Four years after Russian tanks crossed into Ukraine in the early hours of 24 February 2022, Europe remains gripped by its most destructive war since 1945. What many initially assumed would be a swift campaign has become a grinding war of attrition. The conflict has now lasted longer than the 1,418 days it took the Soviet Union to defeat Nazi Germany in what Russia calls the "Great Patriotic War". Yet instead of a triumphant march, Russia in 2026 finds itself locked in a slow-moving, costly struggle, while Ukraine fights an existential battle for survival.
European leaders argue that Vladimir Putin sought to overturn Europe's security architecture and deny Ukraine's right to self-determination by pulling Kyiv back into Moscow's orbit. The Kremlin, by contrast, frames the invasion as "pre-emptive self-defence", claiming NATO expansion turned Ukraine into a threat and justifying the war as one of "denazification" and the protection of Russian speakers in Donbas.
Four years on, Russia controls roughly 19.5% of Ukrainian territory, with limited gains after the first year. The human toll is staggering, with estimates of between 1.5 and 2 million military casualties on both sides. Western sources suggest Russia alone may have suffered more than 1 million losses, the highest for any major power since the Second World War.
Behind Moscow's efforts to project normality, strains are visible. Recruitment campaigns in provincial cities promise nearly 18,000 euros to new soldiers. VAT has risen to 22% to fund defence spending, now consuming 7% to 8% of GDP. Inflation continues to erode household incomes, while energy revenues, long the backbone of the Russian economy, have fallen to a five-year low due to sanctions and Ukrainian strikes on refineries.
On the battlefield, Ukraine has turned to advanced technology to offset ammunition shortages. Fibre-optic drones have transformed front lines into transparent kill zones. A notable moment came with operation "Spiderweb", when Ukrainian drones struck multiple airbases deep inside Russian territory, denting the Kremlin's prestige even if not altering the war's trajectory.
For Greece, the war has had both strategic gains and economic costs. Athens aligned early with international law and EU sanctions, a stance that elevated its geopolitical profile. The port of Alexandroupoli has emerged as a key NATO logistics hub supplying Eastern Europe, reinforcing Greece's role as a regional pillar of stability. Yet ordinary Greeks feel the burden through persistently high food inflation linked to disrupted Ukrainian agriculture, soaring electricity and gas prices after costly efforts to end dependence on Russian energy, and the loss of Russian tourists. Exporters in northern regions such as Imathia and Pella have been forced to find new markets for peaches and apples once destined for Russia.
Diplomatically, Donald Trump's return to the White House has shifted dynamics. After talks in Anchorage, Washington reportedly pressed Kyiv to consider territorial concessions, setting a June 2026 deadline for ending hostilities. In response, the European Union has stepped up, approving a 90 billion euro loan package to sustain Ukraine through 2027, with Germany, the UK and Nordic states now covering much of the military aid previously supplied by the US.
With reconstruction costs exceeding 550 billion dollars and more than 10 million Ukrainians displaced, a "Koreanisation" of the conflict - a frozen ceasefire line dividing Europe for decades - appears increasingly plausible. As the June deadline approaches, the war has reshaped not only Ukraine but also Europe's strategic outlook, including Greece's sense of its place on the global map.
By Vasilis Papoutsis - adapted from Greek by Vassia Barba
