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Win the War Before the War

Europe today stands at a crossroads. One direction points to decisive action, strategic clarity, and a secure continent. The other leads toward hesitation, drift, and the eventual risk of facing a stronger and emboldened Russia on far worse terms.

The war in Ukraine is in its fourth year. What began as a full-scale invasion has become a grinding war of attrition. Ukraine’s resilience has been nothing short of extraordinary; its defenders have stopped Russia’s initial advance, reclaimed territory, and protected their capital against overwhelming odds. But heroism alone cannot win a war. It must be matched with a strategy and resources that make victory not just possible, but inevitable.

Europe’s current posture falls short. It rightly refuses to negotiate with a Kremlin that has disregarded every treaty it ever signed, yet balks at the military escalation needed to bring the war to a conclusion. It pledges solidarity, but often in half-measures — delayed aid packages, piecemeal weapons deliveries, and debates that stretch for months while Ukrainian soldiers ration ammunition. The paradox is glaring: Europe insists Russia must not win, yet it has yet to clearly define what Ukrainian victory looks like, what Europe is prepared to do to secure it, or what risks it is willing to bear.

This lack of clarity carries costs beyond the battlefield. In Washington, European hesitancy has eroded credibility. Around the world, particularly in the Global South, voting patterns at the UN are gradually shifting. More countries abstain or vote against resolutions condemning Russian aggression. This is not because Russia’s arguments are persuasive as claims of “legitimate security concerns” ring hollow when masking imperial aggression but because Europe’s own message is muddled. Without a clear endgame, the moral line between aggressor and victim becomes easier for others to blur. And time, above all, is not on Europe’s side.

The Kremlin has a long tradition of turning long wars to its advantage. It trades space for time, absorbs punishment, and waits for its adversaries to tire. From Napoleon’s 1812 retreat to the long grind of the Second World War, to post-Crimea normalization in 2014, Russia’s strategy has always been to outlast. It is not winning outright in Ukraine, but it is not losing either — and for Moscow, a frozen advantage can be as valuable as a battlefield victory. Time works differently for Ukraine. Every month of war means more destroyed infrastructure, more displaced citizens, more economic strain, more exhausted soldiers. Its economy survives only on external aid. Its population is shrinking. The danger is not sudden collapse, but a gradual erosion of resilience until the means or will to resist are gone. Europe cannot afford to let the war drift toward such an outcome. The longer it waits, the higher the eventual bill in money, political capital, and lives.

Enlargement as a weapon of victory

If Europe is serious about winning this war before it fights the next one, it must understand that military aid alone is insufficient. Ukraine must be anchored irreversibly into the European project and it must happen now. The EU’s most powerful tool has never been a tank or a missile, but the promise of integration. Enlargement is the ultimate strategic commitment. It says to both friend and foe that the candidate’s future lies firmly inside the European family. For Ukraine, that promise is as vital as artillery. It dismantles  Russian narratives of a “grey zone,” assures Ukrainians their sacrifices are building toward something permanent , and deters Moscow from betting on Europe’s  fatigue.

Yet the EU’s current enlargement process is rooted in peacetime logic. The Copenhagen criteria, designed in 1993, assume a stable environment where candidates gradually harmonize with EU norms. Ukraine does not have that luxury. It is reforming under bombardment, fighting a war of survival that is also Europe’s war. Requiring full peacetime compliance before integration is not only unrealistic, it is strategically self-defeating. It effectively grants Russia a veto: by keeping territory occupied, Moscow can indefinitely block accession.

Precedents exist for flexibility. Cyprus joined the EU in 2004 despite unresolved territorial disputes. What mattered was the political decision that Cyprus belonged in Europe. The same must apply to  Ukraine. Accession should be tailored to wartime conditions, prioritize institutional and security alignment, with guarantees that no future EU government can quietly reverse the process. Accelerating Ukraine’s accession is not a “symbolic gesture” but would be a direct blow to Russia’s war aims. Putin invaded to halt Ukraine’s Western trajectory. Fast-tracking that trajectory is the most devastating strategic answer Europe can give.

The illusion of cost-saving delay

Some argue that escalating support now is too costly or risks “provoking” Russia. But delay does not save resources ; it multiplies them . If Russia succeeds, whether by outright conquest or by carving Ukraine into a permanently unstable “grey zone” the consequences will not stop at the Dnipro River. A victorious Russia will stand at Europe’s doorstep, militarily hardened, economically adapted to sanctions, and emboldened to test NATO’s resolve. Countries like Moldova, Georgia, and even EU members in the Baltics will face heightened risk. Europe will then have no choice but to rearm at breakneck speed, deploy forces along a much longer frontier, and potentially face direct conflict all under worse conditions than today.

The migration shock alone from a defeated Ukraine would dwarf anything Europe has faced in recent decades. Energy markets would spiral again. Political extremism, already fed by economic and security anxieties, would surge . And Europe’s unity, the very foundation of its global credibility, would suffer a lasting blow.

Russia’s entire strategy rests on the  belief that Western unity will fracture, that elections will bring less committed leaders, that economic fatigue will weaken resolve, that allies will drift toward “normalization.” Every month of hesitation strengthens that bet.

The response must be visible, irreversible steps: seizing frozen Russian state assets — more than $300 billion in central bank reserves — to fund Ukraine’s defense and reconstruction. Such action would not only undercut Russia’s strategy, but also shift the domestic political narrative. Rather than asking European taxpayers to shoulder an indefinite burden, leaders could demonstrate that Russia is paying for the damage it caused. 

The stakes are generational. If Europe hesitates and Ukraine falls, today’s young Europeans will inherit a continent less secure, less respected, and more dependent on outside powers. They will see the EU’s lofty words about human rights and the rule of law as empty. The memory of Europe standing by while a democracy was dismantled will linger for decades, just as the memory of appeasement lingers from the 1930s. If, on the other hand, Europe helps Ukraine win and accelerates its accession, it will have proven to itself and the world that it is more than an economic bloc. It will have shown that when its values are challenged, it can act decisively. It will have laid the foundation for a stronger, more balanced transatlantic relationship in which Europe is not merely a junior partner, but a strategic actor in its own right.

The war in Ukraine will have a winner. The only question is whether Europe will be on the winning side or left dealing with the crushing consequences of its own indecision. The window for decisive action is closing. Every month that passes without a coherent European strategy is a month in which Russia adapts, Ukraine bleeds, and the eventual cost of security rises. By helping Ukraine win now, militarily, economically, and by integrating it into the EU without delay Europe avoids the far greater price of fighting Russia later, on its own soil, at far higher stakes.