Attrition is not defeat: why Ukraine is not “losing” the war

Russia has captured roughly one per cent of additional Ukrainian territory over the past four years of its full-scale war against Ukraine. That stark figure alone should give pause to anyone prepared to declare a Ukrainian defeat. After the largest conventional invasion in Europe since 1945, and after months of massed armour columns, missile barrages, and mobilization decrees, Moscow’s net territorial expansion since 2022 amounts to incremental advances measured in single digits. And yet, from this reality, Michael C. Desch concludes that Ukraine is losing the war and should therefore trade land for peace.

Desch’s argument, published in Foreign Affairs, rests on a narrow reading of battlefield metrics and an overestimation of Russia’s strategic coherence and endurance. It also underestimates Ukrainian resilience and overlooks the broader geopolitical and political consequences of territorial concession.

The claim that Ukraine is steadily collapsing under the weight of Russian manpower and resources simplifies a far more complex war. It is true that the conflict has evolved into a grinding contest of attrition. It is true that Russia currently controls approximately 19 per cent of Ukraine’s internationally recognized territory. But it does not follow that Ukraine is strategically defeated, nor that surrendering territory would produce stability.

Manpower, territory, and the myth of momentum

Consider the issue of manpower. Assertions that Russia fields a more motivated force because it relies on contract soldiers ignore mounting evidence of coercive recruitment practices, shadow conscription, and financial desperation driving enlistment. Many Russian soldiers are not ideological volunteers but men drawn from economically depressed regions, who are offered significant compensation to their families, or pressured into signing contracts. Recruitment has relied heavily on prisoners and marginalized populations. The narrative of a cohesive, motivated Russian force fighting for a unified national vision does not fully withstand scrutiny.

Ukraine, by contrast, does rely on conscription, and mobilization has become more difficult as the war drags on. Controversial enforcement practices exist. Yet it is misleading to suggest that Ukrainian forces consist primarily of unwilling conscripts. Volunteerism remains strong, particularly within elite formations such as the Third Assault Corps and Azov. Ukrainian morale is strained but intact. Units continue to hold extended defensive lines under extraordinary pressure. Portraying Russian manpower as qualitatively superior while depicting Ukrainian mobilization as fundamentally brittle obscures the operational reality on the ground.

The numerical comparisons often cited also require clarification. Approximately 300,000 Ukrainian troops are described as holding the frontline, but this figure excludes the broader defence ecosystem — nearly one million personnel engaged in logistics, territorial defence, engineering, intelligence, training, and support functions. Meanwhile, the commonly cited figure of 700,000 Russian troops refers to all forces present on Ukrainian territory, not exclusively frontline assault elements. The comparison is asymmetrical. Operational density, rotation cycles, and force composition matter more than aggregate headcounts.

Territorial dynamics further complicate claims of an inevitable Ukrainian defeat. Russia has made incremental advances in certain sectors, particularly in parts of Donetsk and along limited axes in the south. However, over the course of the war, Russia has lost more territory than it has gained since retreating from Kyiv, Kharkiv and Kherson in 2022. Ukraine liberated Kupyansk and roughly 400 square kilometres in the south just in recent months. The battlefield has shifted repeatedly. If Russian objectives were truly aligned with its capabilities, one would expect more decisive outcomes.

Instead, the campaign in Donetsk has required enormous resources for marginal territorial gains. The effort to capture Pokrovsk stretched over a year. Urban strongholds such as Bakhmut and Chasiv Yar consumed extraordinary manpower and materiel for limited strategic benefit. The pace of advance suggests diminishing returns rather than accelerating momentum.

As Michael Kofman has argued, for example, the war is not fundamentally about Donetsk alone, nor has Russia demonstrated the military capacity to achieve its broader political aims. The Kremlin’s maximal objectives – regime change, forced neutrality, or comprehensive subjugation – remain unrealized. The stabilization of the frontline reflects mutual constraints and adaptation, not a Ukrainian collapse. Moscow continues fighting not because victory is assured, but because it believes time and western fatigue may eventually tilt the balance.

Capabilities, technology, and economic endurance

Much of the “Ukraine is losing” argument rests on quantitative comparisons in heavy weaponry. Russia fields more tanks, artillery systems, multiple launch rocket systems, and aircraft. But modern warfare is not determined solely by stockpiles. Drone warfare, electronic warfare, long-range precision strikes, and decentralized infantry tactics have transformed the operational landscape. A significant portion of Russia’s numerical advantage derives from older platforms drawn from storage, often with degraded readiness and survivability.

Western-supplied systems, when delivered in sufficient quantity and at the right time, have repeatedly altered battlefield dynamics. HIMARS disrupted Russian logistics networks and ammunition depots. Storm Shadow missiles struck deep command nodes and airfields. Patriot systems bolstered air defence against missile barrages. The recurring problem has not been the irrelevance of western materiel, but its delay. Capabilities have often arrived months after they could have been decisive.

Moreover, Ukraine has expanded the domestic production of long-range drones and strike systems. Indigenous innovation, particularly in unmanned systems, has allowed Ukraine to impose costs far beyond the immediate frontline. The war has become a contest of adaptation as much as attrition.

Economic comparisons similarly require nuance. Russia’s GDP, particularly when measured by purchasing power parity, exceeds Ukraine’s by a significant margin. Yet sustained defence spending approaching seven per cent of GDP imposes structural strain. Sanctions, technological isolation, and restricted access to western components constrain Russia’s long-term industrial modernization. Its defence industry has adapted, but not without cost.

Ukraine’s economy is heavily damaged and reliant on western assistance. However, it is deeply integrated into European economic and financial structures. Support from partners has sustained fiscal stability and enabled continued defence production. Economic size alone does not dictate strategic endurance; the sustainability of mobilization and the adaptability of institutions matter equally.

Invocations of corruption as a decisive Ukrainian weakness also lack proportionality. Corruption has long been a challenge in Ukraine and remains an issue under wartime conditions. Yet Russia’s military and defence sector is likewise marked by procurement inefficiencies, patronage networks, and mismanagement. Corruption did not prevent Ukraine from repelling the initial invasion in 2022, nor from sustaining four years of large-scale conflict. It is a structural problem, but not a determinant of imminent defeat.

There is also an internal inconsistency in criticizing Ukraine for failing to build sufficient defensive fortifications while suggesting that surrendering fortified cities in Donbas would not materially weaken its defensive posture. Urban strongholds function as logistical anchors and force multipliers in drone-dominated warfare. Abandoning them does not automatically create a more defensible configuration, especially when manpower is constrained.

The strategic and political consequences of concession

Beyond battlefield considerations lie broader strategic consequences. Any peace agreement predicated on territorial concession would likely include constraints on Ukraine’s military capacity and alliance options. Limiting long-range strike capabilities, capping force size, or enforcing neutrality would reduce Ukraine’s ability to deter renewed aggression. A territorially truncated Ukraine under imposed restrictions would not necessarily be more secure – it could be more vulnerable.

Precedent matters as well. Territorial revision through force, if normalized, reshapes strategic calculations globally. This signal would extend beyond Eastern Europe. States observing the conflict would internalize the lesson that persistence and attrition can outlast international resolve.

The political dimension is equally significant. Russia has repeatedly employed hybrid tools, such as information operations, political interference, and economic leverage, to shape outcomes in Ukraine and elsewhere. A weakened Ukraine following territorial concession could face intensified efforts to influence elections and internal politics. Military invasion is not the only pathway to subordination.

Finally, any serious analysis must account for the will of the Ukrainian people. Public opinion consistently reflects strong opposition to territorial concessions as the price for peace. The sacrifices endured over four years have reinforced, not diminished, Ukrainian national cohesion. A settlement perceived domestically as capitulation could undermine institutional legitimacy and generate internal instability. Wars are not resolved solely by material balances; political legitimacy shapes durability.

The present phase of the war is best characterized as a costly stalemate defined by attrition, adaptation, and strategic patience. Russia continues to fight in part because it believes western support will erode. Ukraine seeks to make the war so sufficiently costly that Moscow recalculates its aims. The difficulty lies not in Ukrainian incapacity, but in deterring an adversary that refuses to accept diminishing returns.

Declaring Ukraine to be losing risks reinforcing the very narrative upon which Moscow depends. The conflict is not static, and its trajectory is not predetermined. Ukraine faces grave challenges – manpower strain, infrastructure damage, resource constraints – but those challenges do not equate to inevitable defeat.

After four years, Russia’s net territorial gains remain marginal relative to its initial objectives. That fact alone should temper claims of strategic inevitability. Attrition is not victory, and difficulty is not defeat. Prematurely accepting that conclusion may carry consequences far beyond the battlefield.

Joshua R. Kroeker is an independent researcher and founder of the boutique analytic firm Reaktion Group. He holds degrees from the University of British Columbia in Canada, Heidelberg University in Germany, and St Petersburg State University in Russia.