The worst assistant in war is inflated expectations.
They condition people to view any outcome that isn't the maximum as a failure. Any result that isn't absolute is perceived as a loss. In the short term, inflated expectations can lead to emotional highs, but over time, they inevitably result in disappointment.
The problem is that our country is fond of these pitfalls.
This, however, is not surprising. Each time there are elections, the Ukrainian voter searches for a single archetype among all the possible political figures listed on the ballot. They do not vote for the "strongest," the "most honest," or the "smartest," but for the "magician." The votes go to whoever offers not a pedestrian route to happiness, but a teleportation device. Then, the election's triumphant winner quickly loses popularity because they are objectively unable to meet the expectations they created. And by the next elections, their dreams of a second term are hidden by a new contender for the role of miracle worker.
The war has not broken this pattern of behavior; rather, it has reinforced it.
In the first month of the full-scale war, Ukrainian society was ready to consider reaching the borders of February 24 a victory. Then, appetites grew, and the criterion for victory became reaching the 1991 borders. It is hard to say what exactly caused this shift. It could have been excitement—after the Armed Forces of Ukraine pushed the Russians out of Kyiv, Chernihiv, and Sumy regions. Or it could have been cold rage—after witnessing the tragedy in Bucha.
One way or another, for the next year and a half of the war, Ukraine was prepared to consider victory only as reaching its borders. The exception was those who viewed this point as intermediate and were ready to settle for nothing less than the collapse of the Russian Federation. Now, however, the country is facing the inevitable flip side of any inflated expectations. Its name is frustration.
And the issue is not the legal side of the matter. What has been stolen does not transfer to the ownership of the thief. Occupied territories will not cease to belong to Ukraine. The problem lies elsewhere. If you are only willing to consider the maximum scenario as victorious, it means that any other result will automatically be perceived as a loss. If you see a 100% result as victory, then a 90% result will be viewed as defeat.
I remember saying in an interview in spring 2023 that, for me, victory is the preservation of statehood and sovereignty (because one can have the former without the latter, as in Belarus). If the war pauses, it is crucial to achieve a situation where a renewed attack would be impossible. And that the liberation of territories is just a bonus on my wishlist. I recall the surprise of the host and commentators.
My logic was straightforward. The criterion for success in war is disrupting the enemy's plans. If Moscow aimed to occupy the Donetsk region, its fate would determine the winners and losers based on the outcomes of the battles. But it is evident that Russia's goal is to deprive Ukraine of its statehood and sovereignty. Thus, preserving both will be the main proof of our victory.
As long as we are the underdog in this war, I will continue to adhere to my criterion for victory. In conditions of clear power inequality, it protects me from neuroses and despair. Because it does not require perceiving the absolute scenario as the only norm.
Even if negotiations begin this year, Moscow will seek not so much the recognition of the occupation as the consolidation of our vulnerability. It will demand our non-alignment, disarmament, and Ukraine's return to its orbit. We are well acquainted with this scenario because this choice was already presented to us. Ten years ago, right after the second Minsk agreements.
At that time, Russia's position boiled down to proposing a deal to Ukraine each time. In exchange for the return of formal control over the occupied Donbas, Kyiv was to relinquish its own sovereignty. They wanted to introduce Russian proxies into parliament and grant "DNR" and "LNR" veto power over key issues. Instead, Ukraine chose to remain itself—and the full-scale invasion became Moscow's reaction to the failure of its own strategy.
Therefore, the criterion for victory in war remains unchanged even ten years later. If we can preserve statehood and sovereignty, it will be the main evidence of Moscow's defeat. If we can defend ourselves against a recurrence of the invasion, it will mark the end of the confrontation. If we can live despite Russia, it will become synonymous with victory.
Because in a war of annihilation against a superior adversary, the criterion for victory is quite simple. We win as long as we exist.
And reclaiming what was lost can happen later.
The author expresses a personal opinion that may not align with the editorial stance. The author bears responsibility for the published information in the "Opinions" section.