"And how are you feeling, psychologically?" a journalist suddenly asked Ukraine's president. "Me? I'm fine," replied a surprised Volodymyr Zelenskyy, who up to that point had been fielding questions on political and diplomatic matters. "And how do I look to you?" he asked. "You look tired," the journalist said.
"Then don't look at me," Zelenskyy laughed, before turning serious. "But thank you. All of us in Ukraine are tired, but we have to do our work to save the country and protect our people and our rights. We're all in the same boat. We're tired, but we're strong."
The brief exchange – on the sidelines of the Munich Security Conference a few days ago – revealed far more than just the president's mood. On February 24, Ukraine will mark the start of the fifth year of the Russian invasion. Looking back across four years of war, Zelenskyy and his citizens can recognize something almost improbable: despite the carnage, the bombardment, and the bone-chilling cold, Russia failed to achieve either of its two stated objectives for the past year. Kyiv's army did not collapse. Washington did not cut off aid – it only changed the format, from grants to sales.
According to American analyst Michael Kofman, one of the world's foremost experts on the conflict, Ukraine is actually closing out year four in better shape than it entered it. "The situation today is far from dire, even though Kyiv entered 2026 in a complicated position," he wrote last week in an extensive piece for Foreign Affairs.
The goal: Persuade Trump
Those achievements – modest-sounding as they are – look almost miraculous when measured against a specific turning point: the meeting between Trump and Zelenskyy in the Oval Office on the final day of February last year. The meeting imploded fast. Vice President JD Vance accused the Ukrainian leader of ingratitude toward Trump; the president himself told his European guest that he "had no cards." The planned dinner was canceled. In an extraordinary and humiliating scene captured on camera, the Ukrainian delegation was shown the door.
Rather than the end of a relationship, that low point handed Zelenskyy a masterclass. He emerged from the debacle with a clearer understanding of how Trump operates and, crucially, how to navigate his psychological architecture. The formula he landed on was deceptively simple: thank Trump at every available opportunity, never refuse him to his face, and always convey that Ukraine is willing to make painful compromises. At the same time, he could not abandon his backbone entirely – Trump not only projects strength, but he also respects it in others, and firmness on truly critical issues had to be maintained.
The approach worked. Tactically, Zelenskyy learned to weather Trump's mood swings – the alternating attacks and praise. Strategically, it opened space for negotiating progress and agreement on every available point, even as Kyiv held firm on the non-negotiables: the status of the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant (Europe's largest nuclear facility, under Russian control since 2022), control of the Donbas (the eastern Ukrainian industrial region partially occupied by Russia), and binding security guarantees.
"The US and Europe must provide guarantees that will protect Ukraine from future Russian attacks, otherwise the deal won't hold," Zelenskyy told The Atlantic a few days ago. "We would rather fight than sign an agreement on terms that won't serve our country."
The end of the all-powerful aide
The diplomatic high-wire act with Trump played out against a backdrop of internal turbulence, making the past year the most politically punishing of Zelenskyy's wartime tenure. Last July, he pushed legislation designed to curtail the independence of Ukraine's two anti-corruption agencies, NABU and SAP (Ukraine's National Anti-Corruption Bureau and Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor's Office). The backlash was fierce – street protests, displeasure from European allies – and Zelenskyy retreated. The episode left a sour aftertaste.
Then came November's body blow: NABU and SAP cracked open an entire bribery and money-laundering network inside the state energy corporation Energoatom. The central figure was Timur Mindich, a friend and former business partner of Zelenskyy's, who had allegedly been extracting between 10% and 15% from every subcontractor's contract in exchange for "maintaining their status" and "preventing suspension of payments."
Mindich and his associates pocketed $100 million – much of it from projects meant to protect energy infrastructure – while Russian missiles were targeting that same infrastructure on the eve of winter. Mindich fled to Israel when the scandal broke. But the truly seismic event came next: Andriy Yermak – the man without whose approval, it was widely understood, nothing moved in Zelenskyy's circle – was ousted.
From intelligence to the presidential office
Ukrainian analysts say the dismissal gave Zelenskyy rare room to maneuver. Two appointments illustrate the shift: Yermak's replacement was Kyrylo Budanov, the head of Ukraine's Defense Intelligence, who now leads Kyiv's negotiating effort. Budanov carries unusual weight: though until recently he was personally involved in special operations, he has kept an open back-channel with Moscow on prisoner swaps throughout the war while simultaneously deepening his relationship with the CIA. He is highly regarded at Langley and accepted across the competing factions of the Trump administration.
"At the most senior level, he is among the handful of figures in Ukraine capable of thinking several steps ahead," former Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba said of him recently. "Yermak was more of an opportunist." The appointment, Kuleba added, also shed light on Zelenskyy himself. "He has undergone an internal transformation. You cannot run a country by the same model for six years," said the former minister, who was himself dismissed in 2022 – apparently under Yermak's influence.
Budanov's partner in reshaping Ukraine's war effort is set to be the new Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov, a tech entrepreneur with a background in defense-sector innovation. Fedorov is tasked with reforming military command, improving the conscription process – and with it troop rotation at the front (in his first address to parliament, he revealed that roughly 200,000 soldiers, about a third of the fighting force, had left their units without authorization) – and further scaling the Ukrainian defense industry, which in four years has grown into a major manufacturer supplying nearly 50% of all weapons and munitions needed at the front, with enormous emphasis on drones produced by the millions.
On two early tests, Fedorov has already delivered: at the recent Ramstein summit, Ukraine's allies committed $38 billion in military assistance. And he managed to find common ground with billionaire Elon Musk, quickly disconnecting Starlink terminals that had been smuggled into Russia over the course of the war – a step that dealt a tangible, if temporary, blow to Russian battlefield effectiveness.
A year of decision?
The appointments of Budanov and Fedorov point to a president who views 2026 as a potentially war-ending year – whether through diplomatic breakthrough or, more likely, by driving up the cost of war for Moscow to an unsustainable level. While Russia is counting on grinding Ukraine down, Kyiv is betting on making the conflict too expensive – in human lives and economic terms – for its neighbor-enemy to sustain.
Entering year five, both Zelenskyy and the broader Ukrainian public carry what might be described as cautious optimism. Russia's economy holds, but stress fractures are multiplying: growth of just 0.6%, a draining national wealth fund, industrial output contracting at its sharpest pace since March 2022, major companies seeking government bailouts, and a VAT hike to plug the gap left by falling oil revenues.
Around 40% of the Russian budget goes to defense, yet Moscow's frontline advances remain glacially slow. Despite its demographic edge, Russia is failing to recruit fast enough to offset its battlefield losses – let alone build meaningful reserves. Compounding the problem are the falling quality of new conscripts and widespread organized crime inside military units, further corroding an already-strained force.
Ukraine, meanwhile, is steadily widening the reach of its strikes deep into Russian territory – drones are hitting targets 2,000 kilometers (1,240 miles) away – and has already partly neutralized Moscow's strategic depth. It continues to demonstrate a capacity for surprise, as in Operation Spider Web (the Ukrainian operation that destroyed Russian strategic bombers on the ground). And it is becoming increasingly embedded in European security architecture through a growing web of joint defense production initiatives.
As for Zelenskyy himself, he is also preparing for the possibility of elections, a Russian demand the Americans have accepted. "Nobody is clinging to power, but elections require a ceasefire and security guarantees," he told The Atlantic. He is also open to a referendum on a fair deal, if one is brokered through Trump. "I don't think a bad deal should be put to a referendum. We will continue the fight. Ukraine will not lose."
