is an inexhaustible resource.
Ukrainian society has demonstrated extraordinary strength, often exceeding expectations shaped by years of Russia’s disinformation and propaganda. Yet the continued talk of resilience in Ukraine obscures the realities of exhaustion and vulnerability, of their limitations and real cost.
While Russia has relentlessly targeted Ukraine’s energy infrastructure during the recent winters, there remains a limited understanding of what it means to live in a modern city or village without access to heating, electricity, water, or gas. Similarly, no one likely thinks about what efforts one has to make to continue working at an office job if there is no stable electricity or internet connection, especially in the frontline regions. Likewise, overnight attacks involving more than 800 drones resulting in widespread destruction and numerous civilian deaths have become an ordinary feature of 21st-century warfare in Ukraine.
Another evacuation campaign has recently been announced for 23 villages and settlements (Opens in new window) in the Kupyansk district east of Kharkiv, yet it attracted little international attention. What does this number actually mean? How many homes will be left forever? How many families will lose their livelihoods? How many gardens and yards will become overgrown with grass and weeds? Even as the frontline barely moves, the reach of artillery, drones, and glide bombs has made life in nearby regions unliveable.
Russia’s war has not only destroyed cities and villages once so full of life and hope, but it has also lowered our moral threshold. For those living amid war, the reality is measured in children’s deaths, soldiers’ funerals, animals abandoned and s near extinction, destroyed homes, power outages, shortages of water, and freezing temperatures. For many others, their understanding of the war in Ukraine is limited to the question of whether it is still ongoing.
About the author
Iryna Skubii
Iryna Skubii is the inaugural Mykola Zerov Fellow in Ukrainian Studies at the University of Melbourne.
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