Four years have passed since the Russian Federation launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, a war that has become not only the largest armed conflict in Europe since World War II, but also a vivid example of classic colonial aggression in the 21st century. The events of recent years have finally destroyed the myth of “fraternal peoples” and exposed the true nature of Russian state policy — imperial, arrogant, and built on the denial of the right of its neighbours to their own statehood.
The Russian invasion was not an accident or the result of a “misunderstanding.” It was a natural continuation of the centuries-old policy of the imperial centre towards Ukraine. Moscow traditionally viewed Ukrainian lands as a resource – territorial, spiritual, economic, human and cultural. Ukrainian identity was subjected to restrictions for centuries, and the very idea of an independent Ukrainian state was presented as something artificial and dangerous. The statist Ukrainian political forces, their spiritual leaders, in particular Ukrainian nationalists, were the object of slander by Russia and its fifth column in Ukraine.
In this sense, the war has all the hallmarks of a classic colonial campaign: the denial of a separate nation, an attempt to forcibly reclaim a “lost province,” the destruction of political subjectivity, and the forcible assimilation of the population. Russian propaganda openly questioned the very right of Ukrainians to their own history, language, and choice of future.
A distinctive feature of modern Russian aggression has been its ideological basis. Russian state rhetoric has increasingly relied on the idea of the exceptionalism of a “great nation” that supposedly has a historical mission to unite its neighbours around itself. This superiority has developed into a form of RUSSIAN STATE NAZISM – the belief that Ukrainians are not a separate political nation, but only part of a “single people.”
That is why Russian society for a long time did not sincerely understand why Ukrainians needed their own state. In the Russian imagination, Ukraine was to remain in Moscow’s orbit — culturally, economically, and politically. Ukraine’s refusal to follow this path was perceived not as the right of a sovereign country, but as a “betrayal” or a “mistake” that needed to be corrected by force.
In the early 21st century, Russia generated enormous profits from oil and gas exports. These resources allowed it to create the illusion of power, modernise its military, and strengthen its authoritarian model of government. Energy money became the fuel for its imperial ambitions.
When political instability and weak state institutions prevailed in Kyiv, the Kremlin decided that the moment had come for violent revenge. Ukraine was perceived as easy prey – a country that could be quickly conquered by imposing a new reality on it. However, this assessment turned out to be fatally wrong for Putin.
By launching a full-scale war, the Kremlin has effectively driven itself into a strategic trap. The calculation of the lightning-fast collapse of Ukrainian statehood, the split of the West, and the restoration of imperial control did not come true. Instead, Russia has received a protracted war of attrition. Economic sanctions are gradually undermining its financial system, limiting access to technology, investment, and world markets. The war is devouring the resources that previously formed social stability within the country.
Even more painful was the human toll. Hundreds of thousands of dead and wounded, waves of mobilisation that particularly hit the national republics and depressed regions, destroying the social contract between the authorities and society. What was presented as a “quick victorious operation” turned into a long and bloody campaign with no obvious prospect of completion.
History shows that empires collapse not only due to external defeats, but also due to internal exhaustion. If war continues as a strategy for the existence of the regime, Russia may face processes of profound transformation or even disintegration. Growing regional discontent, economic imbalance, ethnic tension and the loss of the myth of the “invincible state” pose risks to the imperial construct, which is based on centralised power.
However, when talking about the Kremlin’s miscalculation, we have no right to ignore our own mistakes. Because the truth is that the state of Ukraine was strategically unprepared on 24 February 2022.
Warnings of a full-scale invasion had been sounding for months. Western partners were openly talking about specific dates and scenarios for the offensive. Hundreds of thousands of Russian troops, equipment, field hospitals, and blood supplies were concentrated near the borders. These were not “rumours” — these were facts.
However, President Volodymyr Zelensky and his team chose a public strategy of appeasement. They told the society not about the inevitability of war, but about the need to “not sow panic.” Full-fledged early mobilisation was not introduced. There was no systematic deployment of reserves along the entire line of potential strike. Not all strategic directions were properly strengthened.
A state with eight years of war experience lived as if a full-scale offensive was not coming. The government continued to operate in peacetime, concentrating on political and economic projects, while the enemy prepared for a large-scale operation.
The consequence of this underestimation was the first weeks of the war. The rapid breakthrough of Russian troops from Crimea to southern Ukraine, the rapid occupation of Kherson, the advance in the Zaporizhzhia region, and dramatic battles for the Kyiv region. The enemy entered where the defence was not fully deployed. And we still cannot return some of these territories.
Yes, the Ukrainian army later carried out historic counteroffensives. A significant part of the Kharkiv region and the right-bank part of the Kherson region were liberated. But these victories were the result of extraordinary efforts and enormous losses. The price of strategic unpreparedness is measured in thousands of lives and destroyed cities.
The question is not whether Ukraine survived. It survived thanks to the people and the Armed Forces. The question is another: could the state have minimised the initial losses if the decisions on full combat readiness had been made earlier?
Being the leader of a country is not just about courage at the moment of impact. It is about the ability to see it in advance. Four years of war provide grounds for a tough but necessary conversation about personal political responsibility.
The Ukrainian popular resistance thwarted Russian plans. A society that Moscow had for years considered “divided” and “weak” showed unprecedented unity. The war turned not into a short occupation operation, but into a gruelling conflict in which Ukraine proved its right to be an independent state.
Four years of struggle proved that Ukrainian statehood is not a coincidence of history, but a conscious choice of millions of people. It was the war that finally destroyed the imperial illusions of a “common state” and revealed the gap between the vision of freedom and the imperial logic of subjugation.
And the paradox of this war is that, in trying to revive the empire, the Kremlin may accelerate its historical decline and cessation of existence.
Today, as we commemorate the fourth anniversary of the Great War, it is important to realise its true nature. This is not a conflict between “two fraternal peoples” or a struggle for spheres of influence. This is a war for the right to exist — the struggle of a country that refused to be a colony against an empire that could not accept its independence.
Ukraine has survived because its citizens have realised the most important thing: freedom and statehood are not given forever — they must be defended. It is this lesson, paid at an extremely high price, that will determine the future not only of Ukraine, but of all of Europe.
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