Ukraine–Russia War: A 2025 Assessment

A year of incremental Russian gains, mounting Ukrainian strain, and a battlefield that hardened into a test of endurance rather than maneuver.

I said earlier this year that Russia’s summer offensive would only be considered successful if it captured Kupiansk, Pokrovsk, and Kostiantynivka. Two of those objectives, Kupiansk and Pokrovsk, are now either functionally lost or in the final stages of becoming so, depending on whose reporting you trust. The fighting around Pokrovsk, and the ongoing withdrawal through its neighboring city of Myrnohrad, reflects a defensive posture aimed at preserving manpower rather than holding terrain at any cost. Kostiantynivka is a different matter. Russia is nowhere near the city, nor is it positioned to threaten it soon. By my own standard, this was not a successful offensive season for Russia. It was a season in which progress was made, though at a price so steep it raises questions about how long Moscow can continue grinding forward. Ukraine still holds the advantage on the defense, even as the line contracts in places that matter.

By the end of the 2025 summer campaign, the war had settled into a rhythm neither side could break. Ukraine entered the season hoping that new equipment flows and reorganized brigades would rebuild momentum. Instead, the fighting revealed structural limits that have been building for three years. The military is stretched thin, reliant on outside supply, and forced to manage manpower pressures that no political leadership can fully resolve without domestic cost. Russia adapted more quickly than many expected. The result was a season defined less by breakthrough than by pressure, steady and expensive for both sides.

Russian forces leaned into a method that has become their signature. Large armored assaults gave way to small-unit infiltration supported by FPV drones, electronic warfare, and systematic strikes on Ukrainian logistics. Instead of dramatic operational thrusts, Russia focused on exhausting Ukrainian units in place. Over weeks, this approach opened seams. The pattern repeated around Pokrovsk, in northern Kharkiv, and along sections of the eastern front. The gains remained limited but tangible; by early autumn, Russian forces were in a position to claim control of parts of Pokrovsk and its surrounding districts, even as Ukrainian units continued to contest the approaches.

Ukraine held under conditions that would have strained most militaries. I fought in Ukraine; I served as a drone operator. The persistence I saw came from men who had rotated too rarely and from crews who kept drones flying through improvisation as much as supply. When Western aircraft and artillery arrived, they made a difference, but not at the scale or pace Ukrainian commanders had hoped for. Ukraine spent the summer balancing immediate battlefield demands with the slower and uneven cycle of replenishment. The tension between what arrives from abroad and what can be generated at home shaped every operational decision.

Inside Russia, pressure deepened but did not yet shift the course of the war. Several regions suspended or reduced the financial incentives that once drew volunteers, and families waiting on payments spoke openly about delays. These were not signs of collapse, but they showed a system under strain. Moscow still funded core military salaries; the regional budgets that underwrote recruitment were no longer dependable. The political consequences will surface unevenly, especially in poorer regions that have borne disproportionate losses.

Diplomatic maneuvering intensified as the summer ended. A leaked American framework signaled renewed interest in a negotiated settlement. The 28-point plan, which reflected some Russian preferences, included territorial concessions and limits on Ukraine’s military size. After criticism from allies, it was revised, but unease remained. European governments split. Some pushed for talks before winter; others warned that concessions would reward aggression. Kyiv held its position. Ukraine is not prepared to give up, nor will it accept the terms Moscow insists on. Those terms would formalize the loss of sovereignty rather than end the war.

As autumn arrived, Russia resumed large-scale strikes on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure. The goal was not only to darken cities but to force Ukraine to expend air defense ammunition faster than partners can replace it. Repair crews restored power with speed and discipline. Even so, the cycle of attack and repair highlighted a deeper reality. Ukraine’s endurance depends on a supply chain that crosses borders, budgets, and election cycles.

The strategic balance at the end of the 2025 summer season was stark but not fixed. Russia can advance in modest increments. Ukraine can hold with disciplined defense and selective counterattacks. Yet the outcome will not be determined by battlefield tactics alone. The only plausible path to a Ukrainian victory, one defined by sovereignty rather than temporary lines on a map, runs through instability inside Russia or an external shock that changes Moscow’s calculus. For Russia, the horizon is clearer. If it grinds through 2026 and seizes Sloviansk, Kostiantynivka, and Kramatorsk, the Kremlin will declare it has liberated the Donbas and achieved its central war aims.

Ukraine’s position is more delicate. Its military fights with skill, but its strategic future rests on two forces it cannot fully control: consistent Western support and the ability to sustain its own ranks without exhausting the society behind them. These pressures do not guarantee defeat; they define the margin for error.

If 2024 marked the transition to a positional war, 2025 clarified its boundaries. Russia consumed lives and matériel to move the line by kilometers. Ukraine consumed its strength to prevent those kilometers from becoming decisive. As winter approaches, neither side appears close to collapse. Both remain locked in a conflict shaped as much by political decisions, foreign and domestic, as by anything that happens along the front.