Analysis: Is Ukraine really turning the tide of this war?

The embarrassing optics of Moscow's threadbare Victory Day parade come at a time where Russian advances on the battlefield have stalled. Ukrainian recruits of Air Assault Forces complete basic military training at a training center in an undisclosed location in Ukraine on March 27, 2026. (Roman Pilipey / AFP / Getty Images) Prefer on Google by Francis Farrell Since the launch of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the information space around the war has been obsessed with this deceptively simple question, and the constant new iterations of answers to it. In the hands of those fighting the narrative war, from officials on both sides, online cheerleaders, armchair generals, and a certain world leader who likes to talk about who has the cards, the answers differ radically, but all are delivered with consistent venom, emotion, and intellectual assuredness. Russia has already been defeated, their human wave attacks are stupid and hopeless, and at this rate they would take a century to take Ukraine, says one camp. Ukraine, with its stark disadvantage in manpower and without the backing of the United States, cannot hope to out-endure Russia, and should sign whatever peace deal now, as time is on Moscow's side, says the other. Serious analysts are more careful, speaking of positive or negative trends as they grapple with the vast complexity of such a large-scale war. As much as Moscow might be humiliated by this or that event, as long as its plan to secure victory by slowly grinding down the outnumbered Ukrainian military continues, there is no cause for celebration, they say. The upper hand will be gained by the side in whose favor the long attritional fight is running. A Ukrainian self-propelled howitzer fires at positions east of Sloviansk, Donetsk Oblast, on March 18, 2026. (Francis Farrell / The Kyiv Independent) This spring though, something strange is in the air. Ukrainian long-range strikes on Russia are going from strength to strength, maturing from single headline-grabbing explosions to the wholesale destruction of some of Russia's most important oil export and refining facilities. The tension was especially palpable ahead of Vladimir Putin's Victory Day parade in Moscow on May 9. Instead of the postcard display of Russian power that it usually tries to be, the parade has now become a liability, a lightning rod of the Kremlin's weakness and paranoia. Only a small handful of the usual stock of dictators attended the event, which was held without any military equipment, and for which a ceasefire was desperately requested from Kyiv. But far more importantly than the optics is the reality on the battlefield. Instead of picking up over spring as they usually do, Russian territorial gains have flatlined, giving Moscow next to nothing to show for its consistently high losses. But in a long war that has seen many ebbs and flows, perceptions can be deceiving, and making quick judgements can be a dangerous game. Since Ukraine's failed counteroffensive in 2023 and the settling in of both sides into a positional war of attrition, the winter has always been a time when the front line has stabilized. But over spring, with the warmer weather and cover from new foliage improving conditions for infantry assaults, Russian forces tend to pick up speed, exerting immense pressure across the front line and usually overwhelming the defense in at least two sectors. This year, that hasn't happened, yet. At the back end of winter, taking advantage of the cut-off of Starlink for Russian forces in the field, Ukraine counterattacked across a wide front in the south. These counterpunches, while not leading to a breakthrough, helped upend Russian plans to continue pushing west towards the city of Zaporizhzhia . Meanwhile further east, Russian forces have stopped and started in Donetsk Oblast , but have fallen short of creating anything like the new operational threats that developed in spring 2024 and 2025. A major effort to push northwest of Pokrovsk has bogged down in the village of Hryshyne, advances east of Sloviansk have also ground to a halt, while the city of Kostiantynivka , the southernmost of Ukraine "fortress belt" of cities, is doing its job, making Russia pay a hefty price for each street and house taken. Ukrainian paratroopers head to a Mil Mi-8 helicopter to practice parachute jumps at a training ground in an unspecified location, Ukraine, on March 27, 2026. (Oleksandr Magula / Suspilne Ukraine / JSC "UA:PBC" / Global Images Ukraine / Getty Images) The front line in Kharkiv Oblast , two springs ago the site of a menacing crossborder offensive that threatened to once again bring Ukraine's second largest city into artillery range, is also stable. The numbers speak for themselves: according to monthly calculations by trusted Ukrainian mapping and analytical project DeepState, Russian forces only took 672 square kilometers, down from 827 in the same period last year. Estimates by other open-source groups are even more favorable for Ukraine.. This comes despite no noticeable drop-off in the intensity of assaults along the front line, or Russian losses. So why are Russian forces failing to repeat their yearly spring acceleration on the battlefield? Much of the answer lies at the intersection of tactics, innovation, and politics. With a political imperative to advance and take territory, particularly the heavily fortified Donbas region, the Russian army is forced to attack almost without pause. According to Kyiv, Russia continues to be able to steadily recruit between 30-35,000 new soldiers per month, enabling Moscow to sustain its losses on the battlefield, for now. But while the inflow of low-quality, poorly-trained contract soldiers from Russia's poorest regions — complemented by criminals, foreigners, and other coerced marginal groups — is stable for now, the environment they are entering continues to change. Since first-person view (FPV) drones began to arrive on the battlefield in large numbers towards the end of 2023, the ability to strike anything that moves with a precision strike ten times cheaper than an artillery shell in minutes has driven a paradigm shift in warfare. As of 2026, around 80% of all casualties on both sides are caused by drones. Massing forces of any kind — whether armored vehicles or dismounted infantry — near the front line has become suicidal. With equipment left in stocks to burn, Russia still attempts mechanized assaults every now and again, usually under the cover of bad weather. Almost always, they end in failure, with a good result being at least some infantry dismounted before the armor is quickly demobilized and destroyed. Over time, Russia's assault groups have also shrunk in size: where two years ago, a dozen infantry might have attacked a treeline at once, by spring 2025 it was often no more than five, and now, anything more than one or two soldiers creeping forward at a time is a rarity. Instead of direct assaults of zero-line positions, Russian assault groups focus now more on infiltration: creeping past whatever is left of the enemy infantry to sow chaos in the rear and force Ukrainian drone teams to withdraw. But with more and more drones in the sky available, Ukrainian forces are learning to adapt and counter this, as they have done in the past. Much of this is credit to the ever-growing, ever-innovating drone component of the force, both in the elite, flashy units of the Unmanned Systems Forces , and — often overlooked — in the drone battalions of the regular brigades holding the line. Faced with this defensive wall of drones, Russia's infantry-based attacking strategy quickly comes up against serious dilemmas. Soldiers prepare a Baba Yaga heavy bomber drone in the Zaporizhzhia Oblast, Ukraine, on March 23, 2026. (Dmytro Smolienko / Ukrinform / NurPhoto / Getty Images) Venturing into a grey zone that is only getting deeper and deadlier with every month, Russia's single-use infantrymen continue to die at the same rate, they are just achieving less in the process. Breaking the Ukrainian defense now requires higher and higher concentrations of forces, but those higher concentrations in turn lead to higher losses. Meanwhile, to continue causing real dilemmas for Ukraine's overstretched defense, consistent pressure is required all across the front line. But as Ukraine's drone defense improves, holding back that lower-level attacking tempo becomes easier, resulting in diminishing returns for Russia. If Russia does manage to advance in a priority area, they are likely to soon come up against Ukraine's new lines of fortifications , much improved in design and execution over the years, and built for the drone-dominated war. The more that the Ukrainian defense can stabilize its lines and get on top of Russia's assault and infiltration efforts, the more bandwidth top drone teams have to multiply their success by looking deeper into the Russian rear, extending the kill zone, and focusing on enemy logistics, drone positions, and other higher-value targets further back. Here, another recent Ukrainian success story has made its presence known: middle strike. Traditionally a weak point of the Ukrainian kill-chain that relied heavily on the U.S.-built HIMARS family of guided rockets, Kyiv's middle strike capacity has matured greatly. The shift powered by a wave of mass-produced new strike drones that range from the cheap and massable FP-2 to the bespoke Hornet, packed with cutting-edge Western AI tech. Going forward, while Russia might retain the initiative on the front line, Ukrainian drones are striking logistics and air defense deeper and deeper in the rear, as displayed by the 1st Azov Corps' recent showcase of strikes in occupied Donetsk and Mariupol. These positive dynamics cannot be reduced to one factor alone. But across the board, one major change is leaving its mark. Since taking the helm of Ukraine's defense ministry in January, tech prodigy Mykhailo Fedorov has set about using data and modern-day managerial thinking to optimize anything he can get his hands on, from defense production and procurement to the distribution of drones and equipment, and perhaps most importantly, the running of the battlefield itself. A lot of these processes found their origins in his previous role as Digital Transformation Minister, where he pioneered the gamification system for Ukraine's drone units, tracked through the cutting-edge Delta situational awareness software. At a time when the armed forces, led by famously Soviet-minded commander-in-chief Oleksandr Syrskyi, have often been criticized for a lack of strategy and costly systemic problems in command, Fedorov's leadership of the defense ministry hopes to act as a crucial counterweight. Perhaps most importantly, in February this year, Fedorov pulled off one of the greatest overnight triumphs for the Ukrainian war effort: convincing SpaceX founder Elon Musk to rapidly cut off Russian forces' access to Starlink mobile internet terminals. Ukrainian soldiers walk past a Starlink satellite internet receiver in an undisclosed location in Ukraine, on Feb. 18, 2024. (Scott Peterson / Getty Images) Much of this was reportedly thanks to Fedorov's established personal relationship with Musk, who over the years has notoriously flirted with pro-Russian propaganda narratives. In the months following, Russia has tried its best to adapt and come up with its own Starlink alternatives. But for now, as Ukrainian soldiers and commanders across the front report, the outright technological advantage now enjoyed by Ukraine is felt across the battlespace, and its overall impact is immeasurable. Going forward, with the kill zone only deepening and both sides looking to make as many combat systems as possible work remotely, Starlink will likely prove to be an enduring edge for Kyiv on the battlefield. As positive as the signs on the front line may be, one can't claim the tide of the war is turning without at least acknowledging the enduring and glaring weak points of the Ukrainian defense. Firstly, there is geography: the inherent and formidable challenge of defending a front line over a thousand kilometers long against a numerically superior enemy, and at this point in the war, with practically no combat-effective strategic reserves. As efficient a defense Ukraine can possibly run in the dense fortresses of Donbas, Russia has and does retain the option to search for weak points in the front line to press and exploit an advantage. This weakness was on full display over 2025, as Ukraine's deprioritization of some parts of the southern front line led to Russia making rapid gains in areas barely held together by some of the country's weakest combat brigades. Now, as the southern front has stabilized, thanks in great measure to Ukraine's rapidly redeployed assault forces, other holes may open up elsewhere. One weak spot could be the long northern state border in Sumy and Kharkiv oblasts , where Russian forces have already crossed in more and more locations over the last few months, potentially paving the way for a larger offensive. In the race for drone dominance, Russia is also not standing still. Elite Russian drone units, particularly the notorious Rubicon center , continue to make life brutally difficult for Ukrainian brigades facing them, choking logistics with fiber optic FPVs, intercepting higher-value Ukrainian reconnaissance and bomber drones from the sky, and hunting Ukraine's own drone teams in the field. When combined with heavy artillery bombardment and mass infiltration on the ground, Rubicon's suppression of Ukrainian drone teams does still create serious problems for the defending force, and can still create conditions for significant gains. Despite its cumbersome, centralized structure and setbacks from the Starlink cut off, Russia continues to invest heavily in its drone force, with Kyiv reporting in May that Moscow aims to produce 7.3 million FPVs in 2026. But the gravest concern for the Ukrainian defense remains manpower. In the fifth year of full-scale war, losses taken from holding back Russia's great war machine need to be replaced, just like they always have been. But Ukraine's population is only shrinking, and the internal tension brought by years of large-scale forced mobilization is only continuing to grow. Kyiv faces multiple challenges, each formidable on their own, but especially in combination. Ukraine needs to find a way to provide brigades with proper replenishments for the infantry, an unimaginably brutal job in which soldiers are increasingly spending months, sometimes over a year, on frontline positions at once before rotation. Fresh manpower is also needed for the continued expansion of Ukrainian drone units. But scaling up a quality unmanned force from a pool of increasingly unfit and unmotivated draftees is easier said than done. Basic Military Training at the 118th Separate Mechanized Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces in an undisclosed location, Ukraine, on April 5, 2026. (Dmytro Smolienko/Ukrinform/NurPhoto via Getty Images) Meanwhile, the bleeding of soldiers from combat units through rising AWOL and desertion rates, needs to be brought under control, while also putting forward realistic mechanisms for those who have fought for years to eventually demobilize. There is no escaping the numbers game. Processes can be improved and resources used more efficiently, evident in the consistent criticism to Syrskyi's prioritization of the Assault Forces. But the inevitable necessity — and one that Ukraine's top leadership has alluded to more often in recent months — remains the scaling up and intensification of the mobilization process itself. For now, even as social tension rises and attacks against draft offices increase in frequency, Ukraine's population has not shown that it would rather capitulate than continue. But if losses continue and mobilization intensifies, the trade-offs that Kyiv will have to make will only get more painful. It's too early to say if Ukraine's promising defensive performance over spring will continue into summer and autumn. But if the line can remain stable while Russian losses fail to produce results, it could herald the beginning of a new phase of the war. Until now, despite U.S. President Donald Trump's often chaotic and misguided efforts to negotiate a peace deal, the war has continued simply because Russia was far from running out of steam, and Ukraine was far from collapsing and capitulating. If this equilibrium begins to break down in Ukraine's favor, Putin won't be able to avoid acting on it forever. For now, Moscow can continue its war so long as it has the men and the money to do so. Russian President Vladimir Putin attends a ceremony to lay flowers at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier by the Kremlin wall in central Moscow, Russia, on May 9, 2026. (Alexander Nemenov / Pool / AFP / Getty Images) On both fronts, Putin has so far been cautious, committing huge resources and putting his country on a war footing, but without breaking the key social contract at the heart of Putin's rule. Even while spending a third of the state budget on the military, Putin has sought to preserve the image of the provider of strength, stability, and relative prosperity to Russian citizens, in return for obedience and political apathy. The obvious example here is, of course, Putin's reluctance to announce large-scale mobilization, doing everything he can with lucrative signup bonuses, prisoners, and foreigners to avoid the image of the Tsar forcing hundreds of thousands of Russians to their deaths. Putin's complete consolidation of power and dominance of the security services means that he could almost certainly announce mobilization without threatening a revolution. But the fact that he hasn't done that speaks volumes. It's hard to predict when the moment will come, but if the war continues on its current trajectory, Putin will almost certainly be forced to choose. Either mobilize and break the social contract, without it translating into a clear path forward on the battlefield. Or — and this would be the moment almost all Ukrainians are waiting for — he could wind down his war aims, end demands for Kyiv to hand over new territory, and accept a ceasefire where Ukraine's real security guarantee will not be promises from foreign governments, but a rock-solid defence and one of the strongest, most combat-effective modern fighting forces in the world. Whether it pushes Putin to overextend or to wind down his war, herein lies Ukraine's theory of victory. Ending — in the short term and the long — both Russia's conviction that it can break Ukraine and, more importantly, its ability to do so, is achieved through the strongest, most efficient defensive fight possible. As the weather warms up and Russia ramps up attempts to make up for lost time and pick up the pace on the battlefield, much will become clearer in the next few months. In the meantime, Kyiv's deep-strike destruction and defensive prowess are proving all those who called for a quick land-for-peace deal resoundingly wrong. That in itself is already a victory. Hi this is Francis Farrell, the author of this article. This broad big picture kind of piece is not something I want to make a habit of, but given everything that's been going on, I thought it was important to ground the headline-grabbing events of recent weeks to the reality on the battlefield and check in on whether the balance of power is really shifting. I don't claim to be an expert on every single factor that will affect how this war will play out, but I can say that the assessment of the battlefield is informed by first-hand experience, trips to the front line itself. That is something that big international media have almost stopped doing. If you appreciate the kind of reporting we do, please consider supporting our work by becoming a member. Francis Farrell is a reporter at the Kyiv Independent. He is the co-author of War Notes, the Kyiv Independent's weekly newsletter about the war. For the second year in a row, the Kyiv Independent received a grant from the Charles Douglas-Home Memorial Trust to support his front-line reporting for the year 2025-2026. Francis won the Prix Bayeux Calvados-Normandy for war correspondents in the young reporter category in 2023, and was nominated for the European Press Prize in 2024. Francis speaks Ukrainian and Hungarian and is an alumnus of Leiden University in The Hague and University College London. He has previously worked as a managing editor at the online media project Lossi 36, as a freelance journalist and documentary photographer, and at the OSCE and Council of Europe field missions in Albania and Ukraine.