#731
Today, February 22, 2026, the world edges toward the fourth anniversary of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine on February 24, 2022. What began as a shocking blitz has morphed into one of the longest conventional wars in modern Europe—an unimaginable quagmire in a supposedly enlightened continent. Cities scarred, economies gutted, societies fractured. As fresh Russian drone and missile barrages pound Ukrainian power grids and Kyiv itself, U.S.-mediated talks in Geneva have yielded little progress. Russia holds roughly one-fifth of Ukraine, grinding forward slowly in the Donbas at a cost of tens of thousands of lives per month. This is not blitzkrieg; it is brutal attrition.
The human toll defies comprehension. Estimates from the Center for Strategic and International Studies put combined Russian and Ukrainian military casualties nearing 1.8 million, on track for 2 million by spring—hundreds of thousands dead, millions wounded or missing. Ukrainian President Zelenskyy recently cited 55,000 soldiers killed. Civilian deaths exceed 15,000 in Ukraine alone, per UN tallies, with Russian figures lower but still tragic. Social cohesion in both nations lies in ruins: families shattered, veterans scarred, economies warped by sanctions and war spending. Life as it was before 2022 is gone for a generation.
Yet navigating truth amid this carnage feels impossible. Global coverage of the conflict has been profoundly skewed, leaving even discerning observers unsure whom to trust. Western mainstream outlets—from The Economist to major networks—often frame the war in stark moral binaries: plucky Ukraine versus villainous Russia, with victory always "just around the corner" if more aid flows. Podcasters and analysts on both sides dig in early and rarely budge. Pro-Ukraine voices dismiss any talk of negotiation as appeasement; skeptical ones highlight Ukrainian corruption or NATO expansion as root causes. Russian state media, predictably, spins a narrative of heroic defense against "Nazis" and Western aggression. Credible institutions falter under pressure: early intelligence predictions of Kyiv falling in days gave way to over-optimistic Ukrainian counteroffensive hype in 2023, then quiet revisions. Information warfare—disinformation, selective leaks, suppressed dissent—has turned facts into fog. Social media amplifies extremes; legacy media clings to official lines. Whom to believe when even "independent" sources carry water for one side? The result: a public exhausted, polarized, and increasingly tuned out.
This opacity clouds key turning points. Take the Istanbul talks of spring 2022. Ukrainian and Russian negotiators reportedly edged toward outlines of a deal: Ukrainian neutrality, limits on its military, security guarantees, and Russian withdrawal to pre-invasion lines in exchange for recognition of certain realities on the ground. Then-UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson visited Kyiv, and reports (denied by him and disputed by others) suggest Western leaders urged continuation, promising support to fight on rather than settle. Whether it was outright "betrayal" by Biden and Johnson, as some claim, or simply Ukrainian leaders calculating they could do better with Western backing after Bucha revelations and Russian atrocities, the talks collapsed. No signed agreement existed, but the episode fuels accusations that external actors prolonged the suffering. Ukraine rejected terms it deemed capitulation; Russia demanded more. The war ground on.
Four years later, Ukraine shows signs of depletion—manpower stretched thin despite mobilization, energy infrastructure repeatedly hammered, resources dwindling, international support fraying as donor fatigue sets in and public opinion shifts. Russia advances methodically but at staggering cost, its economy militarized and isolated. European leaders, steeped in Russiaphobia, appear to believe they can outlast the Trump administration, betting on U.S. political cycles or a friendlier 2029 successor to sustain the fight. The military-industrial complex and entrenched neocons on both sides of the Atlantic have incentives to keep the spigot open—contracts, influence, ideological commitments.
Credit where due: Vladimir Putin has signaled interest in ending the bloodshed, his own resources strained by sanctions and losses. Yet maximalist demands from all parties, amplified by hardliners in Washington and Brussels, block compromise. The world has largely moved on—headlines now compete with other crises—leaving Russians and Ukrainians to shoulder the burden while resisting EU efforts to frame any settlement short of total Ukrainian victory as betrayal.
Who in Kyiv will admit it is time to cut losses? Zelenskyy's position, once buoyed by Western backing and "color revolution" dynamics critics link to CIA influence, now faces domestic strain. A leader who rose promising peace finds himself presiding over endless war. Social fabric torn, economy hollowed—rebuilding will take decades regardless. A peaceful settlement requires realism: territorial compromises, neutrality assurances, reconstruction aid. Zelenskyy stepping aside might open doors, but entrenched interests resist.
As if one European tragedy weren't enough, war clouds gather over Iran. President Trump, fresh off his America First mandate, issues deadlines—10 to 15 days—for Tehran to curb its nuclear program, ballistic missiles, and proxy support, or face "bad things." U.S. carriers steam toward the region; limited strikes have already hit Iranian sites in past months. Rhetoric escalates, with threats of deeper action.
This is a trap America should avoid. Iran is not our existential foe; a full conflict would be unwinnable in any meaningful sense—costly, protracted, destabilizing the Middle East and global energy markets at a time of economic fragility and stagnation. Trump campaigned on restraint abroad, inward focus at home. Betraying that vision risks alienating his base and igniting wider chaos. To his credit, saner voices in the administration—like Vice President JD Vance and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard—push back against escalation, urging diplomacy over bombs. Trump should heed them. Proxy tensions and nuclear posturing demand pressure, not another quagmire.
The parallels are stark: wars prolonged by hubris, bias, and vested interests exact unbearable human costs. Ukraine's fourth anniversary is no cause for celebration—it's a somber reminder of leadership failures across the board. Hundreds of thousands dead or maimed; societies forever altered. Next year, will we mark five years of fighting, or toast a hard-won peace? Optimism is scarce, but realism demands it: cut losses, negotiate in good faith, prioritize lives over ideology.
The fog of war thickens with propaganda, yet the human suffering is clear. Leaders in Moscow, Kyiv, Washington, and Brussels must choose de-escalation over delusion. The alternative—more anniversaries of attrition—is too sad to contemplate. For Ukraine, for the Middle East, for a world weary of endless conflict: enough.
Karthik
22/2/26 12 Noon PST
Foster City. CA.
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