(Panorama News): After more than three and a half years of war, civilian resistance remains high. However, things are not going so well at the front, but the Ukrainian defense is not collapsing either.
Russian forces are gaining a few meters and sometimes a few kilometers, but there is no frontal breakthrough. In Kyiv, people seem more tired now than when I visited a year ago. The researchers and students we work with have become more fatalistic. The alarms warning of incoming drones and missiles have become part of everyday life.
However, most people just shrug their shoulders and carry on with what they were doing. “If it happens, it happens” is the attitude, and thus there is no reason to seek shelter.
When we worked in Ukraine in September, we conducted a vignette survey on trust, various forms of hybrid threats, and trust in public institutions—and we trained the students who were to conduct the interviews. Shops, bars, and restaurants do not have to close when the alarm goes off, but universities and schools do. We therefore agreed with the students that if we received an alarm, we would continue our work in a nearby shelter. Everyone agreed, but when the alarm went off after a couple of hours, no one was in a hurry.
Other students whose lectures had been interrupted went out onto the lawns between the university buildings to smoke, chat, and flirt. It was clearly break time, and it took a while to get our group to the university shelter. It only worked out when one of the female students said to the others that it might be fun to see what this room was like, as she had never been there before.
We eventually got settled, and there weren’t many people in the room. In fact, there was only one student sitting there preparing for an exam. She was both surprised and annoyed when we showed up. She had found the quietest place in the entire university, and then we came and ruined her plans.
What is my point in describing this? Simply put, it illustrates the best way in which the citizens of Kyiv show their resilience in the face of the Russian firepower that strikes them daily.
Even the day after Kyiv experienced its biggest attack so far in the war—a massive attack with over 800 drones and missiles, one of which even hit one of the government’s central buildings—daily life was back to normal as soon as the last drone was shot down in the morning. Shops and cafes opened. It was Sunday, so some people were out jogging, others were strolling to a café for their morning coffee, or were on their way to one of Kyiv’s many parks or the beach by the Dnipro River for the last outdoor brunch or swim of the summer.
The civilian resistance we see in Kyiv means that, despite attack after attack, the city remains a living city, and what happens here and at the front are closely intertwined.
The front does not collapse because the soldiers know that behind them there is a living Ukraine with citizens who work, study, eat, drink, and fall in love.
At the same time, the living Ukraine is completely dependent on the soldiers at the front holding their ground. Civil resilience and military ability to resist an enemy that is superior in terms of resources are therefore symbiotic.
One cannot be separated from the other. This is an important lesson as Norway and other European countries now reassess their defense capabilities.
So far, Ukraine has done well. There is little to suggest a Russian victory, but there are also some major challenges, as the end of the war is unlikely to be imminent.
Civilian resilience remains high. The problem is that so many have left, and people continue to leave. Our colleagues tell us that it has become common for mothers to take their sons out of Ukraine when they approach their 18th birthday. This can actually be seen at the university and in the areas around where students hang out. In this cityscape, there is a noticeable shortage of men and a surplus of women.
High civilian resilience is indispensable, but at the same time, the war on the front lines gives us an important preview of what future wars may look like. Not long ago, future wars were thought to be high-tech, with little need for manpower. The war in Ukraine shows that this is not the case. The war being fought in the air is hypermodern, but also cost-effective. The 800 drones I referred to earlier cost no more than NOK 5,000 to produce each. The most effective air defense against these is not expensive high-tech missiles, but mobile heavy machine guns, such as the older German Gepard system.
Drone warfare is something new, and in that sense this is a hypermodern war, but at the same time the front line is reminiscent of trench warfare in World War I. Large numbers of soldiers are needed, who must remain completely still in the trenches until the moment when they can try to move forward or backward and fire at the enemy. This is Ukraine’s Achilles heel.
The civilian resistance I see in Kyiv is very strong, but at the same time, the ability to mobilize is significantly weaker. People will not give up. Popular support for resistance remains very high, but this does not automatically translate into a willingness to go to the front. People know that the front line is a slaughterhouse, and although confidence in the military as an institution is high, confidence in generals and various branches of the military varies greatly. Some are highly trusted, while others are seen as leaders who, without consideration, sacrifice their troops like pawns on a chessboard.
This is the difficult equation that Ukraine’s leadership must solve – how civilian resilience and willingness to mobilize can also become symbiotic. If not, the next year of war will be very challenging, as the type of “voluntary” forced mobilization that is now taking place will only lead to even more men trying to leave Ukraine.
This article was first published in Panorama Nyheter on October 14, 2025.
