Can Ukraine sustain the costs of a long war of attrition against a larger opponent while preserving the demographic, economic, and social foundations of a viable post-war state?
This week marks a grim benchmark for the conflict in Ukraine: its duration has now exceeded that of the First World War.
Western narratives often highlight tactical victories, cutting-edge technology, and impactful long-range assaults. Ukraine’s extraordinary bravery, resilience, and creativity in opposing Russia’s invasion are commendable. With allied backing, Ukraine has inflicted significant damage on its foe and will likely continue to do so throughout the ongoing conflict.
However, such discussions frequently miss the war’s core nature. Like the Great War, it is primarily a war of attrition, measured not in triumphant headlines or advanced weaponry, but in the human toll—lives and limbs lost on both sides.
Having spent many weeks traversing Ukraine during the hostilities, I have observed a pervasive anxiety about what awaits afterward.
The pivotal issue now is no longer Ukraine’s capacity to impose losses on Russia—which is evident—but whether it can sustain a rate of attrition sufficient to fulfill its political goals without enduring losses that become unacceptable militarily, socially, and demographically.
This is where public discourse becomes challenging. While estimates of Russian casualties circulate widely, and successful attacks or new weapons are touted as proof that Ukraine has ‘turned the tide.’ The reality in an attritional conflict is that enemy casualties tell only half the story. The essential issue is comparative endurance: which side can replenish losses, maintain mobilization, preserve social cohesion, and fight longer?
This critical question is often sidelined. Governments naturally emphasize victories and adversary losses over setbacks or friendly casualties, especially while public backing and financial aid must be sustained. But policies relying on partial facts risk conflating hope with strategy. Downplaying or ignoring casualties also dishonors those who have died. During WWI, Britain, France, and Germany routinely released casualty lists, ensuring the public understood the war’s human cost, even after devastating events like the Somme’s opening day.
Today’s narrative frequently suggests that Russian fatalities outnumber Ukrainian ones by many times. About a year ago, at a London dinner with a well-informed former Ukrainian official, the topic of casualties arose.
“Tell me, no bulls**t: what is the real casualty ratio?”
After a pause, they quietly replied: “One to one.”
Surprised, I asked about the source.
“The General Staff.”
Whether exactly accurate or not, this insight from a credible Ukrainian contact suggests parity, rather than overwhelming Russian losses, is a more realistic assessment.
Similarly, each high-profile Ukrainian strike on Russian facilities is met with multiple retaliatory strikes on Ukraine, a nation with far fewer resources and infrastructure. Although supported by the intelligence assets of major powers, Ukraine’s ability to strike deep within Russia is remarkable. Yet Russia continues to inflict damage at a level Ukraine struggles to counter. No one can confidently predict how long Ukraine will bear such losses against a nation with over three times its population, far greater industrial capacity, and state revenues bolstered by substantial oil and gas income. Advocates claiming Russia is near collapse should recall that historically, neither the Russian state nor its people are noted for lacking resilience. Ukrainians, too, have shown extraordinary perseverance and will continue to do so.
Since realistic goals or definitions of ‘winning’ remain unclear, virtually any outcome short of defeat may be framed as a victory. But what will the aftermath look like? Ukraine faces a devastating demographic crisis, exacerbated as its population was already declining before the war. Millions have fled abroad; millions more remain under Russian control. A young woman in Odessa, reflecting a widespread view, shared that none of her friends intend to return from their new Western homes. “And there are no men,” she said. Outside Kyiv, the scarcity of military-age men is stark—many are serving, wounded, overseas, or evading mobilization.
What awaits those who serve after demobilization? Over one million combat-experienced, often traumatized men will require meaningful employment and roles beyond military service. Will Ukraine become a ‘land fit for heroes,’ or will they face unemployment and despair? This poses the crucial issue of Disarmament, Demobilisation, and Reintegration (DDR), which must also address disabled and wounded individuals. The challenge is enormous. An area larger than England demands mine and unexploded ordnance clearance. Scattered across this terrain lie the remains of countless tens of thousands of missing soldiers yet to be recovered, identified, and brought home.
Rebuilding will require hundreds of billions of euros. Even if—an assumption few share—corruption is eradicated, Ukraine will need tens of billions more annually just to maintain essential public services. The military will need far more to sustain a credible deterrent. Where this funding will come from is uncertain. From taxes levied on a damaged economy? From drone sales? The expectation that Russia will finance this recovery feels more like hopeful thinking than practical reality. Alternatively, will Europe shoulder the financial burden?
Each day of this conflict brings more casualties and raises the cost of human and economic rebuilding. The question isn’t whether Ukraine merits support—it clearly does. Nor whether Russia has suffered severe losses—it has. The critical issue remains: can Ukraine endure a prolonged war of attrition against a larger opponent while maintaining the demographic, economic, and societal foundations essential for a sustainable post-war state?
